May 02, 2007
My story begins the same as many others: with Thai food. I was a poor student at New York University in the Big Apple and my not-poor friend offered to take me out for dinner, for Thai food, which I'd never had.
He ordered us Tom Kah soup and I took my first slurp and all I could taste was soap. I quietly asked, "John, does your soup taste like soap?"
"No," he replied. I innocently figured that my little soup bowl had not been rinsed well, called the waiter and got a new one. Put new soup in and...
Not knowing the cause, I moved onto a chicken yellow curry, which had no soap at all.
A few weeks later I was at a film fundraiser and bit into a wonderful looking Thai peanut wrap sandwich. My gorge rose and I ran over to the garbage can, luckily spitting out the food solved the problem. I gave the rest of the sandwich away.
Finally, my boyfriend was staying over at my super ghetto Avenue B apartment and romantically decided to make me an omelette for breakfast. He ran to the corner store, picked up eggs, red bell pepper, tomato, cheese and what looked like a big ol'bunch of parsley. But soon the soapy smell hit me and I started gagging.
"Ew! What is that? Get that out of here!" I shouted. Freaked out by my seemingly irrational behavior, he tried to throw it away in the apartment's garbage pail but I made him take it down to the nasty building garbage room instead.
When he came back upstairs, he told me it was cilantro.
Then I finally knew the enemy.