Gimme da beef, not da shicken!!!!

As I was surreptiously walking through the aisles of CNA at Cresta last night, I get a call from my Dad telling me we have been invited to dinner at Jimmy’s Prawns by Shawn’s family and that I had to cut my shopping experience short, race home and get ready. First thought, family outing – yay, we haven’t had one of those in ages. I was actually excited, who would have thought. Second thought – oh shit, its prawns, I don’t freaking eat freaking prawns!!!

Many would agree that I am a fussy person when it comes to food, and I have been forced to admit that I am. Even as a child, I would throw myself on the floor in a fit of rage if I didn’t get the food I specifically wanted. When I think back, I cant believe that I hated tomatoes and spinach (picture a tomato-less pizza – just dough and cheese. Yes, my poor mother was forced to do that for me). Something I still loathe and abhor, is chicken and seafood.

It’s actually funny how many people forget that I only eat beef (and it has to be well done. Dead actually. Don’t give me something that’s still alive cause I wont eat it). Just the other day, I was having lunch at the Baron with some work mates, and one of the “hot topics” of conversation over several bottles of red wine, was my particular distaste of chicken, and its origins. The very next day, while poking through the “delicacies” that were being offered by three people who were celebrating their birthdays, one of my colleagues, who was present at the lunch the day before, tried to offer me a prawn cake. I looked at him as if he was crazy, and he returned the look when I told him I don’t eat that stuff. Slowly, our previous conversation dawned on him. I swear, some people have the memory of a goldfish. Yes, I know its not common for someone to hate chicken and seafood, but please people, make this mental note stick: I ONLY EAT BEEF! Everything else is excluded (not only chicken and seafood – note, anything that comes from the SEA, don’t try give me oysters, caviar, or prawns, I WONT EAT IT – pork, lamb, kudu, ostrich, crocodile, cat, dog.). Funny enough, I eat ham and bacon. Weird – told you I was fussy.

So why all the fuss? Well, seafood is smelly. If my mother tries to cook that in our house, I try stay as far away as possible as the smell is bad enough to bring my last meal right back up. The other meats just give me the creeps for one reason or other. The chicken, however, has the best story.

Some of my earliest memories go as far back as when I was a tadpole. Joking. When I was two, living in the house my grandfather had built in Buenos Aires, Argentina, we had several chickens in a coop in our modest garden. Every morning I would go and feed them, and play with them. They were my very own “pet” chickens (now I think where my preference not to have pets comes from as well. Geez, my parents f*cked up my childhood).

One bleak and dreary morning (might have been sunny, but due to the following course of events, I am making it as horrible as possible), I go out to the garden to get up to my usual mischief and self-entertainment, when horror of horrors, I was faced with a bloody scene before my eyes. Standing by a table, with a big, bloody knife and mean look on her face, was my aunt (may she rest in peace), butchering one of my chickens for what would supposedly be our next lunch. I cant recall what happened next, just that scene stayed permanently glued to my brain, reminding me of that gruesome morning.

Needless to say, I never ate chicken after that. My mother tried to trick me several times by “sneaking” in the chicken in my food. Many times she succeeded, but eventually I outsmarted her every time and refused to eat until she made me something else. Ok, go ahead and say it – I am spoilt brat. To this day, I get something different to eat when she cooks chicken. I will not eat it.

Funny enough, I have seen one or two cows being slaughtered at one time or another, but these events happened at a much later stage when I was old enough to understand where our food came from. And I never had a pet cow called Clarabelle or Daisy. So it was all good. And no one can keep me away from a good old hamburger from McDs or Wimpy. Impossible.

I tried to go vegetarian once to be a bit healthier since unfortunately I had to pick the worst meat for my daily nutritional needs. That lasted about two months. I couldn’t resist the hamburgers, and steaks. And having pasta without bolognaise sauce was just not on.

So going back to our family outing last night, I was glad to see that the menu included some non-seafood delights like one of my favourites, rump steak. Well done, of course. Dead. Not alive. Accompanied by some awesome, crispy onion rings and chips, I was stuffed and satisfied, but not before I indulged in a Lindt chocolate mousse pancake. Weasel was convinced his name was written on the pancake with white chocolate, and after much irritation and persistence, he scored more than half of it since I could not devour any more of the chocolate richness. A small taste of it would have been enough.

The dinner was quite fun and enjoyable but I soon realised why we don’t go out as a family often – you cant take these people anywhere. For Christmas, I am getting Ferdi and Weasel one of those little old lamps you get to call the waiter. Then they can switch it on and off to their hearts content.

How about makin’ bacon? (that’s one for Ferdi)


Mooooooooooooo.