When I attended a food-tasting event with a friend recently, she did something that had me looking at her in sympathy and, well, amusement because I’m just a twisted friend like that.
She’d put a forkful of a mysterious something—we didn’t know what a lot of the samples were, as we were pulling a grab-and-go-and-taste kind of action plan because of the large crowd size—into her mouth and then immediately began to look around frantically for a napkin.
The mystery had been solved. It was the dreaded mushroom that topped the artichoke mousse. I stood to the side and relished the taste combination, being a Friend of the Fungus, as I watched my friend spit her mouthful of misery into a napkin. Such a lady, that one.
In hindsight, maybe I should have been more sympathetic. Then perhaps karma wouldn’t have bit me in the you-know-where with this item.
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