Saturday, 6 October 2012

What goes around comes around.

ALL of my children will tell you I'm a bit of a Nazi. I have been described by various fruits-of-mine-loins as The Manners Nazi, The Grammar Nazi, The Food Nazi.. indeed the second youngest once described me as The Everything Nazi.

I am perfectly ok with all of that, but it's my reputation as The Food Nazi I want to focus on.

I eat some weird shit. Chicken's feet, duck tongue, jelly fish, my mother's chicken casserole. I have a global approach to food. I've eaten snake, bull's penis, deep fried pigs ears, just to name a few things I have willingly put in my mouth.

Which is not to say I serve this sort of stuff to my family. I don't, but I will order all the above when out to dinner.

And the rule in my house is that you don't have to like something, but you DO have to try it. Simply looking at something and declaring "I don't like that" is a surefire way to get me riled.  I have argued with my kids over everything from whole roast chickens to Cos lettuce.

And I always win.

So Vop is being treated the same. I cook dinner and she eats it. If she doesn't like what I have served, she will be offered an alternative, but ONLY after she's actually tasted it. It's been a gas to watch her tentatively approach everything from sausages to jelly cups and watch her eyes widen with pleasure as she realizes that just because something looks different to what she's used to, it doesn't mean it doesn't taste good.

She truly doesn't like cooked mushrooms, eggplant and a few other things, but by and large she'll try pretty much anything.

So, while The Husbang is up in Hagen, I invited a friend around to keep Vop and I company. Roslyn is a local woman, who knows Vop well, Indeed she's from the same village and was instrumental in helping us get Vop in the first place.

So Roz turns up the other day toting a plastic bag. In which, she declares, she has a present for Vop.  And she does. A lovely big plastic bag of boiled chicken heads.

Would you like a few moments to re-read that and compose yourself? You just urped, didn't you?

Roz has cooked these delights up at home, poured the entire disgusting mass into a plastic shopping bag and walked for at least half an hour in 90 degree heat to our door,

And Vop fell on these culinary horrors like she was starving.

These fuckers still had beaks, people! And freaky little boiled eyelids.

And Vop grabs one of these things and starts sucking on it like a popsicle.

Mein Goat, it was atrocious.

Not as atrocious as what happened next, however, Vop, with juicy boiled chicken brain goodness dribbling down her chin, grabs one of these Zombie Pops and offers it to me, muttering "Here, Mumma, you eat this one, it's good. Very tasty"

Can I get a resounding FUCK, NO? There is no way on Goat's Green Earth that I am putting a whole boiled chicken freaky all-day sucker in my gob. I swear, it's mouth was freaking OPEN, and that little zombie fucker was smiling at me.

Yes, I've eaten some weird shit. Feet and tongues. I WAS MARRIED TO MR. CHARISMA BY-PASS, PEOPLE, I'VE HAD FREAKY SHIT IN MY MOUTH BEFORE! But I have NEVER eaten the entire head of any other creature, especially not one that has been steeped in a soup├žon of salmonella with a side order of staph.

So, I realize that I'm backing away from this horror, with my hands outstretched and clearly a look of pure disgust on my face.

Which, by the way, was a perfectly reasonable response, I feel.

And Vop says to me, over the sound of her crunching through skull (breaking the number one Food Commandment of never talking with your mouth full) "You MUST try it, Mumma. You don't have to like it, but you have to try it"

Fuck me backwards with a spoon. Hoisted on mine own petard.

So, I pulled one out of my other kids book and declared that I wasn't hungry right NOW, but I'd LOVE to have one for my dinner later.

There's a goddamn plate of the  freaky boiled bastards in the 'fridge right now, people. I can hear then laughing at me, and waiting for me to go to sleep before they summon their Zombie energy and march on their sauteed neck stumps, up the stairs, to peck me to death in my sleep.


  1. Bahahaha! You've raised Vop well. :-)

  2. Not bahaha, not omnom. Unless, of course you two want to drop by and baha oimnom on them? Shall I warm them up for you?

  3. Pop my share in the freezer for later baha-omnomming. ;-)

  4. After she went to sleep, I fed them to the dogs. The great thing about her being 4, is that she'd forgotten in the morning ;)