April 19, 2006
Having grown up in Colorado, a veritable Mexican-food paradise, I can't go more than a couple of days without a burrito or a nice relleno. For years upon years, my addiction was fed easily and successfully and readily. Sure, there would be the occasional crappy green chile, or the 'artistic' salsa . . . but they were simply unpleasing.
Then, I'd guess about 10 years ago, this vile weed began appearing in everything from salsa to pico to . . . this is hard to say. . . green chile. At first it was only found at the artsy fartsy Boulder-ish places where the waitstaff would look down their noses at a customer who dared ask for something as simple and unsophisticated as green chile. But then slowly, steadily, frighteningly, its use began to spread like the plague. Now, I live in fear. Someone will say, "Hey, let's have Mexican" and I find myself, rather than being all for it, dreading the inevitable question: "Does your salsa have cilantro in it?" This is always followed by the obligatory "Yes Sir!!!" with some sadistic, nearly criminal smile.
What the hell is wrong with these people? I typically hear two opinions regarding cilantro. The first matches my own, "I'd rather eat a steaming pile of dog doo resting gently upon a dew-laden spring morning lawn." The second is perhaps more disturbing that some bizarre love of this disgusting weed. People will say, "There's cilantro in this? I can't tell, I can't taste it." That's akin, in my opinion to stating, "My arm is on fire? Hmm, I can't feel it."
Thank God for this site and for the eventual, inevitable erradication of this vile weed.