Thursday, April 23, 2009


When I was a kid, my parents and my sister were always eating olives. Or not always -- because whenever there was a jar or a can they would gobble them all down and I could smell the olives in the air or on their hands for a while afterwards I couldn’t stand that smell it just got in everything. It’s why I hated olives I couldn’t remember the taste. Or even whether I’d tasted them.

Their favorites were the Greek olives, and we were always going to Greek restaurants so there were a lot of Greek olives. Not until a few years ago did I decide that I kind of like olives, especially freshly pickled ones on some kind of gourmet plate, just a few at a time. So when we’re at Millennium I ask my mother if she’s going to order the olive plate, but she says no, they make me blow up. I say what do you mean? She says my cheeks get all poofy and my skin turns green and I feel totally out of it. That’s an allergy, I say -- you’re probably allergic to olives, you shouldn’t have any ever again. My mother says really, that’s an allergy? I say yeah, and you love them too, right? She says yes, I say that’s exactly what a food allergy feels like -- it’s something you think is totally delicious, sometimes your favorite food, but whenever you eat it you end up feeling awful but you can’t stop eating it your body reacts like it’s a drug.

No comments: