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Were you a Picky Eater


Schielke

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Even as a child, it had to be spicy (not necessarily hot spicy; I just love how the Thai language allows for "hot" in two senses -- temp vs. peppery).

As does Spanish - a problem which greatly confuses waiters when waiting on American customers in Spanish-speaking countries.

Most Americans know the word, "caliente" for hot. So, they repeatedly ask the waiters if something is "caliente," often pointing at salsa.

Since "caliente" means "hot" temperature-wise, the waiters find this question very puzzling.

It is hard to explain to them why we keep mixing up the words for hot (temperature) and hot (spicy), because in Spanish, the words are absolutely nothing alike.

How on earth, they wonder, can we possibly confuse "caliente" with "picante," the word for spicy.

And, what with the (to me, inexplicable) popularity of Pace Picante sauce, perhaps we will begin to remember the difference.

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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I grew up on a ranch in west Texas, we ate beef way too often.

A friend of mine raised Scottish Highland Cattle for years. Beautiful Beef! But his kids' favorite treat was to get a big greasy take-out pizza from town, and he confessed that it was a nice change of pace from the beef.

PS: I'll bet your Mom was wise to your eating "tricks"?

SB (Has great faith in Power of Moms)

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I've been silent to this point, but at last we've touched upon something so deeply etched in my soul that i can restrain my tongue no longer.

I grew up on a ranch in west Texas, we ate beef way too often.

I was not fortunate enough to be raised on good Texan beef, nor Scottish Highland. Instead, growing up on a dairy farm, the most readily available source of protein had been bred to put as little energy into producing meat as possible. The resultant meat was tasteless, stringy, and tough as nails. The cut always seemed to be a T-bone about half an inch thick, cooked either under the broiler or on the grill until any trace of moisture that might have accidentally been present in the first place was burned away. I can still hear the refrain of my sibling's and I "Steak again!!!" :sad: To this day, despite having had wonderful cuts of beef excellently prepared, I can never raise any enthusiasm over the prospect of eating beef.

Edited by donk79 (log)
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I was a VERY picky eater.

I never ate nuts.

any kind of nuts.

BUT

I would eat creamy peanut butter.

Hmmmmm?????? :wink:

oh yeah, and add the occasional brussel sprout that my parents tried to force down the throat with some luke warm milk, which causes the gag-reflex to go in high gear!!!! :wacko:

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There was nothing edible that I wouldn't at least try even as a young child. I remember the only thing I didn't like were brussel sprouts. However, when served I had to eat at least one before being allowed to leave the table.

I think I've actually become more selective with age as I became more informed on the origin, preparation and on health effects of certain foods.

Edited by seawakim (log)

"If we don't find anything pleasant at least we shall find something new." Voltaire

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I think I've actually become more selective with age as I became more informed on the origin, preparation and on health effects of certain foods.

I agree. There are lots of foods that I haven't eaten since the government mandated nutritional information on packaging and I got to see fat and sodium counts.

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The milk was like unto nothing that one could ever find in a grocery store today. The sad news I have for you is that no breed of cow produces anything so weak and watery as what is now labled "whole milk." Unless you have to shake the container to mix the cream in, the difference between what you are drinking and what we drank is the difference between tin can stewed tomatoes and a tomatoe fresh from the garden. This didn't lead to picky milk consumption on my part, because everything that wasn't from back home seemed all the same, palatable, but watered down. Fortunately my wife isn't picky about milk either, she won't drink any of it! The ironies of fate.... :rolleyes:

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  • 3 weeks later...

(Watch, as the amazing Jen runs around the boards replying to old but interesting threads that nobody's reading anymore!)

I consider myself a picky eater, still, because the things I don't like I *really* don't like. However, I've always been willing to try anything and in fact when I was younger, I used to eat things just to be contrary. (I was one of those kids who pretended that spaghetti-os were octopus tentacles, OK?) Mustard on chocolate chip cookies, mushrooms, fish, tomatoes, olives, sauerkraut was my favorite food for years, pickle juice straight out of the jar....

The list of things I dislike hasn't changed much over the years, although I now eat and enjoy broccoli. (I always liked the taste, but the texture of the floret part used to turn me off.) This includes:

Oregano (in some (usually limited) applications it's OK, but pizza sauce... *shudder*)

Thyme (learning to like it more)

Organ meats (I try to like them, it just hasn't happened yet)

Tomato paste and sundried tomatoes (again, I'll eat them but don't like them much)

Jennie

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(Watch, as the amazing Jen runs around the boards replying to old but interesting threads that nobody's reading anymore!)

. . .

Organ meats (I try to like them, it just hasn't happened yet)

Jen, if you really want to have some fun, look up the old threads on "offal." :laugh:

I don't really remember being picky, although I probably was. Although I do remember trying to live on Triscuits, cheese, and dry cured sausage so that I wouldn't have to leave the bedroom to eat dinner with my parents...

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