We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Growing up in California, I ate lots of Mexican food. I always had a thing for salsa.
Then I moved to Florida.
The first week here, me and a buddy went to a Mexican restaurant. I grabbed a chip and dunked it in the salsa.
"Yuck! What's IN this shit?"
Because of the Caribbean influence, the stuff's everywhere. It was also about the last time I ate in a Mexican restaurant. So chalk me up as a cilantrophobe -- as the article would have me be labeled.
"Some people may be genetically predisposed to dislike cilantro, according to often-cited studies by Charles J. Wysocki of the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. But cilantrophobe genetics remain little known and arenít under systematic investigation."
Bwah-hah! So, along with the "fat gene", "smoker's gene", "fear gene", "divorce gene", "bad parking gene" and all the rest, apparently there's also a "cilantrophobe gene".
Doc, I think this might be an example of "epigenetics," a term we touched on many months ago. Anyway, I know what you mean...and it's only made worse by cooks who believe more is better, then load the same spices and herbs into every dish.
HA! Finally! I married into a family of cilantroholics... they put it in, on and under everything. I've always complained that it tasted like soap, and then they started asking how it was no one stood up at the wedding and shouted "Stop!" instead of forever holding their peace. I think I will print this out and put it in my wallet for the next dinner at the in-laws.