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Bikini Mod
New member
OK here is a story for you:
I grew up the child of poor immigrants. My mother came from a VERY poor family. My dad only got helped to being poor once the communists invaded Hungary. Anyways, whatever my mother put on the table, you had to eat it ALL - no complaints and no excuses.
I was about 4/5 and one summer day my mother made kapros tok fozelek - which is squash stew heavily seasoned with dill (that woman would make fozelek - which is sort of a poor man's stew with EVERYTHING). I took a bite and cried, told her that I didn't like it. Begged her not to make me eat it. Well, she became indignant, to say the least. She gave me this big long speech about how hard my father worked to give her money so that she could feed us. So I figured if I ate it real fast w/out breathing through my nose, I wouldn't taste it and I could get it all down. THE SECOND I took my last bite ALL OF IT CAME BACK INTO MY PLATE.... right in front of my mother. I thought for sure I was dead. My mother was in shock, didn't say a word, told me to go outside and play. She cleaned it up and NEVER made that dish again, nor anything seasoned with dill.
To this day, I can not even stand the smell of it, let alone eat anything seasoned with it.
Good enough fer ya?
I grew up the child of poor immigrants. My mother came from a VERY poor family. My dad only got helped to being poor once the communists invaded Hungary. Anyways, whatever my mother put on the table, you had to eat it ALL - no complaints and no excuses.
I was about 4/5 and one summer day my mother made kapros tok fozelek - which is squash stew heavily seasoned with dill (that woman would make fozelek - which is sort of a poor man's stew with EVERYTHING). I took a bite and cried, told her that I didn't like it. Begged her not to make me eat it. Well, she became indignant, to say the least. She gave me this big long speech about how hard my father worked to give her money so that she could feed us. So I figured if I ate it real fast w/out breathing through my nose, I wouldn't taste it and I could get it all down. THE SECOND I took my last bite ALL OF IT CAME BACK INTO MY PLATE.... right in front of my mother. I thought for sure I was dead. My mother was in shock, didn't say a word, told me to go outside and play. She cleaned it up and NEVER made that dish again, nor anything seasoned with dill.
To this day, I can not even stand the smell of it, let alone eat anything seasoned with it.
Good enough fer ya?
