February 20, 2009
I moved to California from Ohio a very long time ago. I love food. Some people eat to live, I live to eat. For years I had a love/hate relationship with Mexican food. The Taco Bell stuff was, at best, OK. The really good stuff, the kind you get in a little hole-in-the-wall place was either great. Or I couldn't get it down. On day, at work, I got a burrito off of the roach coach and it was awful. I couldn't eat it and I asked my co-worker Al Bull to taste it and tell me what that horrid taste was. I took a bite and said that it seem OK but it did have a lot of cilantro in it. I was an Ohio boy. I never even heard of cilantro. That evening while going through the produce section at the local supermarket I spied some bunches of cilantro basking under the sprayer. I pinched off one leaf and bit into it and it was an awakening. This was the retched stuff that I couldn't stand, cilantro. Now when I order anything Mexican, I tell the server that I'm allergic to cilantro. If you say you don't like the stuff they will try to sneak it in. Say your very allergic to it.