And I'm Back...

Now that I have some free time I can finally start posting again...

Thanks to the few people who sent me contest entries. The winner is this one here (you know who you are.) And you have officially won an early dinner at BLT Burger followed by a night out celebrating and a late dinner at Blue Ribbon. Here is the winning entry:

It's hard for me to pin down the exact moment I discovered that I liked to eat, but it's widely assumed to be the first time I had a slice of Papa Gino's pizza. Why? I really don't know. These things start often as rumors:

"Did you hear about so-and-so?"

"No, what happened? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, but he tried Papa Gino's for the first time last night."

"You don't mean..."

"Yup. He likes food now."

And it became fact that I liked to eat and that Papa Gino's was the culprit. But really, it wasn't. No, I learned to fully appreciate food many years later when I did something else for the first time:

"Did you hear about so-and-so?"

"No, what happened? Is he okay?"

"He's fine, but he tried _____ for the first time last night."

"You don't mean..."

"Yup. He likes food now."


And there it was. I became a fan of, as the French (French will be a theme) would say, des affaires gastronomiques.

As far as the strangest thing I have eaten goes permit me to ignore the many interesting combinations that I've tried in the past. Carrots and ketchup were a favorite of mine for a period of years (delicious, but my palate is more sophisticated now) and there was the one afternoon where I drank a cup that was half whiskey and half beer (not so good). I'd save the distinction of strangest definitely for something I've eaten on a trip to India. And that varies from Tang powder to indiscernible fish parts to indiscernible animal parts.

If pressed, I'd have to go with pickled chicken and/or mutton liver: pieces of liver seasoned in a mango and spice based pickling sauce. And it was disgusting. Why did I eat it? Pride. My sister flat out refused and, to tell you the truth, I wish I had her courage. I wanted, nay, craved the respect of my family. I wanted to prove to them that I wasn't just another soft American whose fragile stomach couldn't hack true Indian cuisine. But I was wrong. And I got very, very ill.