I attended a wedding in southern India a couple years back. I was
invited to meet the family of the bride (as she invited me to attend)
and they were the warmest people I'd ever met. Just imagine a good
ol'Sicillian family. You show up, you're treated like family. You sit,
someone stuffs food in your mouth. They ask you tons of questions, when
you attempt to speak someone else stuffs more food in your mouth. Eat,
talk, eat, talk.

Her mother served a meal called "idlly" (pronounced 'id-lee') and its a
patty made of fermented rice, served cold with several "dipping sauces".
I ate it, and it was hard to swallow. The sauces were simply not to my
liking, violently disagreeable with my stomach. When I finished, her
mother was quite impressed. Through Jaya (the bride) she complimented me
on eating her specialty, and added that she was going to make me a new
fresh batch! Oh boy.

I ate the second serving, avoiding the sauces, but even so
fermented-rice has a 'distinctive' flavor that says 'no'. I retched, but
swallowed it down. She offered a third serving, and I politely refused.
She plopped down a serving for everyone with a big smile. These idlly
paties are about the diameter of a hockey-puck, and as thick as a
pancake. Not a whole lot to them. I slowly ate it. Nibbling off peices.
She saw my lethargic appetite as a cue to suggest a new round of
different sauces. Some of them were pretty good.

It was now late, and we all said good-night. The next day the family
invited me to join them for breakfast by sending their driver over to
pick me up at the hotel. Like the Italians, you dont refuse an offer of
hospitality. Besides, I never had a 'proper Indian breakfast', and
wondered what it would be like.

Idllys.

Yes. Idllys. Two more servings of them foul nasty dietary-demons.
Everyone at the table ate them. She even packed a couple for my road
trip (I was headed out to visit local sites). I must confess that I did
not eat them, and I feel guilty to this day for not eating them.

Some weeks later, after her honeymoon, Jaya & hubby returned to the
states and the place we worked. She said to me, "Oh Mike, my mother was
SO impressed that you liked Idllys!"

I couldnt hold back, "Jay, your family treated me so warmly, and your
mother treated me like I was your brother. But, if I ever see another
idlly in my life I'll puke my brains out!"

An annoyed look shot through her eyes, "Damn it Mike, why didnt you SAY
something? We hate them too! And because of *you* we had to eat them for
3 days straight!!!"

OMG i actualy laughed out loud

Too funny, man. Lol

the thought of idllys still makes my stomach turn - and its been 10
years.

you have a lot of interesting stories/events
thank you for sharing them

That sounds pretty nasty mike.


Years ago, one of my martial arts teachers had me over for supper.

After I got thru eating, he told me it was dog. It was actually quite
tasty, but I was still upset at being fooled.

I stayed with a Portuguese family while in Lisbon, Portugal. Almost
every single day, the mother cooked "bacalhau", a Portuguese salt cod
that had been previously dehydrated and salted and that had to be
immersed in water for 24 hours before cooking. OMG - to a Canadian used
to fresh fish and beautiful Pacific salmon, this was totally 'foreign'
to me. I am very open-minded about other foods and cultures, but I just
couldn't get used to the bacalhau...