erin go bleccchh

What food(s) do you love that other people think you are crazy for eating?



this is such a difficult topic. first off, i’m twelve-weeks pregnant. in between periodic gagging and perpetual nausea, my cravings change every couple of days. nothing exotic; nothing like the proverbial pickles and ice cream. the latest craving was cottage cheese, which el Jefe’ thinks i’m crazy for eating, but i don’t think that counts. it’s so mainstream …

then, although i’m new to the whole blogging thing, several pros (who actually make money off their blogs?!?) have plugged Maggie’s book “No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog”. i broke the rule in this post, but maybe it didn’t count because i described dinner from the hotel gift shop, not lunch. anyway, i am struggling to ignore the voices in my head: “it’s an assignment – stretch your wings!” and “you're doing it wrong!”

my early gastronomic experiences were of course shaped by my parents. my mom grew up on a farm in southern Indiana. her cooking tends toward the bland side, a side effect from an Irish background. i can say that thanks to my mom, i can stuff a mean turkey and can stomach the giblets. i like the gizzard and the heart, but it is tolerance and preference (gizzard beats liver) and nothing close to LOVE. my dad is a “meat and potatoes” kind of guy and my mom catered to his wishes. i think he ate a Quarter-pounder with cheese, fries, and an orange drink five days a week, nearly fifty weeks a year, for over a decade. could this be a clue where my OCD tendencies come from?

when you combine the aforementioned genetic traits with a third fact, it equates to my least favorite meal. i was born on St. Patrick’s Day. while most kids dream of picking their birthday meal, (pizza! hamburgers! spaghetti!) allowing that cookies and ice cream are not acceptable main courses, my wishes were ignored for sake of heritage and tradition. until my first year of college, i was subjected to corned beef and cabbage at nearly every birthday dinner. stringy, fatty beef; stinky, slimy cabbage; and fortunately, salty boiled potatoes. year after year after year. in the decades since, i have to admit i’ve probably eaten the dreaded corned beef and cabbage on an occasion or two, but it is forbidden in my own kitchen and i have never, ever selected it off a menu. it was probably at my in-laws, or my parents’ home, i was possessed by guilt, and it was most definitely not on my birthday.

on March 17th, my favorites could be oysters or spinach or snails, as long as it’s not corned beef and cabbage. and my folks still shake their heads, wondering if i’m crazy, wondering where they went wrong.