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