Look. I have a confession. I know it will probably change the way you think of me forever, but I just have to come clean. I’ve tried to make it right many times throughout my adult life, but it just hasn’t come together as I’d hoped.
I DON’T LIKE CURRY.
Yep. I’ll let that sink in. I don’t like curry. I don’t like the flavour and I don’t like it when it’s really spicy. Even if it’s kind of mild, I will be all like, “WTF? This is MILD? Yeah. Right. More like BURNS ME HOT.”
I don’t like red curry, yellow curry, green curry or any other coloured curry of the rainbow.
Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. If everyone wants Indian, I’ll try really hard to attempt it. Except for the odd occasion where I stand my ground (I’m not perfect). People tell me, “Oh just try the mild ones.”
NO. NO. NO. It’s the FLAVOUR I can’t get on board with. The hotness is just a side issue, dammit!
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everyone I know loves a good curry. Wanna know what else is strange? I LOVE the smell of a Thai green or red curry. LOVE IT. Sometimes I even fool myself into thinking it will be OK, but alas, some of that stuff gets in my mouth region and I am reminded yet again that I am not a real human being. Real human beings like curry. What’s with that? I think there’s something wrong there. I mean, usually the inviting aroma of something means it will taste good. I need like a curry doctor to get all up in my brain and figure out why my nostrils are leading me astray. Is it the coconut milk? IS IT?!
I liked my parents’ way of dealing with meal times when I was a kid. There was no special treatment. You didn’t get a separate meal for a bit of whinging. I admire that.
…Except for when curry was on the night’s menu. I would beg them, “Please have mercy on me!”
Even the mild curries would hurt my soul. The flavour just seemed like some kind of weird herby dirt to me. And I don’t want to tell you what it looked like to me.
So, for every rule there was an exception. One night I broke down into melodramatic tears and gave the most impassioned speech of my life.
“Please, Mum. Please, Dad. When I eat curry – even the mild ones – it hurts. It burns my tongue and my throat! I would understand if it was just a flavour thing, but it hurts me too. It hurts me. Food shouldn’t hurt you! You don’t want me to hurt, do you? By giving me curry, you are knowingly causing me PAIN! PLEASE! SHOW SOME COMPASSION!”
From then on, they would save a bit of meat from the pan and serve it plain with some rice. It was the most boring, bland and not-vibrant-at-all meal you could ever imagine. I think they were hoping the blah-ness of it would make me rethink my decision. But it was better than curry.
As an adult, I have attempted to taste most curries. Even if it’s just a couple of spoonfuls of Indian takeaway with my family. I feel that as a really lame but committed and hungry foodie, it’s my responsibility to know what most foods of the world taste like and not be a whiny little b*tch about what everyone else wants to eat (except for super weird sh*t like animal testicles and eyes and stuff). I still can’t love it. I wish I could be one of the curry loving cool kids. I feel like a picky freak. WHAT’S MY PROBLEM?
I really hope the Little Mister grows up to like it. His social life will be so much easier and he won’t dread that line, “So, I was thinking there’s this new awesome Indian place – we should eat there tonight!” while everyone in a crowd nods excitedly until he has no choice but to go along with sadness in his heart.
Although, not all is lost. Luckily, in that situation, I have a secret weapon.
I f*cking love naan bread. Cheesy, garlicky, herby, fattening naan bread. Bring it. ALL OF IT.
What foods do you dislike? Ever tried really hard to like something everyone else likes, just to make life easier?
