January 18, 2006
Many years ago, I worked at the Rock Bottom Brewery in Denver. There you may order a plates of nachos that is about the size of a pregnant cadillac. Just a HUGE quantity of nachos. Looks good, smells good.. But every time I ordered them, there was this weird taste. Wasn't sure how I felt about it at first; it was just noticiable. However the more I ate, the more I felt an unholy discordance within the very core of my being. I'd had nachos before. Never had a problem. But every time, I indulged in *THESE* nachos, I always ended up with a raging case of heartburn, causing me to run into the kitchen and make a baking soda and water (antacid) cocktail to quell the demons which were plagued my insides. And there was that strange taste....
It wasn't long before I isolated the vile foulness, manifesting itself in the shape of a cilantro leaf! "AHA!" I thought, "This is it!" as I lifted it to the sky, half expecting a bolt of lighting to crash through the heavens and strike the cursed weed from my hands.
And it's not just nachos. Oh noooo. Why, my chips and salsa experiences have been all but ruined because of cilantro. I'm tired of it taking 5 minutes to get the nastiness off of every bite. Deport cilantro back to whereever it came from. It's down-right unAmerican.
I take every bite of food at Qdoba and Chipotle with inured reluctance. At Qdoba I try to order a burrito with rice without cilantro, and they stare back at me with bitter apathy as they begrudgingly walk to the back to get me, the "jerk who doesn't like cilanatro", his "special rice".
Like many posters here, my worst experience was in a Vietnamese restaurant. "Oh! Let's try this place" I said to my then girlfriend, now wife. My first clue that I should have gotten out of there was the roasted goat entree on the menu. I let that slide and ordered some spring rolls. Figured they would be fried like egg rolls, etc. Well, THEY WEREN'T! They came to the table looking just delicious, but one bite in, I realized my error as I had a mouth full of the hellish substance called cillantro! It wasn't chopped up finely, it was the FULL SPRIG and LEAVES! A look of fury came about my face. My mouth was still full, but I had stopped chewing. I debated ejecting the stuff into a napkin, but before I could, I impulsively smacked my hand down loudly on the table, attracting the attention of every patron in the establishment. My wife asked me what's wrong? And past the partially chewed monstrosity that someone had sadistically spiked my food with, and through gritted teeth, I wispered the diabolical word, "*CILANTRO*!" But, I took it like a man. My stomach churned even before I forced it down my throat. It was almost as if I was forcing my body to do something against all it's instictive principles. It was all followed by a ghastly chill.
BAN CILANTRO... THE GREEN MENACE