Foodie

I hear you karion, I do. As open of a palate as I have (which is to say I’ll eat anything twice), I have one very irrational distaste, for an item that is arguably foundational to nearly every cuisine: I hate onions!

I especially hate raw onions, and if I have to pick the raw red onions off a burger, I’m sad the whole day because I can smell them on my fingers. If I see the word “onion” as part of a menu description, I usually order something else. Cooked, carmelized, roasted: people always try to convince me how good onions can be, but I just won’t do it.

I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse. I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere.

Well, that’s not exactly true, and that’s where the irrationality comes in: I love French Onion Soup. And those little cocktail onions in a Gibson…

karion:

try as I might, there are just some things I cannot stand to eat, including olives and capers.  Lest you call me a hater of things briny, I could live on oysters for the rest of my life, I love a dirty martini, and I have had impure thoughts about bathing in extra virgin olive oil.