Variety is the spice of life, or so they say. When I first met Richard he managed in a few short months to have me trying types of food that I hadn't ventured towards in 29 years of living. Duck, Lamb, a few varieties of fish, and some other things I can't pronounce were placed in front of me and I bravely brought fork to mouth, with some surprisingly good results, and some quick runs to the bathroom to discretly throw up the foulness that was trying to defile my tongue.
My picky, plain eating is somewhat a result of my adult-developed food allergies, but much more by my meager upbringing subsisting on chicken cutlets from Weaver instead of roasted pheasant with red potatos and sage, or generic cheerios instead of elaborate omelets.
I have an immense distaste (and what is considered a great oddity by many) for condiments. I don't put ketchup on anything but the occasional french fry. I won't touch mustard, mayo makes me gag, and the smell or taste of salad dressing does the same thing. I can't usually order from fancier menus without fanfare because of the amount of extras they put on dishes; particularly at mexican restuarants that aren't happy unless they've drowned your over-spicy chicken or beef with sour cream, guacamole, and salsa. Blechhh. I used to make the "sandwich artists" at Subway change gloves prior to making my sub because I claimed I had extreme food allergies and could be harmed by their chance of touching oil, ranch, or onions from someone else's sandwich.
Unfortuantely, I have been cursed as well as rewarded by my tendencies for the untouched. I don't get the fats from oils or dressings, but I also can't ever enjoy my former lunchtime staple, plain turkey sandwiches. Yes, just the turkey and the bread, usually a kaiser roll. Because of the lack of lubricating condiments, they get painfully, annoyingly stuck and leave my stomach feeling like there's a ten pound rock pressing on my esophagus in all directions. It sucks bad, to say the least.
So lately my lunch choices have been reduced to the following- soup, or....soup. Occasionally I'll be brave and attempt a few bites of one of my previous faves like a chicken parm roll-up from Fresco or a meatball sub from Subway. It doesn't take long for me to shake my head and acknowledge that it's not going to happen.
At dinner, I look for the soft stuff that gives me no trouble. Fish, or shellfish go down just fine. Pasta, occasionally, and if eaten slowly. Even steak or tacos seem to be ok these days, I'm just limited to size, which is the point of the band anyway.
The real problems hit me at lunch. I'm not going to order filet mignon or sauteed scallops for lunch. And so, the lady will have the soup.
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