There are few things that I will refuse to eat. In fact, I can only recall two things of which I have turned down the opportunity to sample:
bull penis (Córdoba, Spain)
(with french fries, naturally)and sheep head (Marrakech, Morocco).
Not only do I try just about anything, but I like (or at least, do not dislike) most things, too. It’s a matter of pride for me. I love spinach, mushrooms, and I even like brussels sprouts. Not only that, but I might even admit to liking morcilla, as long as we don’t mention what it actually
is.
But there are a few things I would rather not eat. I don’t like sweet & sour sauce, pickles, relish, or olives. Never have.
Naturally, as the whole matter is an issue of pride, I do my best to try these things from time to time. However, the frequency with which I try these things is directly proportional to the frequency with which I find them on my plate. Makes sense, right? If they’re there, I figure I might as well give them a shot and see if anything has changed. Consequently, I have eaten a lot of olives without actually liking them. Growing up, I was the only one who didn’t like black olives. Every time we ordered pizza, there were olives. I picked them off. At Thanksgiving, I was the only kid not getting olives from the hors d’oeuvres table, then sticking them on the end of my fingers so I could have cool olive fingers.
Then I went to Spain. Spaniards love olives. I think it may be illegal for them to dislike olives. A Spaniard not liking olives would be tantamount to a Brit not liking tea (though I have actually met one such Brit - at least, she claimed she was English - she was probably lying).
In the US, I had somehow gathered the impression that a black olive was sort of a precursor to the green olive. In other words, if you like black olives, you should try green olives - you might like them, too. But if you don’t even like black olives, you won’t like green olives - there’s no point in even trying them.
But I tried them anyway.
Many times.
I always tried them if they were on my plate, and I always disliked them.
Until one day...
I was having lunch with M2 in Granada. We were getting the Menú del Día at a restaurant that was located right next to a big plaza. I can still see it in my mind’s eye. I ate a green olive. And I liked it. It was pretty amazing. I tried to communicate the magic of the moment to Matt, but I don’t think he quite understood. Anyway, I didn’t just start liking olives from then on. There may have been a few in the following years that I liked, but I didn’t just start eating any old olive. It wasn’t long after that apperception that I returned to the US. So my encounters with olives were drastically reduced in number and I all but forgot that magical moment in Granada. Until one day…
A couple of months ago, my boss brought home some jalapeño stuffed olives.
I tried one.
I liked it.
I ate more.
I started picking them up regularly at the grocery store and my boss and I have both been enjoying them.
Now I am in the habit of eating Melba Snacks with Laughing Cow spreadable cheese and sliced jalapeño stuffed olives. Yum.
A couple of weeks ago, the grocery store was out of the jalapeño stuffed olives. So that evening, I made my little snack with regular olives, and I still really liked it! That’s how I know I’ve truly turned a corner here.
But I still don’t like black olives.
