Oh. My. God. Y’ALL.
I am not an evil person (shut it) but I swear, if I ever see a pancake again I…I…I just don’t know WHAT I’ll do, but it’ll be graphic, painful and probably not within the confines of the Geneva Convention.
Last night, in the period of 90 minutes, I served 185 plates of pancakes.
Yeah.
Lemme tell you something about your pal Plummy. She may be front-of-the-house pretty, but she’s back-of-the-house mean, and if it hadn’t been for the outrageously filthy things the sous chef had been whispering in my ear with regard to the proper application of the bananas foster sauce (hint: not on pancakes, also probably illegal) SOMEONE would have gotten whacked with a ladle full of boiling hot wild blueberry compote.
Oh man, SPEAKING of ladles –and this has nothing to do with anything, except it’s my only ladel-related story and it’s awesome— a few years ago I was at a birthday party for a friend who worked in the newspaper industry. Now, newspapermen are a hard-drinking crew, and at one point I was doing shots of cachaça out of a ladle with a supremely good-looking Pulitzer-prize nominated critic whom I accidentally punched for calling me a pterodactyl. Of course in the cool light of day I came to discover he called me a polydidact which is a lot nicer and makes a lot more sense because he is a) a big fan of mine b) not generally in the habit of comparing girls to winged dinosaurs. Anyway, I called the hostess the next morning to thank her profusely and related the story and she paused for a second and said “um, Plummy, I don’t OWN a ladle.”
True story.
ANYHOODLE
In honor of my newfound hatred of pancakes I give you today’s Big Question:
Today Miss Plumcake wants to know: what food will you never, ever, evereverever EVER eat again? Gimme some backstory here. Bonus points if it involves ladles.
My best travel story led to the birth of the phrase “Russian strip club drunk” and is the reason I will never, ever have Red Bull again, and especially not mixed with vodka. But I suppose I should have known better from the start, really…
Comment by Sarah — February 25, 2009 @ 3:55 pm
It’s not one food, it’s a combination that will never ever cross my lips again: raw oysters and Hurricanes. I’ll do either of them separately, but never ever *ever* together again. Ever.
Not a lot of backstory to it: Mardi Gras. New Orleans. French Quarter. Oysters. Hurricanes.
I wanted to die just so the sick would stop.
Comment by rabrab — February 25, 2009 @ 4:14 pm
I’ve got two, cotton candy and Long Island ice teas.
Two different stories, one involves a tilt-a-whirl, the other an empty stomach and 2-for-1 happy hour special, but they have the same awful ending.
Do you know how many little girl products smell like cotton candy? YUCK!
Comment by Julie — February 25, 2009 @ 7:24 pm
dixie Cafe.
After biting into our spoiled meat hamburgers,sipping on our dirty ice cube filled cokes, and our lukewarm food,we decided not to go to dixies anymore.
although they did have goooood rolls.very good rolls
Comment by jessie — February 25, 2009 @ 8:17 pm
Oh Plumcake, how I wish I had a story that involved a ladle! Alas, all my stories involving ladles basically boil down to ‘I made a yummy soup/stew and served it up with a ladle’, which clearly isn’t the same as a story about why I will never eat X foodstuff again.
OTOH, I do have a story. (vegetarians and those grossed out by offal may want to avert their eyes now) When I was a small child, my mother often served up tripe for dinner. Not in small pieces in a soup or a stew or as part of a composed dish, but big hunks of just plain tripe. I hated the smell, I hated the taste, but more than anything in the world the texture made me gag. I just could not (pardon the pun) stomach it.
I was six when I finally mutineed. I pushed my plate away, crossed my arms, frowned my frowniest frown and announced that no power on earth could force me to consume that horrible bad thing ever again. One of my brothers informed me that the only reason I didn’t like it was because of where it came from. Not having any clue where that might have been, I asked him where it did come from. Once I heard, I redoubled my determination not to eat it.
Amusingly enough, I had no problem with other offal meats. In fact I adored my mother’s beef heart stew, because it was tasty and savory and not a disgusting texture. I was delighted last year when some friends who had bought a 4-H pig gave me the kidneys because it meant I could try my hand at steak and kidney pie. I firmly believe that part of being a responsible omnivore involves not wasting large amounts of the animals my diet includes.
But to this day, no power on earth has convinced me to eat tripe again.
Comment by Twistie — February 25, 2009 @ 8:43 pm
Plummy,
the ladle story was great.
In college we ate at Ryan’s, a buffet restaurant a little to often. Since then (12 years ago) I’ve only been able to eat at a buffet place once due to the bizarre array of foods one can choose from. Really, fried chicken, nachos, spaghetti, corndogs, chicken pot pie, and roast beef all on the same plate — I’d seen it too many times. And why was it always someone’s birthday at that place?
Comment by Kerry — February 25, 2009 @ 8:49 pm
Twistie, I have had tripe only once. It was during Peace Corps training in Chile and the food was usually pretty bad (Chile is not known for its cuisine, which is sad, because the raw ingredients are fabulous, as I discovered once I started doing my own cooking, but Chileans are lousy cooks), but the tripe was especially awful (ha!). I didn’t even know what it was. I just knew it was inedible — chewy, nasty, and rubber-band like. I couldn’t stomach it. (Ha again!)
It was so bad that I learned all the ways to say it in Spanish so I could avoid it as I traveled through the rest of South America when I finished my two years: guatitas, tripas, mondongo, and menudo. I have never willingly and knowingly eaten it since.
Comment by class factotum — February 25, 2009 @ 8:57 pm
sweetbreads. when i was living in brussels and au pairing for a swedish family, they had me serving at their frequent dinner parties. i usually got to eat the courses after they were served in the kitchen. one time i was serving these little appetizers, something in a creamy sherry sauce in vol au vents. in the kitchen, i tried one. the sauce was delicious as was the pastry, but when i tried to chew the stringy looseish stuff in the sauce, the gag reflex activated and i just made it to the ladies room in time.(i have a horror of loose, jellyish foods like egg whites). no more glands for me!
Comment by nosestuckinabook — February 25, 2009 @ 9:05 pm
I don’t have a story right now, (well, actually. The elephant ears at a local bakery in Arlington. Not because of *them* but because I ate one w/a cup of tea before an interview. Thought I had butterflies in my stomach from nerves, turns out I had a week long stomach bug. I lost 10 pounds in about 36 hours, and only made it out of the interview by about 30 seconds before losing about 5 of those pounds. It’s just the association with the interview. I did get the job though, oddly enough…), but Plumcake, I think I’d like to live at least one day in your life. Seriously. Do you need a side-kick? A law-student side-kick? I’m more awesome than that sounds! I’ll re-locate to Texas!
Comment by Genevieve — February 25, 2009 @ 9:49 pm
There’s a lot of these for me.
French fries, because they were the last thing I ate before my car accident and I (this is gross, I apologize) ended up threw them up while strapped to a board getting head to toe x-rays (throwing up is common when you’re in shock). When you’re lying on your back strapped to a board, throwing up is NOT enjoyable. I don’t think I need to explain the mechanics of that… If I even smell french fries now, I feel queasy.
Watermelon and tomatoes, because of all the food poisoning alerts about them over the past few years. Have I actually GOTTEN food poisoning from either of these? No… but I still can’t eat them.
Goldschlager, because it’s the only liquor that has ever, and I mean ever, given me a hangover.
Sadly, there were no ladles involved in the making of these cephalic responses.
Comment by Oskiette — February 25, 2009 @ 10:45 pm
I couldn’t drink beer for a few years after I spent a night drinking pitchers with the forest firefighters I worked with that summer (I wasn’t a firefighter, just worked the supply side of things) and our helicopter pilot. My glass was never empty, and I think my hangover lasted two days.
Unfortunately, when I felt ready to drink beer again, I had to stop consuming gluten. FAIL. But a big ole win for Green’s, because they have managed to get me to pay $8 for a gluten free beer. It’s a giant bottle, but still, ouch.
Comment by Abbey — February 25, 2009 @ 10:47 pm
Cranberries…. cranberry juice, cranberry sauce, cranberry muffins, anything cranberry makes me seriously nauseous. This goes back to when I was in highschool and got a RAGING UTI omg it hurt so bad!! I didn’t want to go to the doctor even back then I hated the visits cause it would ALWAYS end in a huge lecture about my weight. Honestly I got harassed enough about that at school I didn’t need it from professionals so I would avoid them until it was a HUGE deal. So I researched and heard that cranberry juice was good for UTI’s and so I scraped together enough money (I didn’t want to tell my parents cause I knew they would make me go to the doctors) I went and bought a four 2 liter bottles of 100% cranberry juice figuring it would be the most potent and forced myself to chug them. It made me soooooo sick and didn’t cure the UTI so I ended up having to go to the doctor and sitting through another lecture about my awful fat whilst my urinary tract tortured me and I bit my lip to keep from crying and screaming in pain. If I even think about something cranberry or cranberry laced I still get super sick and have bad memories. I can handle anything else… just not those nasty little red berries
Comment by Scattered Marbles — February 26, 2009 @ 1:52 am
Uuuuh! Love that pic of the pancakes! ahhhh. Now I want some!
Comment by Sabb — February 26, 2009 @ 5:10 am
I don’t have any good stories, nor can I think of any foods that I will never eat again. (I’m pregnant, so all bets are off when it comes to my appetite.)
However, I would DEARLY love to know what that delightful sous-chef was whispering!
Comment by La Petite Acadienne — February 26, 2009 @ 8:47 am
My first trip to Paris: Lunch at the Cafe du Marche; confit de canard – yummy when eating; god-awful coming up 3 hours later in the middle of a bus tour of the city. I held on until a photo stop; ralphed in the nearest waste can and then told the guide I was ill and walked back to my hotel. Yes, I have thrown up in a trash can under the Eiffel Tower. This was my second experience with duck and both times it came back up (didn’t make the connection the first time). I am in a permanent no-duck zone.
Comment by Eva — February 26, 2009 @ 9:55 am
Raw hot dogs and Peanut Butter Twix. Hear me out.
I was about 8 years old and one day this is what I was craving to eat. So being like any other normal kid, I gave into my craving. Hours later, I was throwing up in front of tons of Girl Scouts at the local mall, where a giant sleep-in was being held. My mom had to come get me, and I spent the entire car ride home throwing up on a bag in the backseat. I was violently ill for two days and I felt like I was on a nevernending roller coaster ride. It turns out that I had a terrible gastrointestinal virus, but I always blamed the hot dogs and PB Twix. From that day on, I never ate any more of those candy bars, and as for hot dogs, if they’re not grilled, I don’t touch them.
Comment by Bree — February 26, 2009 @ 10:06 am
Eva says: “Yes, I have thrown up in a trash can under the Eiffel Tower.”
My brother threw up *on* the Eiffel Tower. He was five and I was four, and I will never forget the sight of him doubled over and puking on the floor of the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t anything he ate, though; he just never was good with heights.
I can’t really think of any good food stories or foods I’ll never eat again, aside from meat since I’ve been a vegetarian for some time now. Like Oskiette, though, I won’t touch Goldschlager. Even the tiniest little bit makes me throw up something fierce.
Comment by Cat — February 26, 2009 @ 12:12 pm
Mincemeat pie. My ex-husband’s Grandmoter made it, and I just didn’t have the heart to tell her I can’t stand it. So I forced myself to eat a whole piece. And then we went fishing and I got seasick. Suffice to say, it was ugly.
Comment by Elaine — February 26, 2009 @ 12:35 pm
La Petite Acadienne wrote “However, I would DEARLY love to know what that delightful sous-chef was whispering!”
Oh even I couldn’t repeat that filth!
Comment by Plumcake — February 26, 2009 @ 12:53 pm
Damn, Plummy! That must have been QUITE the filth!
Then again, I can now let my imagination run riot…and fully intend to let it do so.
OH MY! That sous chef was a naughty boy, wasn’t he?
Comment by Twistie — February 26, 2009 @ 1:05 pm
Popcorn. Not that I ever liked it all that much to start with, the smell of artificial butter grosses me out.
When I was about 17 I had my wisdom teeth removed surgically. They had not yet pushed through, and so the went in through the inside of my cheeks to get them. This left behind little pockets between my cheek and my jawbone. They gave me a little syringe to squirt water in there after meals so that food wouldn’t stay in there and slow the healing process. Well I made the mistake of having popcorn and the little hulls were a nightmare to get out of those little pockets. There was bleeding and cursing involved, and needless to say, popcorn has never again passed my lips.
Comment by mini_pixie — February 26, 2009 @ 1:31 pm
Tequila. Ever since that dancing-on-the-table-in-the-bar-wearing-only-a-bikini episode in Mazatlan. Worse yet, my ex-husband has video.
Comment by Kai Jones — February 26, 2009 @ 2:10 pm
The second half of the can of demon soup I ate at dinner last night that took me down like a Shetland pony trying for high fence. Ooooooooh, lordy, that was an unpleasant evening. I thought canned food was safe — it wasn’t even bulgy!!
Comment by Style Spy — February 26, 2009 @ 5:31 pm
Store-bought cinnamon rolls and chai tea, especially together. That was the last thing I ate before I came down with a nasty stomach bug (like Genevieve, I lost ten pounds and couldn’t eat solid food for five days). To further the nastiness, I came down with the bug in the middle of one of my first-ever real dates. I threw up in a planter in the parking lot, and when my date came over to try to comfort me, I vomited on his shoes. He was very kind and understanding, even when he came down with the bug the next day, and he did ask me out a couple of times after that, but I never quite got over my embarrassment at having puked on his footwear.
So, unfortunately, Cinnabon in the mall or airport smells to me like illness and humiliation. Fortunately, seven years after the incident, I can actually eat homemade cinnamon rolls and the Pillsbury kind that come in the cardboard tube, just not Cinnabon or the kind they sell at coffee shops.
Comment by JaneC — February 26, 2009 @ 7:21 pm
I had an experience like Style Spy’s just last week. Unfortunately, it took me out for a day and a half, the day and a half during which the biggest blogging event of the year in Canada occurred. I hear it was fun; it’s the first time I missed it in five years.
I can’t handle the smell of North American Pad Thai, though. I first encountered it when I was on chemo and the smell of it to this day can make my skin crawl. Homestyle, real Thai Pad Thai I have absolutely no problem with, however. That orangey North American stuff, however, just turns my stomach like nothing else.
Comment by raincoaster — February 26, 2009 @ 11:28 pm
As a kid, we always has Entenmann’s Devli’s Food Cake donuts in the house for the weekend. Once, I ate my usual two for breakfast, watched cartoons and felt fine. But later, I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening revisiting those donuts from *ahem* both ends. Never again.
For my 21st birthday, my friends thought it would be fun to throw a huge house party in my honor, where I had to take an Absolut Citron lemon drop shot with every new group of people the walked in the door. And, oh yeah, I had to sign my name each time I drank. Needless to say, everyone came right around the same time, so I consumed a TON of alcohol in a very short period of time. I was sick for a full 12 hours the next day. I can now smell that sh*t a mile away.
Comment by JayKay — February 27, 2009 @ 10:15 pm
Anything that involves a combination of mint and chocolate. Firstly, mint is good only for toothpaste. Mint gum, mint jelly and !!BLECH!! chocolate chip mint icecream.
Gives me the willies just even thinking about it.
Chalk it up to a huuuge box of chocolate covered minty-fillingy thingies received on Valentine’s day when I was 16; accompanied by a late night Friday movie watching binge.
Comment by Sunflowery — February 28, 2009 @ 12:28 am
I can’t stand the smell of Fritos, let alone the idea of eating them. It’s kind of funny, because I can no longer remember what brought on this aversion, only that they are BAD BAD BAD.
Also I must avoid Jaegermeister, because it tends to lead me to attept to start fist-fights with people much bigger than myself. (I would never DREAM of fighting someone under normal circumstances…I was lucky the few times I tried this, the rather large men I tried to pick the fights with were my friends, and simply allowed me to poke them in the chest a few times before gently depositing me in a chair to sleep it off.)
Comment by Siege — March 2, 2009 @ 2:24 pm
Sadly, I can no longer eat apples with peanut butter on them! I used to LOVE them, but this year, there was an incident … a bug of some kind … Well, I was sick as a horse at work, and I had to go home. There was projectile vomiting involved that day – and again fairly recently, sorry to say. No more Centrum vitamins, either!
Comment by La BellaDonna — March 6, 2009 @ 2:02 pm