Hubby adored chicken hearts. He'd get skewers-full at the Brazilian place. I couldn't eat them because it was such a blatant display of how many chickens died for my dinner. I have no trouble with the food chain and where my meat comes from, I've been in small-scale meat processing places. But a skewer of 30 chicken hearts is a bit . . . oppressive. Eating bits of grilled chicken breast lets me spread the guilt out among lots of people.
Plus I don't trust the texture. Texture and bitter are my no-gos with food.
I liked food a lot more once I realized that my grandmother and my mother were horrible cooks. In very different ways. My grandma was the main cook and she lived through the depression and hated cooking. Plus we were poor and my grandpa was Archie Bunker in his detestation of any ethnic food, though mostly Italian. My mother could follow a recipe but could and cannot put together a menu, and she over cooks everything. My family also are a lot of things like potato flakes, minute rice, etc. My grandpa who hardly ever cooked made really good soups and salads.
My grandmas recipes were actually pretty sound, though, once you cared about what you were doing and fixed the lumps in the white sauce and seasoned things.
Speaking of food, I just saw a picture of the menu of a restaurant called Golden Crab House that just opened not far from me. One page is designated "Fried Food" and the other page "Garlic Food." I may have to try some garlic food.
Heh. Garlic food. I like it.
The only food I just couldn't try was tongue. I was sixteen at the time. I feel like I could do it now. Probably.
I was at a large ethnic supermarket last month and saw beef lips in the meat department. Much as I believe in using every part of the animal possible...I really wish I could unsee that. I don't know how large an amount of money it would take to get me to try them. (If they're in my hot dogs, just hush, please).
I liked food a lot more once I realized that my grandmother and my mother were horrible cooks.
I had no idea salmon was good until I was in college, because when I was a kid my mom made salmon patties during Lent with canned salmon that she would mix with chopped raw onion, and the patties weren't cooked long enough to soften the onions. They were...not good. Then my BFF's mom made salmon steaks and I knew I had to be polite and try to eat it...and it was a revelation.
The only food I just couldn't try was tongue. I was sixteen at the time. I feel like I could do it now. Probably.
It reminded me mostly of pot roast. I had to keep getting past my mental block of "Aaaaaaah! THIS IS A TONGUE!", but it tasted pretty good.
My mom also made salmon patties! But no onion. I was very anti-onion as a kid. Now I still won't eat mushrooms, the taste AND texture I dislike. There are other things in not a big fan of (eggplant) but will eat in some preparations, or eat around, or to be polite (and have extra sides if I can)
Calla, best of luck to your mom!!
What really turned me off about tongue was that it was served WHOLE... on a bed of lettuce.
To this day, I really try not to eat any meat that can be positively identified as to what part of a body it came from. I call it Plausible Deniability Vegetarianism.
It's was sweetbreads for me. My mother liked them and would order them in restaurants as often as she could. I turned my nose up to them until I was around 40 or so and she convinced me to try them one more time. By then I'd tried all kinds of stuff I'd never thought I would 20 years earlier, so I went for it. Now I love them.
