Skip to main content

Wishing for a Broader Palate


It happened again. Wednesday night I ventured out to a new downtown eatery and came away nonplussed. It's an Indian restaurant, Kohinoor, which only opened last month. To be clear: my lack of enthusiasm is not in any way related to the restaurant, itself. The staff were nice, the service was good, the setting was clean and cozy. No, the culprit is, again, my fussy sense of taste.

Pretty much all my life, I've been a picky eater. Not sure why. Over the years it has become something of an annoyance. How I would love to enjoy a broader range of foods. Alas, the taste buds do not comply. At one point, I chastised my mother, certain in the belief that she had somehow never brought me up with the proper potpourri of dining experiences. She quickly noted that, from a very early age, I'd spit out the vegetable-flavored baby food.

The pickiness, it runs deep.

Dear reader, I didn't even like hamburgers until I was almost ten. Hamburgers. I can clearly remember visiting cousins in Farmer City, and the decision had been made to go get some food from a local joint called Dewey's. The adults were going around taking our orders. I cautiously asked what kind of food this Dewey's place served, and was told that they're known for their hamburgers. I declined. Hamburgers were gross. Everyone insisted that Dewey's burgers were great, so, hungry and outnumbered, I relented. And the hamburger was awesome. I've been a hamburger fan ever since, but only of thin ones.

Alas, the aforementioned experienced has not really played-out the same for other things. Ants on a Log (peanut butter and raisins inside a stick of celery) are a non-starter. Deep-fried broccoli? Ugh, don't get me started. Smooth and creamy mashed potatoes (i.e. instant): Awesome. Lumpy mashed potatoes: Terrible. Adding onions to any dish: Unforgivable. Salads are persona non grata. Ethnic foods are, unfortunately, typically too interesting for my taste buds to appreciate.

All of this is why I tend to haunt the same restaurants, or eat many of the same dishes at home. It isn't any slam on people or places who serve foods that have a wide array of flavors and ingredients. This is my issue, not theirs. It's just growing a bit tiresome as I grow older. I long to experience more things, including various types of food. For the most part, my finicky palate remains uncompromising in this endeavor.

So, I think you should definitely give Kohinoor a try. I went there with my partner and a friend, and they both devoured their meals. Others dining there seemed to be happy and were enjoying their offerings, so please don't be dissuaded by my pickiness, my lack of appreciation for the finer things. Until such time as these taste buds change, it'll be instant mashed potatoes for me.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If You Could Read My Mind

Dance clubs are a funny thing. They contain within their walls a life force and vibrancy sometimes unmatched anywhere else. When dusk settles and the lights come on, people will flood the dance floors to gyrate to music with hypnotic beats and songs about love, lust and fun at the disco. At gay bars, this sort of scenario usually increases ten-fold. It isn't for everyone, but for many it is a respite from the harsh realities of the real word. It is a place that isn't just a structure, but a sanctuary where folks -- minorities in their own communities -- can take shelter and unwind with abandon, at least for a few nighttime hours.
As someone who benefited greatly from such an aforementioned gay dance club, you can imagine my dismay at news of the closing of Chester Street Bar. In business for over three decades, gay-owned and operated, there was a time when C-Street (as it was known by most) was the only haven for those in the LGBT community, near and far, to enjoy themselves …

Third Death

My father has had three funerals. The third (though perhaps not final) one, was last night.
In reality, Lewis died in 1997. Cancer. Aged 52. He had a real funeral. I was there. The next two funerals occurred only in my dreams, yet they seemed real at the time, and their impact during the waking hours was keenly felt.
You see, during the intervening nineteen years, Lewis has come back to life in my dreams, many times. It is more than simply having a dream about him. During these nighttime images, it is noted that Lewis shouldn't be there, that he died of cancer and is resting six feet under. How, then, could he be alive and, seemingly, healthy?

Thoughts on an Election

Before I get started on the ruminations of the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election, I'll begin by saying I really have no clue as to who our next president will be. I've always fretted over the outcome of elections, regardless of the polls, and this year is no different. Especially this year. A good case can be made as to why Hillary Clinton will become our 45th president. All one has to do is look at the polls. Clinton has a comfortable lead in many states, enough to make one think that she will win handily on November 8th.
Of course, polls can be wrong. 538 gives Clinton's changes of winning in the low-mid 80 percent range. Several polls would seem to agree. Many Republicans are jumping ship from Trump. The race looks over. But of course, humanity isn't as easily predictable as polling would have us believe. Things happen. People can surprise us. And, for better or worse, I think that Donald Trump may very well become our next president.