The Plight Of The Picky Eater On A Diet

The insides of a broccoli quesadilla. Turns out the tortillas were the best part.

I’ve always been a picky eater. When I was a kid I didn’t like most foods. It didn’t help that I was raised vegetarian, because that cut out several huge categories right at the beginning.

I was scared of new foods and instead preferred to eat what I knew and loved. Why risk it? Any pressure put on me by adults to try new foods made me retreat into my favorites even deeper.

I didn’t try blueberries until I was in college. I didn’t try avocados until I was twenty-five-years old. Twenty-five! Think of all the wonderful avocados I missed out on eating. Think of the guacamole! So I did eventually let new foods into my life. Wheat bread and brown rice are a delight, and it took me almost thirty years to appreciate them.

I loved my honeymoon cruise because the cruise ship waiters didn’t blink if I took one taste of something and asked for something else instead. I tried more new foods on that trip than at any other time in my life.

But I still hate a whole lot of common foods and food combinations, especially foods that are typical vegetarian staples. And I don’t like most Asian foods. I just don’t like the flavors. (A few Indian foods are the big exceptions.) You don’t ever want me to pick the restaurant. We will end up at the safest place I can find, probably Italian or Mexican. Or a diner. Because I could live on grilled cheese.

Still, going out to most restaurants or to someone’s house to eat isn’t usually a problem, because I love side dishes. I’ve had some of the best meals of my life in steakhouses with my husband, because they have the best sides: Awesome potatoes, piles of blue cheese dressing and iceberg lettuce masquerading as salad, lots of things with cheese and cream.

Food is generally a joy and I try not to ask anyone to make anything special for me, ever (although I’m usually not shy about professing my hatred for mushrooms, because otherwise that is what vegetarians are served EVERY TIME).

But nothing has made me feel like a bigger pain in the ass than this six-week low-carb experiment.

Every time I complain about being totally bored and blah with the food I’m eating, very well-meaning friends come forward with suggestions, and I have to shoot pretty much every one down. Tofu? Hate it. Mushrooms? They taste like dirt. Beets? They taste like red dirt. Nuts? Love a handful of them, hate them in food. Kale? Fine in an occasional salad, but don’t try to sell it to me as “chips” or a smoothie or anything else. Ick.

And the rest of the suggestions, while being perfectly tasty and healthy, have too many carbs for this experiment (chickpeas, lentils, sweet potatoes, butternut squash).

So many people have suggested shirataki noodles that I can no longer ignore them, even though they sound like something I would absolutely hate (an indigestible husk with a slippery texture – yumm!). I have some coming from Fresh Direct, though, because you never know. I will try to taste them with an open mind. [Oops, I just realized that the ones from Fresh Direct are the tofu kind. I already know that I hate tofu, so I cancelled that one and ordered the more traditional ones from Amazon. Two packs of angel hair, two rice, and two fettuccine are coming, so I hope I like them.]

I know these foods are out there. I’m not eating them because I don’t like them. And it’s making me feel pickier than ever. I mean, frankly, it’s making me feel like a jerk. But I can’t help it. I like what I like, and just about all of it is carbs.