The biggest issue for me is being called a picky eater. It’s not that I’m picky, per se. It’s more like things were not as I was told—my least favorite food: soul food. You heard me right.

Growing up in New York, both my parents were from the southern states. Naturally, soul food was the mainstay in the house. For me, not so much. I know how to cook all the greens, beans, and peas, but I don’t eat them. Nope. But I’ve always been the odd duck in the family.

It’s not like I didn’t try. I really did. But when I was told grits taste like farina and liver tastes like pork chops, trying any new foods was not on my menu. For years.
Even now, when I participate in a survey on Facebook about foods I would eat, I laugh. Typically out of 50, I might get 3.

Now, I’m trying to embrace new foods. To my husband’s dismay, Zimne Nogi or Studzienina will never be a dish for me, although I do love kielbasa. They’re just big hotdogs to me.