Super Bowl Strike Out

I couldn't help it. I had grown up eating safe foods. From an early age, my mom had organized my dinners using those paper plates with animal faces on them - separating each different entree and side with a barrier so each food never overlapped or touched. I had never known what it was like to mix all the different flavors, colors, and textures together into one bite, and my organization-based OCD only worsened this issue as I grew older. Making foods touch or adding different textures in one meal was a recipe for disaster. In my eyes, everything needed to be perfectly placed, so a dirty-colored soup with seafood and roasted vegetables was not at the top of my list of things to try next. In fact, I didn’t even have a list of foods to try next! Plain and simple, I was a picky eater.

It had all started in order to please my hardworking, but over-eager mother. She and her best friend, Kay, had worked up a sweat preparing, cooking, and getting ready to serve the large pot of gumbo to the friends and family that would be accompanying us that Sunday night. By the time all of the guests had arrived and the game had begun, the kitchen was flooded with smells and sights of beignets, pork and rice, shrimp, and my favorite, mac and cheese. It was a foreign world to me. My mother was an avid fan of pasta dinners and chicken nuggets, so anything that took more than a half hour to prepare and serve was new territory for our entire family. This night was different though. It was the 2010 Super Bowl and the New Orleans Saints were playing the Indianapolis Colts. Mom and Kay were expecting a big win, and a big win was what they got indeed.

I was a people pleaser, and although much to my dismay, 10-year-old Emma was going to try my mother’s gumbo despite how reluctant I was. Grabbing the ladle, I began to ladle small portions of the gumbo into my bowl, moving slowly to ensure that I wasn’t spilling any of the soupy mixture while it was on its journey from the large steaming pot on the stove to my small, inviting bowl. After deciding on a decent amount, I grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and joined my family and friends huddled around the small TV in the family room.

I could feel the heat radiating from the bowl onto my palms and fingertips, but I couldn’t get myself to move the spoon from the bowl to my mouth. The smell wafting from the bowl below my nose was overpowering - like a mixture of spices, butter, and hints of grains and nuts. The brown thick liquid engulfing the roasted vegetables and shrimp was enough to make my stomach churn. Just suck it up and get it over with! I couldn’t help but replay those words in my mind. In a second of spontaneous courage, I lifted a hefty spoonful of the brown liquid mixed with rice, shrimp, and veggies, and hurdled it into my open mouth. Instantly, my tongue was hit with the flavors of deep hearty earth and roots paired with a hint of salty seafood, most likely oozing from the pieces of shrimp marinating in the bowl. One spoonful of a taste was enough for my body to feel revolted; my stomach had reached its limit. The mixtures of smells, textures, and the overall look of the brewing stew had only reinforced my skepticism, leading to my eventual dislike. As a sign of defeat, I looked at my mother. I’m so sorry, I winced, and placed the bowl into her lap before heading back to the kitchen to indulge in the other yummy Super Bowl snacks sitting on the kitchen counter as a reward to myself for my bravery.

Since this escapade trying gumbo so many years ago, I have grown my palette and my overall enjoyment of trying new foods. I know what kinds of food I will most likely enjoy trying, just as much as I know what ingredients I should shy away from. When faced with a new, scary dish to try, I sometimes catch myself in a slight panic, reverting back to the younger picky eater I am at heart. It may take some time before I can escape those panicked thoughts, but once I do, I am usually proud and grateful that I did. Trying new things has allowed me to discover so many different kinds of foods I would never have known I loved. For every strikeout on a dish, there are many more I enjoy. One thing is for sure though: whether it be superstition, luck, or my first taste of New Orleans gumbo, the Saints won the Super Bowl that year - and until the day the Saints play at the Super Bowl again, I will not be trying my luck with gumbo any time soon.