Thursday is choir night, and we still haven’t worked out that load-the-slow-cooker-at-noon thing such that dinner is ready when she gets home. She picked up something called “chicken fries” when she stopped at the market for the milk we needed for breakfast. I’m not sure if “chicken fries” are as closely related to McNuggets as they sound, but I’m not going to worry about it now.
I had the same choir-night dinner I’ve had for ages: after the choir room is set up and the night’s music has been practiced, I have a half-cup of yogurt, whatever fruit is handy, and some of our Really Good Granola sprinkled on top. It’s easy to fix, it’s light, and since there’s as much fruit as yogurt, the combination isn’t too gloppy on the vocal cords.
The thing is, although this has been my Thursday quick-supper for a long while, I can remember when I didn’t even know what yogurt was. And then I knew, but I hated it. (My first taste of yogurt was in the college cafeteria. I thought it was pudding. I nearly did a spit-take. I did not try it again for years.)
Apparently it was an acquired taste. I don’t remember when I acquired it, but I did. Along with lots of others.
Steel-cut oatmeal. (Hated oatmeal growing up.)
Fish tacos. (What on earth is a fish taco?)
Cheese (the kind that isn’t pre-sliced and covered in plastic).
Beets. Tomatoes. Coffee.
These things aren’t just acquired tastes, they’re positively comforting to me now. (Well, maybe coffee isn’t so much comforting as a requirement for consciousness some mornings. And afternoons. And the occasional evening.)
I wouldn’t combine them all in one meal, but if I had to plan a month’s worth of meals, they’d all be listed. Chicken fries might not make the short list, but if choir rehearsal runs a little long and there are leftovers when I get home, who knows?
Dinner at the Country House 