A hate affair with food

My husband's definition of a Picky Eater is somewhat liberal. If there is one food you do not like, you are a Picky Eater. So that would include most of the population, except for him. However, to him I am THE Picky Eater. But I tell him I am much less picky than I used to be. Just ask my siblings.

When I was 3 or 4, I would only eat steak. My mom complained to the doctor about it. He was very ahead of his time. These days, experts tell parents not to cater to kids' food whims but to encourage them to eat a variety of foods. This doctor told my mom, "If the kid will only eat steak, feed her steak!" So she did. While my parents and older brother and two sisters had meatloaf, I would gnaw on a ribeye.

Even when I was a teenager, salad to me was just lettuce. We'd go out to a restaurant and the waiter would say, "Salad or coleslaw?" "Just lettuce, please." "Lettuce?" "Yes, lettuce. Don't put any of those other things on there." "How about dressing?" "No, thanks." Nice and dry, that's how I liked my lettuce.

I still do not like my food touching. In fact, don't put the spaghetti sauce on top of the noodles; it goes next to it so I can eat them separately. Although I have learned to eat spaghetti like conventional society says it should be eaten, I still prefer it this way. And if the cottage cheese starts getting too curious about the rice next door, please give me a clean plate. Better yet, just give me a plate for each food. My father thinks this is crazy and always tried to tell me that it didn't make any difference, because the foods get mixed up in your stomach anyway, and you've gone to all that trouble for nothing. I don't really care what happens to it down there, but in my mouth, I definitely notice when foods are vying for my taste buds. I like to give them all equal time.

I have debunked the popular belief that "just try it, you'll like it." My aunt generously offered to make dinner for our family one night while she was visiting. She made up some sort of stir fry, one of those foods that is a nightmare for Picky Eaters, because we can't identify what is in it. Is that stringy thing a shoelace? What's that fuzzy stuff -- was the dog sniffing around my plate? She insisted I at least try it, and I warned her I wasn't going to like it. So I tried it, and of course I didn't like it. She did not talk to me for the rest of her stay. But at least I didn't have to try anything else suspicious.

when I was young my mom used to work at Sander's, a wonderful ice cream place that was an icon in Detroit. Sometimes I would to go work with her, and one day I was there the whole day. At the end of the day I told one of the other employees that I'd had the best two meals of my short life that day. She asked what they were. "I had a hot dog for lunch and a hamburger for dinner!" I told her. The sad thing is, I still think those are the two best meals.