Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
|
|
|
M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
|
|
Tuesday, May 04, 2010 Smooth Move I can't stand most fruit. As Woody Harrelson says about coconut in Zombieland, it's not the taste, but the texture. It's just the way fruit bursts and squishes in my mouth all juicy-like. I can't chew a grape without imagining a freshly excised eyeball in my mouth, or a strawberry without visualizing a short, fat, sweet grub. I don't even like to touch raspberries or blackberries, which have so much give in them it's like handling the fingertips of a mouldering corpse. A simple orange section, which normal people find cool and refreshing, feels to me like biting into the heart of a refrigerated guinea pig. This is my cross to bear, and I bear it with dignity. This is not to say that I don't like any fruit at all. I love bananas, and I like apples, and I'll eat a pear if I must. But for the most part I'd just rather take the scurvy, thanks. The point of all this is that after we hosted a big breakfast at our house the weekend before last, we had several big containers of fresh strawberries left over that were going to go bad (or, in my opinion, worse)before Trash and M. Edium would eat them on their own. I realized I had to step up. No, this isn't going to turn into a heroic tale of me overcoming my gag reflex, or a funny one about it overcoming me. More a triumph of lateral thinking. My fruit-block is in fact so intense that once I walked into a Jamba Juice, looked at everything on the menu in search of something that didn't contain something I hate, and coming up empty. Every single item had something to be avoided. I don't know what I expected -- maybe something with bananas, chocolate milk, and a frosted donut -- but it just wasn't there. And yet, last week, when I needed a snack and found myself looking at what seemed like a whole shelf full of short, fat, sweet grubs glimmering redly up at me from their clear plastic boxes, I questioned my assumptions. What's in a smoothie? I wondered. I could blend a pitcher for myself and Trash both, using bananas, ice, yogurt, and yes, some of those strawberries. I decided I was up for it. After all, even though I can't abide an actual strawberry, I certainly enjoy candy, soda, Froot Loops, and other things with fake strawberry flavor. And I don't like yogurt much better than I like strawberries, but let's face it: I'm not going to sit down and eat a bowl of flour or shortening, but both are in cookies, and I'll happily sit down and eat a bowl of those. So I sucked it up and dumped all four ingredients in the blender and then spent about ten minutes grinding it up into a uniform pink paste. Here went nothing. And I loved it! I've been making them almost every workday since then. Trash tells me they're super-healthy, and after I got over the initial nausea of having consumed something that was actually good for me, I could only agree. For yesterday's smoothie, I even jazzed it up a little with some fresh raspberries and a little vanilla extract. Last week, I made a special yogurt run, unasked. And now, for the first time in my life, I find myself concerned whether there is enough fruit in the house, where in the past the amount of fruit in my house always seemed to be "too much." I don't even know who I am any more. But I do know that with all this fruit I'm consuming lately, I feel justified in eating a lot more bowls of cookies. This is win-win. posted by M. Giant 9:36 PM 5 comments 5 Comments:
I’ve never heard of someone who rejects fruit on the basis of its texture. How intriguing.
By This is the weirdest thing you have ever written. My mind, it has been boggled.
By @Andy Oysters? Bleaargh! Ack oop ptui!
By
I absolutely get the texture thing. While I don't have issues with fruit necessarily, it does impair other food areas. I mean, what is the point of water chestnuts? Ever? I don't need something squeaky and crunchy in my food that makes me think I bit into a bug!
By I this was going to be about constipation. I hate the texture of oranges, too.
By 
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
