The Beautiful Kind

Twice in the past month I’ve dined out with grown men who have stunned me by ordering chicken fingers. I managed to keep from busting a gut, but I swear the next time it happens I’m going to scream at them to grow the fuck up and eat eggplants and mushrooms already. What’s with these underdeveloped palates?

Fine, you can have your stupid pizza, but can’t you give the poor chickens a break? All the wimps eat chicken, which is the equivalent to vanilla sex. BOORING. (And oh my god, do you know what the other staple is for these immature souls? No, not catsup. RANCH DRESSING. And maybe Big Macs.)

Food writer Jeffrey Steingarten wrote in his book The Man Who Ate Everything about how he overcame his picky eating habits upon accepting a food critic gig. He says that if you eat something about a dozen times, you eventually acquire a taste for it. So quit embarrassing yourself and branch out already. I have some matar paneer and blackened tempeh ready to shove down your throat.