“You are NOT going to eat that. TELL ME you’re not going to eat that.”
“WHAT? They’re good! They’re good for you.”
Jay rolls his eyes.
CJ leans over the counter and peers into the tiny tin. Six anchovies are carefully rolled around six capers, nestled in a thick layer of oil.
“I read somewhere that anchovies are good for you. High in Omega 3′s.” I pause, “They can’t be that bad. YOU try one.”
Jay shudders. “I am NOT trying one.”
The truth is, I’m not sure what I was thinking. I was in a high-end grocery store, and the packaging called out to me. “I’m European!” it whispered, “very high end.” Next thing I know, I’ve added it to my cart.
Which brings me to this moment.
I get out a cracker and carefully use my fork to pluck out a tiny oily fish. Inside I feel uncertain. But I’m committed. Under a pretense of bravery, I lift the cracker to my mouth, wrinkling my nose at the briney odor.
CJ watches with wide eyes. I put the whole thing in my mouth and chew.
No sense going halfway…
“Mmmmmm,” I say, “Salty.”
Jay laughs nervously.
And then it hits me… the aftertaste. Sordidly fishy without a hint of goodness. Sour and rancid.
I gag. “Quick! Give me something else to eat! Anything!”
CJ fills a cup with water and hands it to me, giggling. I quaff it back.
“I don’t understand what you were thinking,” Jay says, “It’s basically a half-rotted fish.”
“It’s my HERITAGE,” I wail, “I’m Norwegian! We’re supposed to LIKE half-rotted fish. You know… lutafisk, herring, sardines…”
“But these are ANCHOVIES.” Jay informs me.
So they are.
And they are disgusting.
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December 14, 2011 at 11:29 pm
Sardines I used to eat. Anchovies… those are bait! And yes, I’m Scandinavian too and I won’t touch lutefisk! ;)