June 27, 2007
The first time I ever had cilantro was for my Foods class.
I took Foods senior year, primarily because I wanted enough credits to graduate, and puttering around in a fully-stocked kitchen where someone else had to replace grease-burned saucepans seemed like a fine thing indeed.
It was pretty fun at first, despite a teacher with an IQ only slightly above that of the food she prepared, but before too long, I made the horrible, horrible mistake of missing a day.
You see, when we missed a day in which food was prepared, we had to take home a recipe and fix it, along with having a parent or guardian fill out a slip confirming that we made it. I looked at my recipe, and my heart was filled with joy.
"Cilantro hummus!" I exclaimed naively. "I love hummus!"
Two cups of cilantro.
The recipe had two cups of cilantro. For about four servings of cilantro hummus, there were two cups of cilantro. At the time, I didn't notice anything wrong. I didn't even know what cilantro was. Oh, for that type of innocence!
So, I dutifully mixed the chickpeas and oil, saving the two cups of mysterious green herb for last, and blended it all in the food processer. It turned a delightful green color. I poured it into a bowl, and with a feeling of great excitement, dipped a pita into the bowl. Eager to try my creation, I took a huge bite.
OH DEAR SWEET MOTHER OF GOD THAT WAS A MISTAKE.
"This is not hummus," I informed myself as I washed out my mouth with water, gingerale, tabasco, anything to make the horrible, horrible taste go away. "This is Satan in chickpea-paste format."
I cannot stand the taste of cilantro. I can't stand its appearance, its smell, and most certainly not its taste. I will forever hate my Foods teacher for destroying my once-great love of hummus. Two cups of cilantro for about four servings means that I ate that day half a cup of cilantro, and it is without a doubt the most horrible culinary experience of my life.