After posting yesterday, I realized that I had done something else that I never thought I would do: I bought a tomato. And ate some of it. And made my family eat some, too.
Why is this worthy of mention?
Well, I have been (and still am…) a picky eater. People make fun of me for it, which I think is actually a little rude, becasue I try not to be obnoxious or impolite about it, but hey, whatever.
One of the things I don’t eat is tomatoes. And neither does my husband. (Neither does his sister or HER husband, which is one of the great ironies of my mother-in-law’s life. She gardens. Big. And has 2 children and 2 children-in-law that don’t eat tomatoes. And as a result, none of her grandchildren eat tomatoes, either. At least, mine don’t….)
I do like things with tomato IN them, or that are tomato based, and god knows, my boys like tomato-based stuff. Joe is the Ketchup King. But don’t make us eat a plain old tomato, whether it be cut and chunky in a sauce, or diced on top of a salad, or…on our hamburgers ta the restaurant. Ugh.
Except. In the last couple of years, I’ve decided that maybe they aren’t so horrible, especially if they are in tiny chunks in my salad, where I can’t actually taste them when they are mixed in wiht the lettuce and covered in salad dressing. And maybe it’s OK to have the tomato on my chicken sandwich at McDs.
Or maybe, when we eat chicken tacos, it would be OK to have some tomato cut up into tiny chunks and thrown in with the lettuce and cheese.
OK, those of you that know me and have had to choose a restaurant around my taste buds, just sat up and said “What?”
“Did she just say chicken TACOS?”
Yes, you heard that right. I actually served chicken tacos to my family on Sunday. Another thing I said I’d never do. Because, you see, I don’t like Mexican food. It all stems from a childhood experience of getting sick after eating tacos. I associated getting sick with Mexican food (it probably had no relation…) and thereafter refused to eat anything that I considered “Mexican” food. I couldn’t even really stand the smell of meat being cooked in taco seasoning. Ugh.
But a couple of years ago we were at Mark’s aunt and uncle’s house and they served tacos. I had no choice (and I was polite about it). In the process, I discovered that while I wasn’t suddenly in LOVE with the taste, it didn’t make me sick, and I could stand to eat it occasionally. Mark really likes tacos, and because I love him, I decided that I would be able to stand to make tacos on occasion.
We’ve done both ground beef and chicken, but I think I prefer the chicken. I do have to add that my version of a taco is VERY EXTREMELY mild. I take the packet of seasoning that is meant to be used on a pound of ground beef and I use about a THIRD of that.
The boys hate it, but they eat it. Which is better than I would have done when I was that age, I think.
So. Back to the tomato:
Yesterday, I had to run to the grocery store to get lettuce, and while I was there I grabbed a tomato.
You should have heard the whining and wailing when I informed the family I was making them put a tiny bit of tomato on their tacos.
And that was just from Mark.
Everyone ate it. And Mark admitted that he couldn’t even taste the tomato, in small chunks, surrounded by meat and taco sauce.
Thinking about it afterward, I found myself wishing I had gotten some sour cream for mine, though. Would you believe that THAT is unusual, too? I never used to like sour cream, either.
Mark and the boys went out to the farm in the afternoon, and Mark really debated about whether he was going to tell his mother that (1) his wife had purchased a tomato and (2) he had eaten some of that tomato on his tacos.
In the end, he decided not to tell her. He was worried she’d start sending home sacks of tomatoes from her garden.
