Today the boys and I were relaxing in our cool basement due to the insane heat wave that has hit the world.
Well, in reality I was attempting to relax while Adrian jumped continuously from couch to floor and back again and Finley wandered aimlessly around with a Toy Story hamper over his head. (the collapsable, netted kind - in other words, he could breathe. In case you were concerned.)
I was starting to feel a bit peckish and stated to my boys this fact hoping to encourage them to eat something of a nutritious value. Due to the extreme heat it seems they've lost all appetite except for popsicles or freezies.
Can't say I blame them.
Up the stairs we went with me thinking about the delicious snack I had in mind.
Smoked oysters and cheddar cheese on wheat thins.
Okay, so not the most orthodox of snack choices. I blame my weird food choices on my childhood.
I grew up eating things of the strange and unusual. Thinking back I wonder how my parents ever thought we'd eat such unconventional grub ... but we did.
Things like sardines on buttered saltines.
Liverwurst on toast.
Smoked oysters and mussels.
Blue cheese and pears.
I tried liver once too.
And I liked it.
Beef tongue, however, is where I must draw the line.
I also loved and still enjoy the chocolate bars that most people would never, ever consider.
Eat More's, Bridge Mixture and Big Turk's.
Or maybe you are abnormal like me.
And in that case I don't feel so odd. And neither do you now.
My husband doesn't help matters when he practically gags as I eat them. I once thought it would be a great idea to serve up some of my favourite ocean nibblies for company and the look John gave me was of pure mortification as he said, "I don't think too many people enjoy eating things of that nature as much as you do."
Anyway, it seems as though my little one may have inherited my taste for the unconventional.
As I sat at the kitchen table with my smorgasbord of smoked oysters, crackers and cheese he climbed up onto the chair opposite to me and pointed enthusiastically at my oysters.
Me, dubious "You want one of these? An oyster?"
Finley eyes lit up with a smile "Mmmm." (that means yes)
I plucked one up with my fork and handed it to him.
He pulled it off the utensil and popped it in his mouth like it was a delicious morsel of candy.
Munch, munch, chew, chew.
And waited for the chewed up piece of brown to spew back out of his mouth.
He actually swallowed and motioned for more.
In the meantime Adrian moseyed on over, curious about the noshing happening between us.
Me, "You want one Aidy?" I asked holding up an oyster, recalling the first and only time I unsuccessfully offered him an smoked oyster
Adrian glances at it with decidedly unconvinced look upon his face and said bluntly, "No, I hate oysters."
Now I don't condone the use of the word hate so much but looking at the dangling piece of ocean specimen with all it's strange folds and ... things, I couldn't totally blame him.
It's not the most aesthetic looking of fare.
But Finley had another oyster....and then another.
I was starting to feel a tiny bit bothered.
It's a known fact around here that I don't particularly enjoy sharing my food. I love cooking for others but when people take my food off my plate it just doesn't sit well with me.
Yes, this includes even my children.
(An issue that may need to be addressed via another post - or a future therapy session.)
By the third oyster he leaned over the table, opened his mouth as wide as it could possibly go and out the ashen masticated lump was unceremoniously dumped.
He looked at me with disgust.
Apparently it takes him 3 bites of food before he can decide if he likes of the taste of something.
And clearly he realized he did not like the taste of my precious smoked oysters.
Well, at least he tried.
And now I don't have to share my delectable sea snacks with anyone else.