This Evening
Tonight I feel satisfied after a great lasagne meal at Þórun's apartment in Reykjavík. She is one of Inga's oldest friends. Wait, that didn't come out right. She's the friend who's been with Inga the longest, she's not that old. But, to put things in proper perspective, she's older than I am. Anyway, she seems to enjoy cooking food that I certainly enjoy eating. However, the meal made me realize just how old I am.
You see, I have this theory that kids don't like food with strong flavors because their tongue is so sensative because all the taste buds are new, they haven't been burned too often and their body is renewing everything faster. Then, as one approaches the age of 18 or 19 or 20 or so, the body reaches it's optimal state of being and slowly starts dying off. Things are not replaced as quickly, joints begin to ache, and the senses begin to go as well. This last accounts for the diminishing of the taste buds and therefore, the adults' constant search for foods of stronger flavor. It began about 12 years ago when I started liking cheeses other than good old bland American deli cheese. At the ripe old age of about 25 I discovered that I liked walnuts all of a sudden. Shortly there after, I became aware that my hearing had gone to the point that bagpipes started sounding pleasant to my ears, (well, the Scottish ones anyway).
To get to the point, I had to force myself to willingly place hazlenuts into my mouth today-out of sheer politeness and respect for Þórun (and all the work she put into this dinner...and all the videos she would lend us). She made a cake and deviously made me believe that the only recipie she had was for a chocolate cake crawling with hazlenuts. Well, I closed my eyes and since I'm not one to see a woman cry, I took a bite. The scene reminded me of the defeat of the guy who refused again and again to taste the green eggs and ham. To my horror, age has claimed my mouth's aversion to the evil that has always shadowed the term "hazlnut". The cake was maliciously tastey. It was almost like it was making fun of me! I tried not to like it, but resist as I might, triumph was not mine to be had. My pernicious bane, Age, has won yet another skirmish in the campaign of time. I have to admit that if that cake lay before me now, I would eat another piece, distended though my gut is.
I resign my fate...for now.
You see, I have this theory that kids don't like food with strong flavors because their tongue is so sensative because all the taste buds are new, they haven't been burned too often and their body is renewing everything faster. Then, as one approaches the age of 18 or 19 or 20 or so, the body reaches it's optimal state of being and slowly starts dying off. Things are not replaced as quickly, joints begin to ache, and the senses begin to go as well. This last accounts for the diminishing of the taste buds and therefore, the adults' constant search for foods of stronger flavor. It began about 12 years ago when I started liking cheeses other than good old bland American deli cheese. At the ripe old age of about 25 I discovered that I liked walnuts all of a sudden. Shortly there after, I became aware that my hearing had gone to the point that bagpipes started sounding pleasant to my ears, (well, the Scottish ones anyway).
To get to the point, I had to force myself to willingly place hazlenuts into my mouth today-out of sheer politeness and respect for Þórun (and all the work she put into this dinner...and all the videos she would lend us). She made a cake and deviously made me believe that the only recipie she had was for a chocolate cake crawling with hazlenuts. Well, I closed my eyes and since I'm not one to see a woman cry, I took a bite. The scene reminded me of the defeat of the guy who refused again and again to taste the green eggs and ham. To my horror, age has claimed my mouth's aversion to the evil that has always shadowed the term "hazlnut". The cake was maliciously tastey. It was almost like it was making fun of me! I tried not to like it, but resist as I might, triumph was not mine to be had. My pernicious bane, Age, has won yet another skirmish in the campaign of time. I have to admit that if that cake lay before me now, I would eat another piece, distended though my gut is.
I resign my fate...for now.
posted by Our Hero, at 11:58 PM
4 Comments:
Alveg rétt mjög góð kaka.....og skemmtilegur gestgjafi...og skemmtilegur eiginmaður!
It is a sad but true fact that as we get older we begin to search for foods of stronger and stronger flavors. It has happened to me as well. However, the ultimate cruelty of old fart-a-tude has not yet struck you as it has me. You see, along with your taste buds your stomach also gets weaker and weaker so that by the time you are dipping slices of raw garlic into chili paste and popping them into your mouth your digestive track starts begging for mercy. As a result you find yourself in an unending battle between your tongue and your tummy with neither of them being truly happy. Oh well. What can you do?
That's true, Paul, I'm not quite as much of an old fart as you are. I still have the stomach of an 18 year old. I can eat almost anything without too much rebellion in the deep south. I think it comes from the frequent "Taco Bell Chili Sauce Drinking Competitions" I used to enter with my friends in high school. That stuff will harden anyone's stomach.
And by the way, South Korea still holds the record for me in the Country with the Largest Bags of Garlic for Sale category! I saw a woman while I was there who was carrying a bag of garlic almost as big as she was. I bet she's a joy to kiss.
Those giant bags of garlic are very common in Korea. It's because garlic goes into everything they cook. By the way, no one really minds "garlic breath" here because everyone has it.
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