Pattern-Seeking Mammals

I just returned from a two-day camping excursion with friends. Sitting around the campfire, observing the marshmallow roasting rituals of my fellow campers, it occurred to me how bizarrely specific us mortals can be… especially when it comes to our eating habits. And not only what we consume, but the manner in which we consume.

Some of us—including yours truly—jabbed our skewers directly into the fire, letting our ‘mallows burn for a few moments before blowing out the flames. Others kept their treats a safe distance from the pyre, patiently heating their sugary provisions. Others viewed the warming of the marshmallows merely as a small step towards a larger s’mores enterprise.

Similarly, sweet-toothed idiosyncrasies occurred when Oreo cookies were the snack of the campsite. The two women in our rogue troupe habitually twisted open their cookie treats, separating the chocolate shells from the vanilla centers. They each preferred the cookie portion of their snacks over the cream, but one ate the cookie part first while the other saved the “best” for last. They each lamented how they wished Nabisco would package the chocolate biscuits without the cream fillings. I scoffed saying that without the soft centers, the cookies would cease to be Oreos. And then chomped into the cookie sandwich in my paws like a giant eating a villager.

Breakfast proved no exception with our party’s food particulars. When bacon and eggs were served, everyone had their morning meal proclivities. Eggs were gooey, firm, or scrambled, and bacon fellowships were divided into fatty, crisp, and burnt camps.

When I was a youngling, I hated tomatoes. I’d always scrape the pulpy red toppings from my fast food hamburgers, fold ‘em up in a napkin, and toss ‘em in the trash. You’d say tomato, I’d say no thank you.

Folks would point out to me how silly it was to enjoy ketchup whilst rejecting tomatoes. Over the years, I gradually began to accept their criticisms and inched tomatoes into my diet. For a long while, however, I’d still pick the red fruit slices from from my ground beef patties, eating them à la carte so not to compromise the flavor of my cow sandwiches. But now, a hamburger seems naked to me without a hunk of tow-mah-toe wedged somewhere between the meat and the bun.

As a rule of thumb, I’ve found that those folks with the wildest fashion and artistic tastes tend to have the most conservative palates. I’m not a picky eater, but I also wouldn’t describe my culinary inclinations as exotic. That said, if a plane I was on crashed into the Andes, I’d definitely eat the pilots. In fact, I’d try just about anything once, including Filipino blood pudding, chocolate-covered grasshopper, and fried chicken knuckles.

Chicken knuckles are part of certain Chinese cuisines. You put a chicken’s foot in your mouth, crack the knuckle open with your teeth, and suck out the bone marrow. I was indifferent to the taste—a rather bland flavor, actually—but the feeling of claw and bird bone between my gums was rather unpleasant.

Two of my favorite foods are mushrooms and octopus—items on a menu that regularly incite sneers and nose curls. I also like my food spicy, applying copious amounts of hot sauce and jalapeños to just about everything.

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but when I have desserts, my confectionary appetites are pretty basic. I prefer vanilla to chocolate, and if I find myself inside a FroYo saloon (as I did in my previous post “Redheads and Desserts”), I always gravitate towards a peanut butter-based composition: peanut butter yogurt with Reese’s Pieces and chopped Butterfinger toppings.

So… how ’bout you? In what bizarre food rituals do you partake? Are there any foods that you simply won’t eat? Or dishes you enjoy that others find gross? Do some of your friends have nasty eating habits that get under your skin?  Chomp!  Clomp!  Slurrrp!  Please share your dining table tales below.