Bizarre Foods

Jason LOVES to watch Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on the Travel Channel. Unfortunately, even listening to Mr. Zimmern simply describe the foods he's eating makes me want to lose my lunch.

No offense, Mr. Zimmern. I'm sure you're a lovely person. You certainly have taste buds of steel. But I'm not sure if I admire you or if I am disgusted by you.

And I may be onto a new weight loss plan! Just watch Bizarre Foods and never have an appetite to eat again! Patent pending.

Even though Jason could be considered a foodie, I have a more...ahem...discriminating palate.

I blame my mom (love you, mom!). The only veggies we had to eat growing up were potatoes, green beans, peas, or corn. And I'm pretty sure 3 out of the 4 don't technically qualify as vegetables.

I'm sure my mom would defend her choices by insisting that my sister and I refused to try new things even if she fixed it, thus creating a vicious cycle of pickiness, but this blog isn't about her defense (still love you mom!).

So back to me, food stuffs like artichokes, capers, spinach never crossed the threshold of my lips until I went to college and my roommates cooked with all of it. They were FAYN-CEE roomies.

Considering my food discrimination tendencies, it shouldn't have surprised me when Micah infomed Jason that he doesn't like sandwiches.

The most innocuous food ever invented in all mankind.

His reasoning was that he likes bread, and he likes meat, but he doesn't like meat and bread together.

And thus we submitted further DNA to determine exactly TO WHOM these children belong.

I was surprised, however, when he came home from a field trip to our local wetlands with the following information.

"Mommy, can we eat dinner at the wetlands?"

My initial thought was that putting a concession stand in a watery habitat seemed a little counterintuitive. You know, with all the nature and earthiness of it all. Carbonated HFCS and bags of processed chemicals flavored like fried potatoes was a bit dichotomous in my estimation. When I asked Micah what was on the menu, he replied, "Cattails."

"As in the plant?"

"Yeah. The guy told us that you can eat cattails, but only some of them. Some are poisonous. He even let us taste them! Can we go back to the wetlands and eat more cattails?"

"Sweetie, I wouldn't know the difference between the good ones and the poisonous ones," trying to reason with him. AS IF WE WOULD EAT THEM EVEN IF I DID KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

What I wanted to say was that I was (am) completely unable to come up with any reason why I would EVER eat a cattail. Unless I needed a brain transplant and Andrew Zimmern was the only available donor.

The conversation quickly turned into the kind of downward spiral that conversations with 6 year olds often do when said child thinks he is offering perfectly reasonable explanations for why one's family should go vegetarian in a glorified man-made swamp. And ended with, "No, because I said so." In my most intelligent-sounding adult tone.

The next morning, before the boys ate breakfast, I had to clean my breakfast counter. Because I'm so efficient like that. I used my homemade solution of vinegar scented with peppermint oil, and when Micah came in he said, "It smells like mint in here."

We sometimes call him Captain Obvious.

Then he continued, "You know, we ate mint at the wetlands."

WHAT?!?! Let me get this straight, son: You're acceptable selection of foods is pretty limited to PB&J, macaroni and cheese, and assorted fruits. But when you go on a school field trip, you'll eat any manner of strange plant offered to you by a strange man.

Does that about sum it up?

It's quite possible that Jason and I need to take a trip out to the wetlands ourselves, not only to shake this miracle worker's hand, but also to offer him a position cooking in our kitchen.