Friday, September 30, 2011

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Least Favorite Foods

My family and friends have often wondered why I don't eat cold cereal for breakfast. What they don't know is that when I was 11 years old, my father came home with a box of a new-fangled cereal. It consisted of corn flakes with dried fruit in it. There was a choice of strawberries or peaches. He asked us all to try it and we said it was pretty good. What we didn't know is that cereal was really, really cheap at that moment so he bought two cases of it -- one each of strawberries and peaches. Now, this seems to be a common error that fathers make, at least in my family. If they find something that their kids like, they immediately try to OD them on it. Which is exactly what happened to us. Daddy would not let us eat anything else for breakfast until that nasty cereal was completely gone. All the whining and complaining and, yes I admit it, gagging did us no good. We had to eat every last corn flake and piece of dried fruit. Even loading each bowl down with half a cup of sugar didn't help. To this day I don't/won't eat cold cereal for breakfast. Now you all know why. What I can't figure out is why my sibs psyches were not similarly damaged.

Another of my least favorite foods is liver. Mom says that I loved liver as a baby. But when I got older I developed an aversion to it; the texture, the smell, the taste, the everything. Just to make sure that my distaste for liver would remain forever entrenched in me, Mom cooked it once when I was sick with the flu. No, she didn't intend for me to eat it, but the smell of the cooking was enough to make me vomit (literally). Wouldn't you know that when I got married, I discovered that liver and onions was one of my husband's favorite meals? Being a newlywed, I naturally wanted to please him, but I just couldn't stomach liver! My solution? I floured one pound liver, placed it on the rack in my pressure cooker, added three of the strongest onions I could find, drowned it in beef broth and pressure cooked the dickens out of that puppy. It totally killed the taste and smell of the liver and Hubby loved it! He even had me fix it for my in-laws and they loved it, too. I was able to eat a bite or two of the liver cooked that way, but I saved most of it for everyone else selfless person that I am--I filled up on mashed potatoes and the "liver" gravy. You can imagine my relief, however, when Hubby became concerned with high cholesterol and decided to stop eating liver. Darn!

Thanks for dropping by.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History is an ongoing challenge from GeneaBloggers and Amy Coffin that invites genealogists and others to record memories and insights about their own lives for future descendants.

APPENDIX: October 1, 2011
After reading this post, Mom informed me that when I was about five years old she had made some liver that had a bad taste to it. She thinks the butcher may have cut into the bile. Nobody would eat it, but I insisted (that was when I foolishly liked liver) and I got sick. This explains why I developed a sudden aversion to it. Yuck!!!

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