Kate here, with a tale of culinary woe.
The other day, my partner brought home a grocery store pizza as a treat: four-cheese with caramelized onions. He showed me his score in the early afternoon and I was looking forward to our tasty dinner after finishing up for the day.
I emerged from the spare room-slash-office, blinking into the light, and settled in for our nice evening.
I took a bite: gooey, cheesy, perfect crunchy crust, and…wait…is that?
It is.
Oh no, it is.
Goat cheese.
And lots of it. Smeared under the sauce, no less, so there was no way to decontaminate my pizza.
I whimpered slightly and put my slices on his plate. When he raised an eyebrow at me, I simply said, “Goat cheese” and his face crumpled.
He hadn’t read which four cheeses were involved, and now I wasn’t going to eat dinner.
He got the whole pizza to himself, and I went to scrounge for leftovers.
Sigh.
Overall, I’m an extremely adventurous eater. I’ll try just about anything twice, as long as I don’t know what it is first …
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