Monday, 2 May 2011

Smoked Salmon, Pickled Herring and an Epiphany

Last week I had a small epiphany. 

I. Like. Smoked. Salmon.

For years I have looked longingly at plates smoked salmon - so inviting, so pretty, so sophisticated. I loved the idea, the look, the smell, even the taste... but the texture. Yuck. Something in my brain could not get past the slimy, sticky texture. It would barely touch my teeth before I had to spit it out. 

But, last week, I was having a delightful Royal Wedding brunch with a dear friend and she brought out a platter of smoked salmon:

Beautiful, right?

And it just smelled so damn good. Which is why I thought, what the heck, and tried a tiny sliver. And then a bigger sliver. And then a chunk. And then I realised I had crossed an invisible line and suddenly I couldn't believe I had ever disliked this wonderful food. Ring the bells. Halleluja. She has tasted it, and it is GOOD.

Think of all the options open to me now! Bagels and lox, is high up on the list.

My lovely friend put some in the scrambled eggs and I gobbled them up like a starving person. They were just too damn good.

Now. After this life changing smoked salmon epiphany, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I was up for anything. What else might I have missed out on, all these years? So I looked around the table and saw a small pot. What's this? I asked my friend. It's a kind of sweet pickled herring, I was told. You might not like it, it's an acquired taste.

Pah! I thought. I am Effie, eater of Smoked Salmon. Hand me a fork.

Well, I can say with absolute certainty, I will never eat this again. 

Sorry, little pot of pickled herring, nothing personal. You're just not my type. And you smell really bad.


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