While I often pride myself on being open to new ideas, whether it be learning about diverse cultures, acquiring a new language, or appreciating art and music from a variety of genres I must confess that there is one area in which I am far from adventurous. I like my food plain. Sauces, spice, even condiments like mustard, mayo, and ketchup are often too much for me. I like my food like some people like their scotch – neat; nothing extra.By all accounts I apparently suffered extreme bouts of colic as an infant, those largely unexplained marathon sobs fests that often leave parents sleep deprived and dangerously close to getting in touch with their latent homicidal tendencies. Colic remains one of the great medical mysteries it seems, but pediatric experts theorize that it may be a nervous system disorder or perhaps a form of lactose intolerance to certain types of infant formulas. Whatever the cause, I suspect that my early challenges with regard to eating and sleeping comfortably are at least partially responsible for my preference for the “land of bland” when it comes to food choices.
The first evidence of this is in an 8mm home movie of my first birthday. (I’ve searched in vain for the clip to post; it is truly hilarious!) My mother had apparently made a dark chocolate birthday cake and the grimace on my face after one small bite says more than even the harshest New York Times restaurant review. But most entertaining is the incredulous look that I give to my then nine-year-old sister as she happily munches away. “You’re EATING THAT?” my expression seems to say. Even without the benefit of any audio on the early 1960s film, my opinion of the strong flavor of dark chocolate at that age is unmistakable.
While my opinion of dark chocolate has mellowed with age, my attitudes about other strong flavors and spicy foods have not. Plain rice, cottage cheese, and lightly buttered pasta (sans marinara sauce) are among my dietary staples. Extra sharp cheddar cheese and the microscopic dot of wasabi on my sushi represent the full extent of my forays into the bold frontiers of gastronomic delights. The late Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations program actually gave me nightmares.
My quirky eating habits have amused my family for years. In 2005 I married a man who thinks that jalapeno laced Mexican fare is simply to die for and that blistering Indian curry is nothing short of paradise. After several unsuccessful attempts at conversion we’ve managed to come to an amicable solution. Several years ago we sojourned to the Tears of Joy hot sauce emporium in Austin, Texas where my loving husband purchased some $60.00 worth of assorted fire-breathing sauces which he now happily adds to most of the dishes I place before him on our dinner table. I, in turn, have become adept at finding the blandest items available on the menus of every Mexican and Indian restaurant across the country.
So, consider this post a “shout out” to any of my fellow “Blandanians” out there. The “Land of Bland” doesn’t have to be a lonely place. Let me hear from you! Be strong, be proud, but most importantly, be free from the tyranny of gastrointestinal distress!
quietlyradical 