To my great surprise, there has been widespread misunderstanding as to my stance on the Secret Treasure Loaf featured in a recent post. For the record, I discovered that particular gem in a search for a truly repulsive recipe (to pair with the most revolting of vegetable dishes, green bean casserole) that would not only turn a foodie’s stomach, but leave deep emotional scars. I believe I succeeded.
Still, the whole experience has left me wondering. If there are people out there who find this appealing, what must they have ingested previously? Is it possible there are worse things than Secret Treasure Loaf, things so vile and stomach-turning that a meatloaf made from Spam and Velveeta APPEALS? The mind reels, the spirit quails, the sphincter puckers. Nonetheless, I’m going there, folks. I am asking the question and as God is my witness, I will address each and every response. Ready?
What is the worst food you have ever been served?
Perhaps it was in your mother’s kitchen during the Atomic Fifties? Or maybe you’re a world traveler who encountered a particularly exotic culinary abomination on the road to wherever. It may be that a recipe mishap was involved, or you simply thought it would be interesting to try tripe. No matter, the more lurid and nauseating, the better.
I’ll go first, and I am really throwing down the gauntlet here. Witness: Velveeta fudge squares by none other than the fabulous Paula Deen. And no, I don’t know what she was smoking.
Talk to me, people. Unburden yourselves. Believe me, you’ll feel better once you get it off your chests. Plus it’ll help me kickstart that New Year’s diet plan I’ve been putting off. Win win!
I Like You, Hospitality Under the Influence by Amy Sedaris
This is one of my favorite cookbooks of all time, I suppose because it reminds me of my own life back in those hazy days before Dr. Feldman got the prescriptions balanced just so. Reading through it is, for me, like a walk down memory lane, a stroll through the past, a slow backward stumble into the three-day benders, stomach pumps and small town jails of yesteryear. It’s nostalgia with a twist, or perhaps twisted nostalgia would be a better description. Anyways…