Artichoke on it

Mark is a very good cook, so don't let this little diatribe give you any reason to doubt that. It's just that there are some things, no matter how they are presented to me, that I don't like.

The other night I sat down to dinner. On my plate was a chicken breast. It was smothered in a light wine and cream sauce with mushrooms and spinach. Also on my plate was a nice mound of Mark's mashed potatoes. I love his mashed potatoes. Anyway, I cut into the chicken breast and took a bite. It was delicious. Sitting on top of the chicken in all that sauce, was what looked like another bit of the breast that had come loose. I speared it with my fork and shoved it into my mouth. My mouth didn't like it.

"What are these?" I asked while holding another similar morsel on the end of my fork.

"Artichoke hearts."

Why, why ruin a delicious meal by throwing one of those things in there? But that's not what I told Mark. I smiled and rearranged my dinner plate, hiding all the artichoke under bits of spinach and sauce. I don't like artichoke, and I cannot understand the seeming cult of artichoke lovers. On more than one occasion I have been out to dinner with people who get all misty eyed when they see artichoke on the menu. I've seen people sitting around and sucking on those little artichoke leaf things and enjoying it. I don't get it. I find that It has a somewhat metallic flavor and adds nothing to a meal. Anyway, I managed to not eat anymore of the artichoke bits that Mark had put on my plate that evening, but it still bothered me knowing that they were there.

Another thing that I have no love for are string beans. I find them disgusting. It may have something to do with my mom serving us those nasty, canned green beans when we were kids, but I never developed a taste for them. Despite my informing Mark just how much I hate them, they still turn up on my plate at least once a week. Which demonstrates just how good a cook Mark really is, because I don't try to hide them. I cut them up and eat them. I don't like them, but Mark has found ways to dress those nasty little things up so that I will eat them. There is one vegetable that no matter how Mark has tried to disguise it, that I will not eat. It has nothing to do with the flavor, because I have never detected a flavor. It's okra. Okra makes me want to vomit. Not because it tastes bad, but because it actually mimics the texture of vomit and I will not put vomit in my mouth... at least not willingly.