Rosemary. Herb of the devil.
I am one of those who likes the laborious foods. I think they add extra fun. Nothing I like more than taking apart a lobster or crab and getting all that wonderful stuff out. An artichoke already steamed is no work, really. Pluck a leaf, dip, scrape with your teeth, done.For the life of me I can’t figure out why people bother with artichoke. So much work, to scrape a tiny amount of flesh off the leaf and discard 90% of the thing? Feels like lobster, where for 80% of the population it’s just an excuse to save some butter from peanut butter sandwiches and have an excuse to drink it. I don’t dislike the flavor or anything like that, I just don’t find it worth the effort or waste.
Asparagus is great. Same situation as sprouts. High heat, simple seasonings, let the veg sing (scream really, with how charred it should come out of the oven)
"Dill weed" as a pejorative is a PG version of dick weed popularized by Bevis and Butthead cuz they couldn't say the real thing on MTV... But I heckin love that you hate the herb so much to give it that sort of creditDill is the worst herb. By far. There's a reason we call objectionable people "dill weed."
You’ve clearly never had a properly ripened artichoke…
"Dill weed" as a pejorative is a PG version of dick weed popularized by Bevis and Butthead cuz they couldn't say the real thing on MTV... But I heckin love that you hate the herb so much to give it that sort of credit
(I don't mind a little dill but it really needs to learn its place)
I was admittedly a bit meh on dill outside of dill pickles for most of my life. I tried it in the last few years in an Iraqi/persian dish that involves long grain rice, fresh fava beans and tons of dill and it won me over. Timman bagilla or bag halo polo depending on which language you prefer.Dill is the worst herb. By far. There's a reason we call objectionable people "dill weed."
nothing else adds that extra "gene se qua" to the aroma of pee like Asparagus.I guess we can add asparagus to the list of things where I really struggle to see what all the fuss is about.
je ne sais quoi ;-)
The French will just go 'hein ' otherwise
Just have to say "Gee knee says Koi" and I will be speaking perfect French, eh? Thanks for the tip!je ne sais quoi ;-)
The French will just go 'HUH' otherwise
I have a certain je ne sais Jacquesje ne sais quoi ;-)
The French will just go 'HUH' otherwise
I’ve smelled better diapers.Durian.
agree. at and from the source, it is delcious. smells wonky, but it tastes great.Ate fresh durian just picked off the tree in Davao. That’s how it should be eaten. Just smelled like a stronger jackfruit smell. Yummy.
I prefer them in someone else’s kitchen.Raw apples and raw bananas. I prefer them cooked.
I patiently waited for the day when i would graduate from Given Name to Mister Surname.There are some foods I don't care for much, but I will pretty much eat anything, even weird stuff that most people wouldn't touch (offal, insects, sea snail, etc.) But there is one thing I still avoid if at all possible: pickled beetroot. (It's a curse in Australia, because I have to remember to state "no beetroot" every time I order a hamburger.)
The dislike goes back to when I was four years old. Both my parents worked, and I spent weekdays at a Kindergarten not far from our apartment. That was one of the old-school Kindergartens run by the Catholic Church; all the staff were nuns. In those days, Kindergartens were still proper Kindergartens with proper discipline. None of that soft anti-authoritarian nonsense there!
It was the kind of place were kids knew what it meant to disobey, and there were proper educational procedures in place to deal with unauthorised behaviour. A typical punishment was to be forced to put on a dunce's cap and to stand in a corner facing the wall for five minutes. More severe transgressions were punished by telling a child to stand with their hands outstretched, palms down, and to get hit on the back of the hands three times with a wooden ruler. Pulling back incurred an additional strike. For really serious crimes, all thirty kids or so were assembled in a big circle, the transgressor was led into the middle of the circle, had his pants pulled down, and got a hit a number of times on the bare backside with a ruler while all the other kids watched. The term "pedagogic" still had meaning back then.
The dislike of beetroot dates back to one lunch time when pickled beetroot was part of the meal. I was a fuzzy eater at the best of times, and I didn't like the beetroot. I was told to eat it again and again, and I refused. Eventually, all the other kids had finished their lunch and gone out into the playground, while I was still sitting there in a big empty room, with one nun present, in front of my pickled beetroot, being told in no uncertain terms that I'd be there until the beetroot was eaten. Eventually, the nun told me that if I wouldn't eat the beetroot "right now", it would be the hands and the ruler. So I shoved it all in my mouth, chewed a few times, and managed to swallow some part of it. Two or three seconds later, I projectile vomited the beetroot and all the other stomach contents onto the floor. It made a pretty red splash pattern. Shortly thereafter, it was the ruler…
Oh, those were the days. How I miss them. When kids still had respect for their elders and got a proper education.
That's why I don't enjoy beetroot. But I will be forever grateful for the caring and diligent education I was blessed with at an early age.
Totally get your aversion to pickled beets, resulting from childhood associations of the food. I myself dislike numerous foods from negative experiences or overindulgence—raw banana, hot oatmeal, ripe papaya (love them green), custard pie, etc.There are some foods I don't care for much, but I will pretty much eat anything, even weird stuff that most people wouldn't touch (offal, insects, sea snail, etc.) But there is one thing I still avoid if at all possible: pickled beetroot. (It's a curse in Australia, because I have to remember to state "no beetroot" every time I order a hamburger.)
The dislike goes back to when I was four years old. Both my parents worked, and I spent weekdays at a Kindergarten not far from our apartment. That was one of the old-school Kindergartens run by the Catholic Church; all the staff were nuns. In those days, Kindergartens were still proper Kindergartens with proper discipline. None of that soft anti-authoritarian nonsense there!
It was the kind of place were kids knew what it meant to disobey, and there were proper educational procedures in place to deal with unauthorised behaviour. A typical punishment was to be forced to put on a dunce's cap and to stand in a corner facing the wall for five minutes. More severe transgressions were punished by telling a child to stand with their hands outstretched, palms down, and to get hit on the back of the hands three times with a wooden ruler. Pulling back incurred an additional strike. For really serious crimes, all thirty kids or so were assembled in a big circle, the transgressor was led into the middle of the circle, had his pants pulled down, and got hit a number of times on the bare backside with a ruler while all the other kids watched. The term "pedagogic" still had meaning back then.
The dislike of beetroot dates back to one lunch time when pickled beetroot was part of the meal. I was a fussy eater at the best of times, and I didn't like the beetroot. I was told to eat it again and again, and I refused. Eventually, all the other kids had finished their lunch and gone out into the playground, while I was still sitting there in a big empty room, with one nun present, in front of my pickled beetroot, being told in no uncertain terms that I'd be there until the beetroot was eaten. Eventually, the nun told me that if I wouldn't eat the beetroot "right now", it would be the hands and the ruler. So I shoved it all in my mouth, chewed a few times, and managed to swallow some part of it. Two or three seconds later, I projectile vomited the beetroot and all the other stomach contents onto the floor. It made a pretty red splash pattern. Shortly thereafter, it was the ruler…
Oh, those were the days. How I miss them. When kids still had respect for their elders and got a proper education.
Sixty years later, I still can't enjoy beetroot. But I will be forever grateful for the caring and diligent education I was blessed with at an early age.
pineapple and beet, what da funk!!??Totally get your aversion to pickled beets, resulting from childhood associations of the food. I myself dislike numerous foods from negative experiences or overindulgence—raw banana, hot oatmeal, ripe papaya (love them green), custard pie, etc.
I do love beets, eaten straight from the can; a beloved component of Aussie hamburgers. Sadly, I had what was one of the worst burgers in my life last month in Esperance, WA, at a restaurant chain called The Dome—only place open for brekkie on a Sunday. My quest for a good Aussie burger continues.
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It’s the Chicago Hotdog of the Hamburger scene.pineapple and beet, what da funk!!??
It's an iconic Australian dish. (Well, more like iconic Australian debauchery, TBH…) One of those makes for a big and tasty meal (for me, without the beetroot). Here is a recipe for a burger with the lot.pineapple and beet, what da funk!!??
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