There are those of us who appreciate a nicely broiled steak, a fresh fillet of salmon, a perfectly seasoned chicken, and yes, even pineapple on pizza.
Then there are those of us who char a steak until it's little more than boot leather, scorch a salmon fillet until the poor fish's ghost comes back to haunt them, stick chicken in the oven without seasoning it at all, and... well, hate pineapple on pizza. (There's nothing inherently wrong with this combination––fight me.)
We all have our own tastes, right? The people here have shared what they believe are the biggest "food sins" a person can commit.
I used to house share with a guy. We agreed to split the bill for the food essentials and buy anything different we wanted ourselves.
Every time a sauce bottle got down to be being about 1/3 full he would fill it up with water and shake it before use to 'get my monies worth'. I thought it was absolutely disgusting.
We had an actual full blown row about it, which seems very silly looking back but anyone who's house shared before will know the small things tend to get amplified.
Was on a flight last week - the lady sat next to me took the coffee mousse we had for dessert and spread it all over our side of garlic bread...and proceeded to eat it in one.
I don't think I was able to hide my look of sheer horror before she noticed it...
My dad used to start the thanksgiving turkey ridiculously early, like 9am, but we didn't eat till normal dinner time, like 5-6pm. So he'd take the delicious turkey out of the oven, toss it in the fridge for 5 hours, carve it at dinner time, pile it onto a platter, then stick the platter in the microwave. I usually slept in on thanksgiving, so I didn't catch on to this abhorrent practice until I moved out and started coming over for thanksgiving. I'm married with my own house now, so I host dinner now. Last year everyone was amazed at how moist my turkey was. Yeah, turns out not microwaving the s**t out of it makes it taste pretty good, who knew?
On behalf of my wife, I tell this story about myself.
I once had a really sore mouth and couldn't chew food. My wife made spaghetti bolognese and I told her I still couldn't eat, so she just ate alone and put the rest in the fridge.
I was so hungry from not eating properly for a couple of days though, so later I put it in a blender and drank cold spaghetti bolognese smoothie. She almost threw up watching it but it was actually okay.
We were staying at my moms friends house. She offered us cheerios and brings out apple juice and poured it in the bowl with the cereal. My mom and I looked at each other and knew telepathically we were in the presence of something evil.
My ex-wife would refuse to eat a meal unless it was served "piping hot." She also would refuse to come to the table to eat unless the food was already sitting there waiting for her. In fact, she wouldn't begin her come-to-the-table routine -- which included winding up whatever she was doing, going to wash her hands, and so forth -- unless the food was already on the table, even if I gave her several warnings that she should start getting ready because the food would be ready soon.
So given these two delightful qualities, at damn near every meal we ever had she would sit down, take a bite, pronounce the food too cool for her liking, and get up and microwave the shit out of it. Didn't matter what was on the menu -- a dish with a delicate cream sauce, an expensive cut of steak, sauteed fish, whatever -- into the microwave it went.
I went to Thanksgiving dinner with my girlfriend at the time. We visited her parent's place and it was my first time meeting them. I wanted to make a good impression, so I brought a corn casserole that ended up being a big hit with most of her family, especially her uncle. Dinner was done cooking and all that was left was for her dad to carve the turkey.
I notice he starts carving the skin off of the turkey which seems weird, but maybe he wanted the skin separated so those who didn't want it had more choice of turkey pieces. He gets through carving the bird while I'm just staring at the pile of turkey skin, nearly drooling.
He then proceeded to grab all of that slightly crunchy, sizzling, perfectly browned goodness and throw it directly into the trash can. It was then that I knew it wasn't going to work out.
I'm a waitress. I've seen it all, literally everything. And I don't judge. But this one time.......
Order starts out simple 3 egg soft scramble. Add spinach and goat cheese.
And fresh strawberries.
Scrambled. In the eggs. They turned this grey brown color.
She ate every bite.
My mum puts yogurt on her pizza
And I heard this was 'normal' but my boyfriend will take a whole spoonful of peanut butter and dip it in milk as if it was an Oreo and milk. He just sucks on the peanut butter with the milk for a good hour till both the milk and peanut butter are gone.
Had some family round for roast dinner. We had a really nice bit of beef that was still a bit bloody (probably rare to medium-rare). My uncle decides it's not cooked enough for him so he microwaves his piece until it's well done and then covers the whole thing in a 1/2 inch layer of horseradish.
So while I was growing up my family had lots of get-togethers where my grandparents on my dads side would host and cook. She cooked all sorts of things and most things were ready before we arrived, she just kept them in the oven to make sure they were warm by the time we arrived.
Everyone raved about my grandmas "famous cheese and potato scallops". And I admit, they were really fucking good. Super creamy, perfectly cut potato slices and seasoned to perfection. They were amazing and we all looked forward to grandmas "famous cheese and potato scallops"
Then one day, for some reason, I had to stay with my grandma all day and hang out with her while the rest of my family did their shit. We were having dinner later that night, so we went to the grocery store getting all the ingredients, she picks out a box and I see it and IT'S THE F**KING SCALLOPED POTATOES THE WHOLE FAMILY THOUGHT WAS HER RECIPE. There was no recipe, it was just instant s**t that she's bought for the last 50 years pawning off as her own somehow. Just add some water and put it in the oven badabing badaboom and done. It was always done before anyone arrived and she never told anyone in my family, for like half a century and somehow nobody in my family figured it out. I don't even think my grandpa knew. That was pretty sinful even for my young brain at the time,
I used to work in a fancy steakhouse. One night we had prime Wagyu beef as a special (this is a $100 piece of meat). My job was to run the food out to the tables, and half way through the night an order came back for well-done Wagyu. If you ask any chef they are going to say this breaks their heart, but people can order steaks how they like if they are the ones spending the money. When I run the steak out to the table the old man cuts into the center, and says it needs to be cooked longer. We repeat this two more times until there is essentially a $100 piece of jerky in front of him.
The old man then asks me for some ketchup and I had to watched him smother his hundred dollar Wagyu jerky in Heinz. The chef almost teared up when I told him. To each his own I guess...
I'm way too late but here is my culinary claim to fame. I can't cook unless I have clear instructions. It's not that I'm unable I just don't know what I'm doing. Give me a recipe and watch me go, otherwise get out of the way. Way out. Like in another house.
One day I tried to cook scallops. I have never cooked them, nor have I ever seen it done. Firstly, they were frozen scallops. Not a good start. My thought was, "You bake fish sticks and they are frozen. I'll bake these too." So I set the oven, put the scallops on a baking sheet and now we wait. If I remember correctly I did put some Johnny's on it.
About 20 minutes later I took them out and tried one. It was the consistency of a hard artist eraser. Well fuck me. So I think, "how can I save this? It's what I planned for dinner." Then I thought, "sauce might work." So I look in my cupboards and I find nothing. Then I remembered I bought some enchilada sauce for burritos and I could use it now and buy more later. So I quickly grab the can and go for the opener.
Open open open. Pour and plop. It wasn't until that exact moment that I realized I had not grabbed the enchilada sauce can. I had grabbed the refried beans. In my defense, they were the same brand. I stared morose at the abomination I had created.
At that exact moment my brother came into the kitchen to see what I was doing. Looked at my mess and fell over laughing. It turns out all you do is put scallops in a pan with butter and make them hot. That's it. I learned this in fits and starts between gales of laughter.
tl:dr I baked scallops into Lego tires and then tried to save them with cold refried beans. 1/10 do not recommend.
In-laws (rural Canada) values hot food above all.
Pasta night - dinner at 6. Put on hot water at 5. Throw pasta in whenever it boils. It boils for however long the package says to boil for. Turn heat to low and it stays in the pot of hot water until it's time to come to the table at 6 and start eating.
Vegetables are steamed until they are practically mush. Broccoli starts to smell sulphur-y and is grey/green.
Vegetables grown in the garden are not picked until they are gimongous and seeds are fully formed/mature. Cucumber seeds... ick. Not tender....
Someone I work with inspired this post. I love Oreos. Like, "buy a pack and it's gone that day" a lot. One day I saw one of my coworkers open an Oreo,
SCRAPE THE CREAM INTO THE F**KING GARBAGE
and just eat the cookies. Because it's "too sweet" for her. I almost called 911. A part of me died inside that day, knowing such evil exists. Disgusting.
Had an insane temporary house mate. We were both in a transitionary state of in lives. If I cooked and had extra she would have some, no big whoop. I am Italian-American and don't understand portion control so I make vats of food.
She, under her own gumption, decides to make dinner one night 'just for the two of us'. I am immediately confused. There is nothing in that fridge worth making dinner over, this I know.
I look to the counter and she's got out a couple half jars of salsa from a recent party, a bottle of ketchup, and a jar of olives.
"What're you making?" I ask knowing I'm going to hate the answer.
"Lasagna. I talked to your fiancé I know you love lasagna so I'm making us some."
Couple things: I know for a fact she did not talk to my fiancé. I know for a fact that I don't like lasagna. I know for a fact that you can't mix ketchup and salsa to make pasta sauce.
It was at this moment I knew that the transition time in my life was over and I needed to gtfo out of that house, and I knew that I had seen the worst thing ever attempted to be combined into a known food product.
*3 half jars of salsa *1 half bottle ketchup *1 half jar salad olives *1 half box elbow mac
Mix it all together, bake it, and then throw the whole thing into the garbage.
I visited a colleague for five days. I bought my own food and stored it in his kitchen, with his permission.
He took nearly all of my food without asking. He had four milks of his own and only used mine, and in excess. Whenever I cooked dinner for myself, he said, "I'm going to have that" and grabbed it for himself, without asking me. He never once cooked for himself or for us while I was there -- I did all of it, and he took.
When we went out to eat, he ate nearly all of the dish I ordered.
I honestly didn't know what to say. I've couched-crashed for years in various people's places, and I get antsy about getting confrontational in someone else's living space because it sometimes ended badly for me. It's a problem I want to fix.
There was other food drama that happened. I think it's tied to his lack of respect for personal space - he followed me from room to room like we were attached at the hip, especially in the kitchen. I could not prepare or eat my meals in privacy.
It got to the point where I stashed non-perishables in my suitcase and shut my door and ate as silently as I could. Food became associated with stress, and all I could eat for days after was rice porridge.
To me, stealing other people's foods is an ultimate food sin. You're pretty much taking someone else's money and sustenance, and being a colossal dick.
One of my friends from high school would put soy sauce/teriyaki sauce on ANY AND ALL Asian food. Stews, soup, meat, vegetables, and everything in-between. I could understand if he wanted some more saltiness/sweetness depending on the dish but he drenched things in it... Panda express, mongolian grill, cheap chicken teriyaki type food, fine, that's ok, it doesn't have much flavor to begin with anyway. But when we're at a nice Dim Sum or Japanese restaurant... So help me God. When the waiters saw us I wanted to explain that he was a random stranger that just sat down with me.
I was just out of high school and dating this guy long enough to go to Thanksgiving with his family.
I asked his mother if she'd like me to bring anything, she said yes, I suggested mashed potatoes, and she said that's great!
I'm used to the recipe that my grandmother did when making mashed potatoes. Her potatoes were so flavorful, full of butter, a little sour cream, some cream cheese. And she knew how to make them without becoming gummy. Dehydrate the drain potatoes, then use a ricer to get all the lumps out.
I made this, brought it to Thanksgiving. about when we're going to eat she sees my potatoes, and then proceeds to dump them out and mix them into her shitty, flavorless potatoes.
I couldn't say a damn thing, but I was horrified.
I had relatives invite us over for coffee and dessert after a restaurant dinner. Cool. They proceeded to heat up the coffee from their several-hour-old morning pot and serve it to guests. My dad, the unpickiest, chillest man ever, absolutely refused any coffee from them. They didn't see the big deal about giving us their old coffee. They thought my dad was being uptight.
Relatives are snooty patootie and had enough coffee to serve, but didn't want to make a new pot for their guests.
I drink my own coffee from the morning that went cold on me. Reheat in the m-wave. Boom. I'm good. I learned that from my parents. Who reheat their own coffee. Probably some good food sin there, but it's our own old coffee we are reheating for us-selves. I would never serve it to someone in my home or even offer it.