Facing one of my Phobias: Abalone
March 24th 2009 21:00
I don’t like living creatures that don’t have bones inside them, are slimy or are made up of segments (with the exception of lobsters). Needless to say, then, I don’t like snails, edible or non-edible.
My more cosmopolitan friends encouraged me to try escargots. They said they were delicious. But the thought of sticking some slimy snail in my mouth was enough to give me the willies…even if it was cooked in garlic butter. It did sound tasty in theory but given my squeamish tendencies I doubted I would be able to put it into practice.
So imagine my horror when I was at the Australian National Maritime Museum one day and was looking at an abalone display. I was wondering exactly what they were when I found a small sign that said they were sea snails. Aaarrrgggghhhh! To think ironically I had already eaten something I was scared of. I couldn’t believe I had unwittingly faced one of my phobias and now, the idea of eating escargots doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.
Still, just looking at how slimy the abalone looks in this picture makes me shudder:
Wikipedia link
What happened was years ago I was in Chinatown with my father. He naturally wanted to have traditional Chinese food for dinner and he talked me into going to a place that was going to serve that type of food. The eatery was dirty and had organs and roast ducks on display near the window but that didn’t put my dad off. As long as he could have his roast duck and rice noodle soup, he was happy as Larry. The problem was me. He didn’t know what I could eat. I took one look at the menu and I couldn’t find anything to eat either. Finally he decided to just go ahead and order for me.
Several minutes later a large bowl of noodle soup was placed in front of me. Right on top of the noodles was this large, white, oval-shaped thing. I asked my dad what it was. He told me it was abalone. I asked him what abalone was and he said it was a fish.
Well, it didn’t look like a fish to me but I took my dad to mean it was some kind of sea creature. I poked at it with my chop stick. It felt rubbery. My father told me to take a bite. I did. It took me ages to get a bite into it as it was so chewy and rubbery and tasteless. My father started to brag about what a good dad he was, shouting his daughter abalone and did I realise abalone was very expensive and I should be grateful for the chance to eat a whole abalone when there were millions of starving people out there who would give their arm or leg just to have a piece?
Now I hated it whenever my parents went on like this. They did it every time they wanted me to eat something I didn’t like. So whenever they wanted me to eat fish, lobster or, in this case, abalone, they would remind me of the starving children in Africa. This did not make my meals any more enjoyable and after pointing out to my parents a couple of times that if the food was so expensive, they should save money by not buying me anything I wouldn’t like anyway i.e. seafood, they soon stopped doing this.
On this occasion, my father gave up on me. He could tell I didn’t like abalone and told me to pass it over to him instead. I moved it into his bowl of roast duck and rice noodle soup and he happily chomped away on it, telling me how much he enjoyed the chewy texture.
My more cosmopolitan friends encouraged me to try escargots. They said they were delicious. But the thought of sticking some slimy snail in my mouth was enough to give me the willies…even if it was cooked in garlic butter. It did sound tasty in theory but given my squeamish tendencies I doubted I would be able to put it into practice.
So imagine my horror when I was at the Australian National Maritime Museum one day and was looking at an abalone display. I was wondering exactly what they were when I found a small sign that said they were sea snails. Aaarrrgggghhhh! To think ironically I had already eaten something I was scared of. I couldn’t believe I had unwittingly faced one of my phobias and now, the idea of eating escargots doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.
Still, just looking at how slimy the abalone looks in this picture makes me shudder:
Wikipedia link
What happened was years ago I was in Chinatown with my father. He naturally wanted to have traditional Chinese food for dinner and he talked me into going to a place that was going to serve that type of food. The eatery was dirty and had organs and roast ducks on display near the window but that didn’t put my dad off. As long as he could have his roast duck and rice noodle soup, he was happy as Larry. The problem was me. He didn’t know what I could eat. I took one look at the menu and I couldn’t find anything to eat either. Finally he decided to just go ahead and order for me.
Several minutes later a large bowl of noodle soup was placed in front of me. Right on top of the noodles was this large, white, oval-shaped thing. I asked my dad what it was. He told me it was abalone. I asked him what abalone was and he said it was a fish.
Well, it didn’t look like a fish to me but I took my dad to mean it was some kind of sea creature. I poked at it with my chop stick. It felt rubbery. My father told me to take a bite. I did. It took me ages to get a bite into it as it was so chewy and rubbery and tasteless. My father started to brag about what a good dad he was, shouting his daughter abalone and did I realise abalone was very expensive and I should be grateful for the chance to eat a whole abalone when there were millions of starving people out there who would give their arm or leg just to have a piece?
Now I hated it whenever my parents went on like this. They did it every time they wanted me to eat something I didn’t like. So whenever they wanted me to eat fish, lobster or, in this case, abalone, they would remind me of the starving children in Africa. This did not make my meals any more enjoyable and after pointing out to my parents a couple of times that if the food was so expensive, they should save money by not buying me anything I wouldn’t like anyway i.e. seafood, they soon stopped doing this.
On this occasion, my father gave up on me. He could tell I didn’t like abalone and told me to pass it over to him instead. I moved it into his bowl of roast duck and rice noodle soup and he happily chomped away on it, telling me how much he enjoyed the chewy texture.
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Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis