5 things Paul won't eat
Aug. 29th, 2006 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maygra, 5 things Paul Callan won't eat in a restaurant (from Miracles).
(There's no way I can do these in order, so please bear with me as inspiration strikes.)
1. Black pudding. There's a great little Irish bar down the street from the diocese, a real one run by a real expat Irish family, not one of the fake ones that people buy a license to own. They serve breakfast every day except Sunday. He didn't know what black pudding was the first time he ordered the full Irish breakfast, but he learned real fast to stay away from it. Why would anyone want to eat sausage made from blood? Just thinking about it makes him shudder with far too many bad memories. Blood shouldn't be a food except for vampires, and they don't really exist. At least, he hasn't found a real one so far.
2. Anything with the word "mom's" on it. It's not something he'd share with anyone except Poppi, and even then, he has never mentioned it. Or maybe the subject just hasn't come up. But there's something sharp and a little painful when you see that on a restaurant menu, a tiny pricking reminder that you never really had a mom to compare the cooking to. What would his mom's recipe for apple pie have been like? Or how would she have made a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup incomparable? Whoever's recipe for "Mom's apple pie" it is, he only knows it wasn't his own mother's.
3. Anything with apricots: jam, tart, pastry, you name it. Peaches, too. Smell of preservative in the grave, smell of arsenic in the breath. They say it's peach pits, that smell, but both apricot and peach pits smell the same to him -- heavy, too sweet, musky, and rotten to the core.
4. He never really understood what the fuss was about chocolate. It doesn't really taste that special to him, so he's never ordered a chocolate shake at the diner, or the chocolate cream pie Evvie likes so much. Alva thinks he has some kind of serotonin deficiency, that his levels aren't lifted by chocolate the way others' are, but he just doesn't really like the taste. Paul would choose caramel any day.
5. Guacamole. It's a texture thing, he tried to explain to Alva and Evvie the time she brought back a giant pile of nachos from the diner. She just raised a Spock-like eyebrow at him, and Alva almost chuckled. "You keep unfolding mysteries like a flower," was all he'd said.
maygra, 5 things Paul Callan won't eat in a restaurant (from Miracles).(There's no way I can do these in order, so please bear with me as inspiration strikes.)
1. Black pudding. There's a great little Irish bar down the street from the diocese, a real one run by a real expat Irish family, not one of the fake ones that people buy a license to own. They serve breakfast every day except Sunday. He didn't know what black pudding was the first time he ordered the full Irish breakfast, but he learned real fast to stay away from it. Why would anyone want to eat sausage made from blood? Just thinking about it makes him shudder with far too many bad memories. Blood shouldn't be a food except for vampires, and they don't really exist. At least, he hasn't found a real one so far.
2. Anything with the word "mom's" on it. It's not something he'd share with anyone except Poppi, and even then, he has never mentioned it. Or maybe the subject just hasn't come up. But there's something sharp and a little painful when you see that on a restaurant menu, a tiny pricking reminder that you never really had a mom to compare the cooking to. What would his mom's recipe for apple pie have been like? Or how would she have made a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup incomparable? Whoever's recipe for "Mom's apple pie" it is, he only knows it wasn't his own mother's.
3. Anything with apricots: jam, tart, pastry, you name it. Peaches, too. Smell of preservative in the grave, smell of arsenic in the breath. They say it's peach pits, that smell, but both apricot and peach pits smell the same to him -- heavy, too sweet, musky, and rotten to the core.
4. He never really understood what the fuss was about chocolate. It doesn't really taste that special to him, so he's never ordered a chocolate shake at the diner, or the chocolate cream pie Evvie likes so much. Alva thinks he has some kind of serotonin deficiency, that his levels aren't lifted by chocolate the way others' are, but he just doesn't really like the taste. Paul would choose caramel any day.
5. Guacamole. It's a texture thing, he tried to explain to Alva and Evvie the time she brought back a giant pile of nachos from the diner. She just raised a Spock-like eyebrow at him, and Alva almost chuckled. "You keep unfolding mysteries like a flower," was all he'd said.
