One Embarrassing Story About Food

Posted by D.J. on Jan 30, 2012 | 16 comments

Over Thanksgiving, reader-turned-girlfriend Jessica was telling a story about how one of her friends didn’t know that a pimento in a green olive was placed there by man.  Then my entire family started laughing at this friend that nobody except Jessica had met.  I’m pretty sure my sister yelled out, “Fool!”

No, that’s not true.  Nobody yells out, “Fool!”

I wasn’t particularly paying attention to this story, as is often the case.  I enjoy talking to myself.  But I did hear this olive story in the periphery and I became instantly confused.

I said aloud:

You know what?  I didn’t know that either.  I just thought olives grew that way!

C'mon - it totally looks natural.

The whole room turned at once to face me and fell silent.  You know that expression “my jaw fell open” in literature where something dumb or shocking is said and nobody knows how to react?  We all know that doesn’t really happen in real life, but imagine that’s what everybody did.

Then, Jessica said, “Um… you think it’s just part of the olive?  The red thing?”

Yeah, well, that’s what is so weird – I mean, why would they take the red part out, and then put it back in?  Do they pickle the pimento or something?  I don’t understand.

“D.J., the pimento is not part of the olive.  It’s red pepper.”

You’re shitting me.  No – wait.  Is it?  Like red pepper, the vegetable?

“Holy Christ.”

Mind you that not two years before I had been to an olive orchard in Tuscany and watched how they made olive oil.  I had never in my life thought that the olive and pimento were not united from birth.  I just thought that was the middle of the olive.

Please understand I can’t eat green olives.  I mean, olive oil is great, but green olives are just too goddamn strong.  I have never voluntarily eaten one on my own volition.  I can handle shaved pieces of black ones on a sandwich or salad, but even those are a little intense.

So, no martinis, no olive bar at the grocer, no drinking olive juice when I get desperate.  I stay away from olives.  I just don’t like them, and they make me queasy.  Even those little ones, capers, are kind of too much.

10x smaller, 10x more intense, 10x nastier.

I swear to God, at 35 I had never heard somebody mention that pimento means “red pepper” or whatever.

There, I exposed my food idiocy.  Please reveal yours.