My mother is evil.
But on two occasions, it's been entirely deserved.

The first time she sabotaged food, it was my brother's: he was only about 6 years old, and had just finished reading "Green Eggs and Ham" by Dr Seuss. He was obsessed. He would demand green eggs and ham for every meal, throwing tantrums when it wasn't presented to him, and generally getting up my mother's nose.

So one day, she used a bottle of green food dye and served my brother with a plateful of bright green ham, and two bright green fried eggs. Apparently he took one look at them, screamed his head off, and never demanded them again. 1-0 to mother.


The second time, I was the victim. Again, I was quite young (7 or 8 methinks), and being a complete brat about food. Aubergines and sprouts were "yukky", I'd refuse to look a tomato in the eye, and I was convinced that lettuce was a weapon of an evil child-killer. A shame, then, that my mother's favorite food was ratatouille...

Again, she was sick and tired of me being a picky eater, so thought that if she could make food interesting a daring for me, then I'd be more likely to eat it. She was very nearly right, but just went that little bit too far to make it look "authentic".

You see, she'd told me ratatouille was made out of real rats, and was utterly delicious. Unbeknownst to her (but knownst to me) this scared me. A lot. But I couldn't let her know that. If she'd been aware of just how terrifying I found the idea of rat stew, she might not have gone ahead with the rest of the plan:
She lovingly ladelled me a bowl of the stuff, then carefully cut up some brown rubber bands and arranged them so they were dangling over the lip of the bowl. She then called me into supper, and said: "here you are darling, ratatouille made from real rats, just like I promised! And I've even left the tails in!"

I took one look at this foul concoction, clocked the "tails", and promptly vomited all over the cream carpet. Oops. Mind you, I was never as picky about food again, so I guess that ended up as 1-1 to both of us...
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Mon 22 Sep 2008, 16:50, 2 replies)

Rats
My grandparents were getting to the level of decrepitute where we'd occasionally bung a meal their way. Ratatouille was a novelty to them, as was the pronumciation thereof. We settled for "Rats and mice".

Mind you: my uncle used to refer to bosrcht as "motorway pileup".
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 22 Sep 2008, 17:31, closed)

your mom....
must have been watching 'Absolutely' - there was a sketch me and my sister used to know word for word - something along the lines of (you have to put on a dodgy welsh accent, and have awful fake teeth) Ahhhh Gwyneth, what are this!?? Oooooh Denzil it are Ratatouille!! With Real Rats in it!! (all the sibilants have to be lisped to make it authentic)
If its any consolation, my mom was as bad...if not worse :-/
( curvylittlegoth heard the voices in your head on, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 22:40, closed)