This is not true.
I would no sooner sully an Oreo with cow juice than pile dill pickles on a HobNob.*
But I do like peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, as long as the peanut butter is creamy and the pickles are crisp and kosher—not that I care much about the religious preferences of the vegetable kingdom, but I firmly believe that garlic is essential for pickles** in the same way sugar really, really isn’t.
I also like cheddar cheese slices between Pringles. And dried pineapple in salted popcorn. And coconut M&Ms with dry roasted peanuts. And herbed croutons in my Mac & Cheese.
And fresh, crisp apples. Spinach, cooked or baby. Snappy jicama and mellow kohlrabi, both of which are all Mom’s fault—not that I like them, but that I’m so picky about quality and prep.
Most fresh fruit—hold the durian. All possible hummus—hummuses? hummae?—barring the ones with black olives, as I’m mildly allergic.
Pico de gallo trumps salsa, though not by much. It’s probably the onion.
The worst tortilla chips I ever had weren’t that much worse than the best tortilla chips I ever had. Saltier, though.
My MIL’s chili is perfection. So are steak fries with real melted cheese on them—not sauce. And cheddar cheeseburgers with burnt bacon, red onion, and tomato on them. Green salads with cold veggies, warm grilled chicken, a little cheese, and croutons.
Veggie burgers yes, notdogs NO.
I will admit to poking vanilla ice cream with the handle end of a mixing spoon and pouring in that waxy-chocolate Magic Shell® stuff, so it runs into the holes and goes solid. Down to the bottom of the container.
I love crab, but I don’t like lobster. I’m weird about pork products, unless they’re bacon or pepperoni.
Beer-battered fish is amazing, tartar sauce is an abomination—mayonnaise is for cooked recipes, not sandwiches, and don’t get me started on the crying disappointment that is garlic aioli.
Oysters or clams are the rubber boogers of the sea. Artichokes and grapefruit are meant to be enjoyed by other people. Caramel does not belong in coffee.
Gefilte fish is a marriage of food preservation and cultural pride gone tragically wrong. Matzoh is the exact opposite.
And I hold Very Strict Opinions about tuna salad, which is my exception to the mayo rule, but NOT the kosher pickle rule.
What are your food quirks/rules/habits/inexplicable cravings?
*That sounds a bit dirtier than I meant it to, though I’m now imagining Jim Carter flicking slices at Maggie Smith, which is ridiculous, as it’s far more likely to be the other way around.
**And many, many other things. When my MIL and I see a recipe that calls for a single clove or teaspoon of the granulated, we laugh.