June 14, 2009
You know, I never used to hate cilantro... I know, crazy, right? I certainly knew I didn't like it, and thought it tasted like mild dish soap... Yet being a child who was oft punished with the dab of dish soap on the toungue, I could tolerate it without immediately gagging. Cut to February, 2005. I'm in Peru, living it up with my art conservation classmates, and decide to try the local specialty, ceviche. THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. Eating uncooked fish in a country where you cannot under any circumstances ingest the water is just a bad call. I'm sure I also managed to ingest some of said water as well, because later that night and for the rest of the trip, I was wretchedly ill. Now I must clarify, the cilantro in that ceviche made me feel immediately nauseous, from which I did not recover all day... I'm sure it was the water, or the fish that made me physically ill, but the memory of those fresh green leaves violating my tastebuds and assaulting my nostrils will never, ever go away. Now I gag every time I pass it at the grocery store, and every time I leave the country I learn to say 'no cilantro, I'm allergic!' in the native tongue of whichever countries i'm visiting. If anyone has any tips for Morocco, please advise!