July 10, 2008
I was about 17 when I began my hatred of cilantro. I had just entered college, and to celebrate, my father took me to a yuppie Chinese restaurant a few miles from the university. As a big fan of Eastern food, I happily ordered some seafood udon. This noodle soup looked delicious, except it had some green flakes floating in it and a wad of what looked like parsley on top of it. I took a sip, and a flavor I could only describe as "rotten plastic" permeated my mouth. My father, a cilantro-lover, insisted there was no way plastic could taste rotten and that I obviously didn't have the refined palate he did. I was forced to dump this delicious-looking soup in a to-go container, where it wasted away in the fridge because every time I tried to open the lid, the stench of cilantro wafted out like so much miasma. Turns out the restaurant dumps cilantro on pretty much everything they make, if not IN the entree, in huge bunches next to it as garnish. My father always eats those sprigs and takes the opportunity to tease me about my hatred of cilantro, effectively turning me off that restaurant forever.
A few years later I found myself working at a southwest fast food place. Prior to me working there, it had been one of my favorite places to get tacos while at school. Now that I was actually working at one, it seemed great to get the same food I liked for free. That was until I realized they put cilantro in damn near everything they make except the tacos. The salsa, the guacamole, the beans, the steak marinade... they even had fresh cilantro on the line, for people that wanted even MORE cilantro on their food! My only real joy at work was being on prep and taking a sharp knife to those stalks of pure hell. I ended up quitting two months later.
I'm glad there's actually a sizable portion of people that hates this inane vegetation as much as I do. To this day, I've only found one other person that hates cilantro at the same level as me, and I'm dating him.