I forgot
Sun-dried tomatoes are the Devil's food.
(princess_buttercup, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:31, Reply)

Custard
I knew someone who not only refused to eat custard but had a phobia of the stuff. Not allergic -that would be too normal- just very fearful of it. We didnt believe her (who would for God's sake?) so we threw a tin of the glunk over her. Not an unopened tin, that would have been assault.

Chaos. I've never seen a sane, placid female go so monkey spankingly mental in the time it takes custard to hit the forehead and drip into the eyelashes. We all laughed for a few seconds until we realised that she wasnt hamming it up but that yes, indeed she was petrified of the stuff.
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:26, Reply)

I refuse to eat Krusty the clown
no i'm not a veggie, I just think he'd taste funny
(Handel blah blah blah, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:24, Reply)

I have refused to eat Tony Blair

ever since I found out that all it is is re-heated Margaret Thatcher.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:22, Reply)

In the 80s, me and my girlfriend
lived entirely on fruit, pills, and occasionally ghosts.

Signed, Pac-Man.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:13, Reply)

Frankspencer also invited me over for dinner one night
I was a little worried when he suggested I try his wife's melons and sticky date pudding, but when he mentioned his spotted dick i ran for the door


sorry.
(Handel blah blah blah, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:10, Reply)

Hardcore Prawn
After a 17 year foray into vegetarianism, I was finally seduced by a pork chop. I’ll now eat anything that isn’t nailed down. Apart from anything involving hot milk, because Andrea Wood sicked up a rice pudding on me in RE class when I was 7 and I still haven’t got over it.

However, there are two food things make me want to run away and cry. Sharing food and eating complicated food in public; I’m a bit fat-handed and it usually ends up looking like I’ve skinned a puppy at the table. And sharing? I’m an only child; the word isn’t in my vocabulary.

So imagine my delight when a boy asked me out for dinner. A date! That never happens! Oooh, yes please, I’d love to…

We went for tapas. “It’s okay, I’ll get over the sharing thing,” I thought, “I’ll just order extra. Problem solved.” And I did, it was fine, I coped admirably, brave little Rakky that I am. One of the dishes was those big shell-on prawns. “They’re a bit tricky,” I panicked, “and I’m not hugely keen on eating with my hands either. No matter, I’ll just have to get on with it.” So I picked up a prawn and was trying to work out to get into the little fucker, whilst trying to look coy and girly and coquettish (I’m aware, by the way, that there is nothing remotely sexy about trying to peel a prawn, but I was a bit piddly and let’s just add it to the long list of reasons that I’m still single, okay?). I finally managed to snap its head off and was duly sprayed in the face with the green sludge that had been its last prawny meal.

“That’s the first time I’ve been the recipient of a prawn money shot,” were the next words out of my mouth.

My date looked at me, horrified. The couple on the next table choked on their patatas bravas. I called for the bill. I've never been near the buisness end of a prawn since.

Length? Good god, even I wouldn’t sleep with me after that.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:10, Reply)

Anyone else
noticed the irony of clicking 'I Like This'?
(Corner-Cautious Gravy is the new Botox, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 14:00, Reply)

Bread
I have a mate who won't eat bread. Well, not bread per se, as rolls are OK, just bread of the planar variety. If we're at a gig, such as a wedding (we play in a band) and there's food on the go for the buffet, he'll not go near the sandwiches. The cakes get a fright though.

I, on the other hand, have very few food dislikes. Olives, cold rice pudding and that's pretty much it. It makes me retch though to have someone else sharing my food. Rachelswipe, I think we'd get on rather well! Especially the suck and swall...oh wait a minute, I'm digressing.

Drinks are another matter though. I can't stand even the smell of coffee, don't like tea, can't stand Coke or Pepsi, and not too keen on most beers and spirits. That leaves only a few soft drinks (Irn Bru and the like), milk (full fat only), water, good red wine (oh yes!) and a sometimes bit of whisky.

Just remembered - I never used to eat peas until I went to university. Then I stayed in full-board hall accommodation, and had to eat what I was given or starve. Or buy my own. So being a stingy (and at the time, overweight) bugger, I learned to eat pretty much anything.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:54, Reply)

denied
my ex wouldnt eat my nob.
even if i washed it.
or thrusted.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:51, Reply)

Peas
My boyfriend hates overcooked peas. I couldn't give a damn about how the pea is cooked (it tastes the bloody same) but for him they have to be boiled for less than four minutes.

This goes hand in hand with him wanting them with almost every dinner we eat. Rather frustrating as half the bloody time he complains that they're overcooked. Cook them himself? Far too rational. He also takes an irrational dislike to peas from certain shops- they can't be from ASDA, SPAR or the Co-op.

So, I don't know about anyone else here and the picky eaters they live with, but I derive great joy from putting 'overcooked' peas into as many things as I can sneak them into and sit there watching him eat them without a word of complaint.
(greenycrimson I stole the from pyschotherapist, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:51, Reply)

Bananas & Custard
Nothing wrong with either of these things individually. I'm rather partial to banana on my breakfast cereal, or custard on a nice steamed pudding.

But together? *BOKE*
(l4rd went back to his normal lurking on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:50, Reply)

Mmmm, cloudy apple juice
There is nothing I won't eat or drink. I have however came close to throwing up after downing a glass of mouldy, 3 month out of date, apple juice I discovered in my mate's fridge, after a night on the beers, while seeking a thirst quenching, hangover relieving, drink in the morning. Although, after you got used to the taste of mould it was ok........
(set_phasers_to_alkie, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:46, Reply)

The Pickiest Hobo
A long time ago, in a call centre far far away...

Back in my heyday I used to be a high-rolling, go-getting, world-is-my-oyster type of bloke, and as was befitting of a lad with my insatiable appetite for success, I had scaled the woozy heights of the corporate ladder and commanded a position in the “Contact Centre” of a household insurance company.

There isn’t space on the entire internet for me to fully vent spleen on the enduring fuckwittery of call centre employment, so I’ll stick to the point, which is that like every call centre on God’s green Earth, we were required to turn up in business attire in order to foster the illusion that we had real jobs, and yet were paid about a fifth as much as the bloke who cleaned the toilets after our allotted (and carefully monitored) 15 minutes of daily “bathroom time”.

‘Picky’ wasn’t an option. On good days, a plate of chips from the cafeteria would cost 50p. On really good days, and if they liked you, the lunch ladies would chuck a bit of gravy on there for free (never underestimate the maternal instincts of a forty-something dinner lady when faced with a starving and lost-looking 21-year-old boy in a cheap suit). On bad days, the coffee machine also dispensed powdered soup.

Only on pay day did we truly feel like kings, because we got to venture to the netherworld outside of the call centre, mix with the Outside Folk, and buy lunch at the McD*n*lds in the prefab 60’s mess of a shopping centre next door. It was also the only time of the month that the transient gentleman who slept in their doorway would bother to pester us for loose change. I suppose he figured (correctly) that any other week he’d be wasting his time because, despite the suits, his dog ate better than we did.

Then one month a miracle occurred. The stars aligned, and For A Limited Time Only, McD*n*lds were offering two B*g M*cs for the price of one. And lo, call centre staff from all the tribes of the Earth did rejoice, and great was their joy. For not only could we afford a meat-style, mostly non-toxic lunch for the first time in four weeks, but we got another one thrown in absolutely gratis.

Obviously the jubilation lasted about 24 hours. I mean, have you ever actually tried to eat two B*g M*cs? It’s impossible. Even the most impoverished phone gibbon can only really make it about half way through the second before realising just how fucking awful they are. Which leads me at long last to the point…

Upon approaching the aforementioned imitation-beef franchise, and upon being approached in turn by aforementioned gentleman of the road, I hit upon an idea. I'd politely refused his request for surplus coinage, partly because I didn’t have any, and partly because the concept of ‘spare money’ seemed so alien as to be faintly ludicrous, but instead I offered him my spare B*g M*c, which, to my stunned incredulity, he declined.

I have nothing but sympathy for the homeless, and if he’d said something along the lines of “Actually mate, I’ve had all the spare B*g M*cs I can comfortably handle in one day, and now I’m trying to scrape together a couple of quid to get me drunk enough to forget, just for a few hours, that I live under a flyover and keep all my worldly possessions in carrier bags”, I’d have perhaps understood. But no…

The reason my attempted charity was so unceremoniously snubbed? He fixed me with an expression that normal people reserve for Conservative politicians, and that, coincidentally, Conservative politicians usually reserve for the homeless, and sneered the immortal response:

“I’m a vegetarian”.

Jesus H. tap-dancing Christ , a vegetarian tramp. Fuck me, that’s picky.
(Monkey Tennis isn't Spartacus, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:45, Reply)

er... me.
Veg/ crunchy things
I can't eat them because of the texture makes me gag ( insert knob gobbler joke here )

Red food
I can't eat... it frightens me. I don't want to get it on my skin. Like tommy sauce, pizza, la sag nay..... Red....

Vinegar
If i put it on my chips that's fine, if i get some of it on my fingers from the chips... that's fine. If i get it on my hands directly from the bottle it makes me feel uneasy.

I'm 28 and if you ignore the list above I'm normal... Ish.
( Mrfishfinger .com, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:43, Reply)

I tried to eat the Kray Twins

but they were too tough.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:41, Reply)

Things I will not eat
I hate dark chocolate, and I hate coconut but I love dark Bountys.. It just works somehow.

I can't stand raw tomatoes (ick) but will eat them in any other way, fried especially. Num.

I have a big phobia of ginger, thanks to my sister force-feeding me crystalised ginger in the car when I was younger (it's good for travel sickness, apparently). So anything with ginger in is a big no no for me.

Also, blue cheese. It's mould people! And it has the most sickening smell. Even writing this makes me wretch. I think eating anything blue is wrong.

I'm also a vege so nothing with eyes or an arse for me, thank you. My boyf hates me being vege and I hate him eating meat so fair play, at least we don't have to worry about stealing food off the other's plate!

That's all I can think of... for now.
(princess_buttercup, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:41, Reply)

actually true story

there was a local newspaper where I lived, which had an advice column. Since this was the trendy inner city, the problems were often of a sexual nature, perhaps a bit similar to the online column 'Savage Love'.

Anyway, someone wrote in saying that their girlfriend was vegan, and had refused to swallow his manly essence on these grounds. He wanted to know if this was right.

There's no real punchline, it just makes me laugh thinking of the conversation

she: oh no, I...can't you see, because I'm vegan.
he: oh OK.

(later)

he: hang on...
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:36, Reply)

I feel like a freak
As there is nothing I've tried that I don't like :(

Won't try snake - too long!
(Biff..., Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:33, Reply)

Weaned on, Weaned off
Pa Grouch was an ice-cream man. This is possibly the best job a young kid can have - being dropped off at school in the van was kudos on toast.

But nowadays, it's all I can do to look at the bloody stuff. Two reasons; First, if you've spent every winter for the first 15 years of your life 'finishing off' the previous summers leftover stock, the fascination with the stuff wears off pretty bloody quick - especially when, by February, it's not so much ice-cream as ice with gone-off cream in a vaguely vanilla emulsion.

Secondly - and more importantly - I was once delving into a hold-over crate (think of the bastard offspring of a cool bag and a old-school travelling trunk) to serve up a creamy cone to a willing punter when my hand fastened on to a deep-frozen fieldmouse... I haven't touched a drop of the stuff since.

Still carried on serving til the end of the day, tho.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:33, Reply)

no-one likes the damned things!
Egg sandwiches.
Every buffet ever.
Always there at the end.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:32, Reply)

Food-based wrongness
When I was a youngster, i was an incredibly picky eater an could throw up at the drop of a hat. One such occasion was at a family dinner party, when I projectile vomitted all over the tablecloth, because I caught a whiff of a jacket potato. My dad managed to catch a good portion of it in his hand, but the overspill spoilt the table decoration somewhat. Mum was unimpressed, but I was only 4 and it probably gave them something to talk about.

I can eat jacket potatoes now, but only if i have cooked them - the same with chips, as if I get a hard one I will just vurp.

I have never been able to eat cold egg, I onced ralphed at a kids party as a child, as I saw someone eating a scotch egg. I would rather eat my own face than entertain the idea of an egg mayo sandwich even now. People tend to think that's pretty odd, but just the sight of someone tucking into a cold-egg based product gets the vom creeping up my oesophagus.

Thirdly I still cannot stand the jelly in porkpies, I wish someone would create a porkpie without the jelly, as it is just horrendous. I know it's there for a very good reason, but it makes my stomach churn just to think about it.

Finally, I would not eat sandwiches made by anyone except my mum until i was about 15, as I was really concerned about germs. I was a bit of an OCD freak and would actually be sick if anyone offered me a sandwich, incase it had got germs in it during the preparation process. I very rarely eat sandwiches now ans still love my mum's sandwiches the best of all.

Jesus I didn't realise I was such a weirdo, maybe I should get some help.

Apologies for the girth.
(madamebonsoir, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:28, Reply)

Response to Colonel Dracula
Quote "I wish pubs sold cups of tea. I LOVE tea"

I'm sorry- if you want TEA go to a TEA House (or admittadly a coffee shop)

If you go to the PUB order an alcoholic drink. I CANNOT stand gimmers who go to a pub and order a coffee. Its wrong and more than that REALLY irritating to the person behind the bar.
(audreyforbes audreyforbes, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:24, Reply)

condiments
CHIPS NEED SALT.
BY LAW.

that is all.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:21, Reply)

Coffee in the UK
Is disgusting. However, if you go to Italy the coffee is fantastic. So, hating shopping but looking for chestnut flour, I stumbled upon a Newsagent in Winchester run by an Italian. I was able to buy the flour to make Castagnaccio (google it). He made me a coffee protesting it was the best you could ever get in this country. I was overwhelmed. Sold. At £36 a kilo I bought half a kilo, then bought a new espresso machine off Ebay, and he advised how to keep the beans fresh, always use mineral water, and never drink cappucino in the afternoons.

If you ever try it you will never go to another coffee shop ever again. Apart from in Italy that is.

I'm also a very picky eater, bit like choosing men....
( Tiggy the diver, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:13, Reply)

hot things and cold things
I cant eat things that were supposed to be hot, cold. no way. i cant do it. cold pizza looks like some kind of floor error (cos cold pizza is always on the floor, fact!). cold chips just feel like lumps of lard with fatman sweat dried on for flavour and women (like ladyfriend, mom AND sister) who eat cold potato/pasta salads make me feel so ill i want to hurt them in the face to make the horror pass.

and who here has done the: lets gulp the last of this tea before it goes cold, oh look, i have a mouthful of ice cold tea, i've misjudged this somewhat, belly seems to not want this, what to do what to do, and release.

Ladyfriend seems to not like cold tea on her face as much as i dont like it in my mouth.

that last applies to other things as well. oo-er
(hatofjam built a friend out of lego on, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:12, Reply)

Tomato Soup
Can't eat tomato soup it gives me a massive sore throat for days.

I can however eat all other types of tomato- anything, tinned, fresh, cooked, raw. anything.

Dull story, but true.
(audreyforbes audreyforbes, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:12, Reply)

My Gf is a veggie...
...but the worst veggie ever.

She refuses to eat anything with a white sauce, this includes cheese sauce or creamy white wine sauce or anything like that, retches at the taste of coriander, doesn't eat quite a few vegetables (aubergines for example), and is generally a bit odd, she doesnt just not like these, they make her want to puke.

This makes going out for dinner somthing of a chore, we go up to a restaurant, look at the menu, I will eat anything, she wont have any of the veggie dishes cos either they are Italian pasta style with a creamy sauce, or are curries with coriander. By the time we find a restaurant, my stomach is normally eating itself.

As for her sister, also a veggie, formally a vegan, she doesnt eat salad. What a rubbish person.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:10, Reply)