Gastronomical Quirks of Habit

Everyone eats something that, if you told most anyone else, people would react by saying “OMG!!! You’d eat that?” For me I have this reaction to people who eat Lays sour cream and onion potato chips, maraschino cherries, Spam, and really any processed food in general. But truth be told, as a child I clamored for my mother’s bbq spam and rice, and no one in my family turned their noses up to a peanut butter and bacon sandwich on toast, (a rare delicacy).

What is that I hear across the miles of cyber surfing, the shrill disbelief ““OMG!!! You’d eat that?” To which I can safely reply that yes, once upon a time I did, and the nostalgia of these dishes has not tainted the flavor of them one iota.

As I said before, we all eat things that would make others sick to their stomachs. Sometime we even marry these people. J. stares in disbelief at my penchant for canned kippers or smoked oysters, is revolted by my love of pickled herring, and leaves the room whenever I come home with a fresh batch of kim chi from the local Asian mart.

Yes, there is no explaining my love of these simple, homespun delicacies. I love them the way the Romans loved otter’s noses and pelican giblets. The taste for them is as ingrained in me as my midwestern accent, and while I do not carry around a banner announcing these quirks, yes quirks of gastronomical perplexity, I would walk through a blizzard in Iowa in January to eat them.

This being said, there are rules. There are, of course, always rules. I would never, for example, bring them to a church potluck. These delicacies are for my taste buds alone, and I tend to consume them in private.

The other day J. brought home a jar of pickled herring she found at Ikea. The sauce was scented with the flavor of roe. They popped in your mouth like champagne bubbles. It was a delight. The only thing I liked better was the fact that my youngest, well, now third child asked to try them. Never in my life has anyone said, “How about a handful of those smoked oyster stuffed cherry tomatoes for the road?” J. pointed out that I might finally have found my brother in arms, so to speak. I was delighted. Though I had to be careful... She is a child after all and highly susceptible to the influence of her parents. Show too much praise and they immediately become wary. Instead I enjoyed this secret pleasure that my daughter and I shared, even as a tiny champagne bubble exploded in my mouth.

This is a language typically only family members can decode. It is not for the uninitiated. leafing through a copy of my grandmothers personal cookbook, I spy page after page of recipes i know and love. Porcupine Meatballs, peppercorn swordfish. I don't expect anyone else to understand. However, my sister was visiting for the birth of our fourth child. “How about some kipper snacks?” I asked. “You bet!” she said with a smile. She understands.