last summer i had 'spinach dumplings' with a friend and the secret ingredient was pork. didn't have the gusto to return it. conveying my self imposed dietary restrictions to native english speakers is tedious enough. i think that, even with the proper asiatic vernacular, my discourse on what i consider to be food would have been meet with a blank stare. i finished my dumplings in silence. with extra fish sauce.
the fall before that, i was at some opening to a play. there was a buffet in the lobby: many unmarked, unmanned goodies. i (thought i) could identify a few's ingredients by sight, one of which was a bruchetta (sp? it's late. . .) style appetizer that had bean paste on it. they were the tastiest thing there. i went back for more. and then more. and ok, maybe one more. the last one i ate, i bit into something the texture of bone. yes, a small bone. oops. well, that will be the last one for me.
i read this short story once, about a newly wed couple, traditional in their ways. they were very open and loving. the husband had but one request, that the wife never cook or feed him red meat. no concrete answer was given as to why, but perhaps some squirrelly replies involvin phrases such as 'this is how i grew up,' 'my mother's dying request,' followed by an adamant 'just do this, or else.' the wife let it go and focused on the good of their relationship, which was everything but this culinary taboo. days, weeks, months go by, wife is out shopping, comes across a nice cut of red meat/(insert proper cut of meat verbiage, this veggie is out of the loop) and decides to why the heck not surprise her hubby and make him something containing the forbidden protein. so home she went and prepared a delicious soup, disguising the meat texture with fine chopping, it's flavor with finer spices. husband comes home. they sit to eat. throughout the meal, he tries to get her to tell her what is in the soup that he is enjoying more than any other meal she has cooked for him in their entire abbreviated time of marriage. she teases and keeps him guessing until finally, his bowl is empty, his curiosity is peaked, she drops the bomb and as it lands the smile from his face falls and he stares with horrific disbelief. turns out the guy was allergic to red meat. and by allergic, i mean that the consumption of red meat triggered an irreversible process where in he morphed into a werewolf. oops.
moral of the story is: A. make lllittle labels if you bring/make/serve food at a potluck style event. as a courtesy to those with dietary restrictions and allergies. B. if you are strictdfaffse -(woops, 'scuse me, dont know what that was) vegan/veggie, best not just go sampling the spread all willy nilly. (unless it's free, of course) and C. when @9 93 (* Hehisf (darn, that is weird, it's like i lost control of my hand just there) someone says they don't want to eat whatever food, they probs have HU(eJKjf (oh my, i'm feeling a little woozy, must have been something i ate...) a good rrrrrrreason. rrrrrrraaaBANGaaaaaaaahhhhhggggggghhhhhh CRASH
AGHGHHHARARRR H GAG aaaoooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(exits room as wear wolf)