Wednesday, December 24, 2008
The Great (Food) Divide
When J.G. and I first met, we discovered the kinds of mutual interests that make relationships click. She likes baseball. I cover it. She's a bookaholic. I own a collection of first editions. She rides horses. I was surrounded by them growing up in Kentucky. She treasures life's simple pleasures. So do I. Toss in the fact we were born exactly one day apart and, well...opposites we are not.
But neither are we always two peas in a pod. Did I say peas? Let's call the legume Exhibit #1 in the case of J.G. vs. C.S. She likes them. I don't. And the list of culinary differences grows from there.
She enjoys pickles, olives and mushrooms. I can barely stand to look at them. Once, when we encountered an overly talkative and borderline annoying stranger at Hot Dog Heaven, which is our favorite eating nook, J.G. confessed afterward that she had wolfed down her pickle spears as quickly as possible so that we could make our escape. Me? I would have left the @#$% pickles and bolted. But J.G. was not about to let one of her precious pickles go to waste, even as I suffered, trapped in conversation.
I am a big fan of Cincinnati-style chili. J.G. turns her nose at it. I like asparagus. J.G. wants nothing to do with it. And I just found out that J.G. is fine with fruitcake. I can think of lots of things to do with a fruitcake, and none of them involves eating one.
J.G. and I get along swell. How could we not? We like so many of the same things. But when it comes to food, we prefer to fill our own plates. As we like to say when we're ordering pizza: "Can you make that half-and half?"