January 23, 2007
Oh goodness. I don't remember my first cilantro experience but I do remember my worst. My husband, when we were dating, made this beautiful, lovely looking green salad (he was trying to impress me with his culinary abilities). I WAS very impressed and took a rather large portion of salad, took a bite BAM, CILANTRO!!!!!! Of course, we had just started dating and I wanted to be polite. I had to gag my way through most of it, smiling all the way. Torture. Of course, now he knows I hate it, and he LOOOOVEES it. The other day at the store, they had this big pile of fresh cilantro leaves in the produce department. He picked up a big bunch and sniffed it and actually asked me if I would consider cooking something containing it. Um, no. I can tolerate cooking lots of stuff for my hubby: Artichokes, fried okra, fava beans, even the occasional beef liver but please, NO CILANTRO. So anyway, I grabbed the big, wet bunch of cilantro in horror, threw it back in the bin and a couple minutes later as we were shopping, I noticed that my hands smelled like the stuff. I spent the next hour in the grocery store getting little whiffs of the evil weed of satan. It was like getting stabbed over and over with a toothpick.