Finicky Eating

It would be safe to say that I was, as a child, a very, VERY finicky eater. To demonstrate this, I will relate two aspects of my diet as a child that probably frustrated my Mother to no end:

1) I could not eat things that were touching. That is, I did not like when separate items on the plate were touching. So, when my Mom would make, say, pork chops and mashed potatoes (a staple dish in the Lannon household growing up), my pork chop would need to be distinctly separate from the mashed potatoes.

Of course, this would get difficult when something like Jello was introduced into the mix. Jello has a tendency to melt, sending it's sugary goodness into whatever food was nearby. As a child, I would often times eat the center of the mashed potatoes out, leaving the part that might have touched the Jello (easily spotted by how the mashed potato had changed color).

2) I would not eat what I could not easily identify. This kept my life devoid of gravy and sauces for most of my childhood. See: I have an issue with consistency, and still have trouble eating some things with strange consistencies (read: tomatoes). When things are obscured, an accidental carrot or pea might be eaten, and that would spell disaster. Particularly if I wasn't expecting that consistency.

This made eating stews particularly difficult. I would fish through the pot looking for chunks of food that I could easily identify, straining out the thickened broth. I would then pile my chunks of meat and potato on my plate, happy to have something recognizable for dinner.

It wasn't until around high school that I was able to fully appreciate the culinary excellence of gravy and sauce. From there, I was able to add pasta to my repertoire. Eventually, as gravy and sauces tended to leak across the plate, I got used to the idea of separate food items touching. In college, I made the bold steps forward and enjoyed my first soup. I have since expanded even further to eat mixed rice dishes, stews and a new favorite of mine: curry.

Knowing what I said above, eating a curry is nothing short of a miracle. The standard British curry takes a meat (generally not beef due to it's Indian roots and the prevalence of Hinduism therein), and covers it in a thick, spicy sauce that makes the entire mass indistinguishable. Serve with rice and naan bread, and you have yourself a curry meal.

Initially, I was worried about the spiciness of curry. Indian food has the reputation of being quite hot, and my stomach, after years of finicky eating, can't really take much heat. This has prevented me from eating at such culinary delights as Chipotle or Taco Bell. Maybe "saved" is a better word here, rather than "prevented". But, as I noted in an earlier entry about food, while in Wales I am going to eat what everyone else is eating.

The first time I had curry, I tried the vanilla of curries: Chicken Tikka Masala. Chicken tikka is pretty popular in these parts, and it can even be bought as a luncheon meat. It was not horrible, but nothing particularly special about it. It tasted like any other heavily spiced chicken and rice dish that one might have at a run-of-the-mill pan-Asian restaurant. All in all, I was not really impressed with Indian food. It didn't do anything for me that Thai food couldn't do, and didn't really taste as good.

It was some time before I had Indian food again. This time, with Indian food connoisseurs Jamie and Rachel, I went, in my limited experience, is the greatest Indian food restaurant on the planet earth, Shilam. After perusing their massive menu, I settled on the Murgh Korma Royale. As the menu claimed, I was treated to chicken breast cooked in a surprisingly delicious mix of almonds, cashews and coconut milk. It was creamy, smooth and made the chicken unbelievably delicious. The whole mess was a tan color, and no one item was clearly recognizable from the others. In the end, I just ate until I saw the plate, and didn't regret it one bit.

The next time we went to Shilam, to celebrate Rachel's sister's visit, I had Gosth Rogan Josh: a lamb dish that was considerably more spicy. This blended cashew nuts, spring onions, green pepper and yellow onion in a chunky tomato sauce. The menu said "mild" but it must only be mild for people who are used to eating the "Merciless Peppers of Quetzalzaltenango." It was certainly hotter than most food that I eat on a daily basis, but I persisted, and by the end, a bit of a sweaty mess, I was really happy to have finished off the dish.

As people passed out samples of their dishes, some of my tablemates talked about how they were finicky eaters. When I got home, sated and full of curry goodness, I thought about how far I have come in my life. Granted, I never was hypnotized to get over my fussy eating, but now I can go into almost any restaurant with any type of food and find something that I'll like.

But I still won't eat tomatoes.