-Something I hated as a kid that I now love as an adult:
The taste of parmesan.
I used to hate the smell of that stuff, especially the nasty Kraft parmesan in the green tube. Yuk. Couldn’t even sit next to people who were putting in on their food. I was never exposed to real parmesan. Now that I’m a grownup, I LOVE cutting a little chunk of parmesan reggiano and eating it just like that, without any other food interfering with that perfect taste. Mmmm…
-Something I loved as a kid that I hate now:
A piece of toast with butter on it, topped with lots of brown sugar.
Okay, I admit it: I probably wouldn’t hate it but I don’t think I could handle that amount of sugar anymore.
-Something I hated as a kid that I still hate:
The smell of whiskey on someone’s breath. In fact, even the smell of whiskey in a glass almost makes me gag. Can’t help it. Weird reflex. I must have smelled it on the breath of too many of my uncles. That, and gin…
Tu vois un inconv�nient � ce que je poste quelque chose dans la m�me logique sur mon blog ?
Diddo on the parmesan. The stuff in the green tube smells like vomit. Seriously.
patrick: exactly! what a surprise it was to discover actual yummy parmesan! and to find out i couldn’t live without it!
Moi c’�tait les champignons. Ma m�re �tait toujours �tonn� que je sois capable de les d�nicher peu importe le plat et d’en faire un petit tas bien propre sur le bord de l’assiette. Mais aujourd’hui, malgr� la haine cat�gorique pour ce petit l�gume entretenue pendant mon enfance, j’ai appris � aimer �a et c’est un des l�gumes r�guliers de mon frigidaire.
Somebaudy: Aucun probl�me mais merci de le demander!
My confession: I’m Italian and I hated the smell, but my mom used to mix it in with the pasta before she served it. And it NEVER came from a plastic tube. Now I devour chunks of the stuff before I grind it. With a good Chianti, heaven! I wonder how some of you would have faired faced with roast goat’s head and tripe on the table. Used to make me sick and still does. But I’ll never forget waking up on a Sunday morning to the aroma of simmering tomato sauce coming from the kitchen. It was torture having to wait till we got back from mass to eat it.