Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Basically I'm only making this post because I am sick of seeing that cuddly picture. I posted way too many of those quizzes in a row. I'm so sorry.

So here's a story for you.
Not to be read by June Ross.

Horseradish Blues
When I was in Scotland/Wales this summer, I went to the Ross's house after church one Sunday for lunch. June made some yellow dish and piled our plates high with this concoction. One bite of it made me want to puke. It wasn't the dish itself, but the seasoning, whatever that seasoning was. I had never tasted anything like it, but it was killing me. I wanted to be polite so I tried my hardest to keep eating it, but with every bite I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to purge. I held my breath with each bite and swallowed as quickly as possible. Finally Stevie said, "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it." I was embarrassed but relieved that I'd been let out of the misery.

From that point on, anytime I smelled that smell, I got sick to my stomach. (I'm sick just thinking of it now.) I came home and hoped I'd never experience that taste or smell again.

Today we had an "Advancement Team Development" meeting, with lunch provided. I chose the Tuscan Chicken sandwich, and Jackie chose the Asiago Roast Beef. I unwrapped my sandwich and was disapointed. It did not look good to me at all. However, it looked good to Jackie, and she offered to switch. I gratefully agreed for the roast beef and took a bite. There it was!! That taste! Right there in my roast beef sandwich!! I felt that stomach tightening as I fought desperately to get it swallowed and out of my mouth. I was so disapointed. I began meticulously exploring which part of the sandwich contained that taste-- it was not in the cheese, the bread or the roast beef. Hmm. I took another bite, maybe I'd completely imagined it. Nope, there it was again. It was in the mayonaise. The mayonaise? I was confused. Then I spotted the oh too familiar black specks. It wasn't in the mayonaise, it was in the pepper. I was crushed. Immediately I decided that all pepper in the United Kingdom must taste like this, and I'd never get to eat pepper again if I move there. Not to mention the fear is struck in me that this pepper had somehow made its way into the United States. I took apart my sandwich and ate it without the bottom piece of bread or the bottom layer of roast beef.

Heading back up to my office I made a comment about it in the elevator. Stephanie asked me which sandwich I had. I told her the roast beef. She then nodded and knowingly explained that it was horseradish. Horseradish!!! What kind of person puts horseradish in their food?! It suddenly all made sense, the yellow dish in Scotland, the sandwich, the smell in other random places-- horseradish.

I discovered today that I do not like horseradish, and that Scottish pepper is most likely just like our pepper.

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