Don't let the title of this blog fool you, it's not about a toddler or small child. My husband is one of the most low-key people that I know in all but one aspect, food. I was astonished after we were married when I realized how picky of an eater he truly was. And since he finds the title "picky eater" offensive and inaccurate (eye roll), we now lovingly say he has a "sensitive pallet."
I wonder just how many lugies I've eaten at restaurants after he's given specific instructions about the food to the waiter, or sent the food back when it didn't meet the standard. He despises leftovers and if he has to eat them, they have to be heated in the oven, not the microwave. He has a Monk-like compulsion about his food touching each other, and it's not unusual to see him carry 3 or more plates of his separated dinner so that the tastes aren't intermingled. He likes 2 ice cubes in his milk. Two percent.
Needless to say, it's quite different from the way I was raised when we lived for a week off an enormous pot of chili, reheated for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But after 3 1/2 years of marriage, I've got his strange habits learned pretty well. When in doubt if he'll eat something, either cover it in cheese, douse it with salt, or deep fry it. That usually does the trick.
When we first started dating, all we could do for a "date" was make dinner for each other and eat in. We couldn't go out in public because of our forbidden love (click here for a loooong story). So whoever got done with work first would go to my apartment and cook supper for both of us. One of my first dinners I made was BLT sandwiches (bacon, lettuce, and tomato). I was quite proud of this as I rarely cooked and my knowledge of recipes was extremely limited. I served the sandwich on toasted wheat bread with mayonnaise, bacon, lettuce and tomato.
He ate every bite. Being the kind, gentle, but finicky soul that he is, he approached me later and explained that he didn't want to hurt my feelings, but also knowing we would be together for a very long time and I should know something, "I hate wheat bread, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato."
Another funny "Eddie" story:
My Bum
Another funny "Eddie" story:
My Bum
Comments
But that's the fun of it all. And how heartening to see how deeply you both recognize it. Coolness.
I've started telling people I'm actually an MVP eater - it's genetic.
Good story !