I do not like curry.
To me, it tastes like the inside of a childhood friend’s house. No, they weren’t Indian. Rather, they were some kind of new agey white folks. There were some definite hippie tendencies there. It was the 80’s, so it was neither the original hippie movement nor was it the current hippie movement, it was a netherworld of hippiedom. It was the time of excess, and this was a simple home that smelled of curry. I didn’t really enjoy going to this house because of its underlying odor, and the fact that they only served “healthy” snacks like apples. As a child who grew up on pop and Doritos, I didn’t understand why they didn’t have an entire cupboard dedicated to my heroine, Little Debbie. I think one time, they had oatmeal raisin cookies, but of course it was comprised of grains and seeds and honey and was barely sticking together. I feel like they were gluten-free before anyone knew what gluten was.
Aside from tasting like a natural foods store, I don’t care for the color. The yellow tricks my brain into thinking it should taste like mustard. I can only handle one yellow condiment/sauce in my repertoire. And I don’t really care for mustard, either, just for the record. An inventory of the weird things I like and do not like food-wise will certainly be a future topic.
I have nothing against Indian food, which I know is typically curried up. It’s just that I haven’t found anything that I like, other than those pastry things that have potato inside? Except when they have curry in them.
The reason that I bring this whole curry thing up is this: I was just tricked into eating curry again. I went down to grab lunch and there was a “curried chicken salad” on the menu. I looked in the case and saw what I assumed to be regular chicken salad, all mayo’ed up with bits of celery sprinkled throughout. Boom. Sign me up for that. However, I was looking at tuna salad – that’s a big bait and switch right there, and it happens to me more often than I’d like to admit – and the curried stuff was back behind the scenes. By the time I realized, it was too late, and there were two choices at that point. Go back and see if I could give back the yellow nasty stuff, or woman up and eat it.
I went for the woman up option. And bleh. My opinion remains the same. It has probably been about ten years since I last tried it, which I believe was at a wedding where they served only Indian food (and this was not an Indian wedding. Hard to explain, just accept it and move on). I was a sport and went with it, because I was starving and there were no other options unless I wanted to eat pita all night. However, I believe that I am old enough now that I don’t need to try things just to expand my horizons. I’m quite content with where my horizons are, thank you very much.
Now I have the unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth, which I am currently trying to obliterate by eating a bag of Cheetos.
So, no, curry is not for me. Not in this decade, and probably not in the next decade.