Friday, August 02, 2002


When I was a kid growing up in the desert southwest, I disliked a lot of foods. It is easier to list the foods I liked rather than the ones I didn't. I liked:

French fries
Fried Chicken
Steak (both barbecued and chicken fried)

That was about it. Trouble was, my parents had this ridiculous idea that I needed to eat vegetables and fruits to stay healthy. Yuck. Hell, if they would have fried them, I'd probably have tried them. Some days I found my plate filled with liver and onions. Liver and onions smells good while being cooked but it's a different story on your tongue. The other staple they tossed my way was the sweet potato. Looked like a big, orange turd on my plate. I'd poke at it, mash it, smother it in sugar ..... no matter how I dressed it up, it was still a sweet potato and I didn't like it.

Different strokes for different folks.

Have you ever seen a Malaysian woman spot a barbecued sweet potato from afar? It's embarrassing.

They love the things.

They look like big, burnt, orange turds. A sweet potato, that is. I just can't understand it. Different cultures have different tastes. I watched in silent horror as Christine, my Malaysian friend on the Forbidden city tour in China, freak out at the sight of a burning sweet potato. She stood there haggling with the sweet potato burner for a reasonable price before purchasing the thing, still smoking, handed to her in a piece of newspaper.

There I was, crammed into a tea house, participating in a formal Chinese tea ceremony while sitting next to a beautiful Malaysian woman gorging herself on a burnt sweet potato and filling the pristine ashtray in front of her with burnt sweet potato skin.

I'm still getting over it.

Help me here Annie!


Web Analytics