The thing about being a picky eater, especially in Lebanon, is that everyone around you manages to take personal offense to the fact that you simply don't like to eat everything put in front of you. All of a sudden, you have skirmishes with parents, siblings, friends and even extended family, all because you aren't content with the idea of eating food like you're an animal forced to eat from a giant trough of glob along with the rest of the cattle.

And for me, it’s not just about being a picky eater, it’s also about not wanting to mix food together. The way I see it, mixing food together prevents you from enjoying the actual taste of what you’re eating.

I’m going to go with the example of tabbouli instead of regular garden salad simply because almost every Lebanese person loves it, except me.





The scenario usually goes a little something like this: after spending about five to ten minutes trying to internally convinced myself that I can eat the tabbouli placed in front of me, I decided to just ignore it and keep quiet. Maybe no one will notice I'm not eating the physical embodiment of Lebanese national pride.




Of course, this strategy never works. You're simply not Lebanese if you're not shoving yourself into other people's business... and flavor palates.




So, in a pitiful attempt to shut up the haters, you start to pick at the goddamn tabbouli.



Can someone please explain to me why it must consist of massive chunks of banadoura? I mean, really? No human should ever be forced to eat this much banadoura in one sitting.

*shudders*

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this is the second article I read on beirut.com written by a tabbooleh hater. I think that there is some kind of conspiracy behind :p :p

عبد الرحمن الجزار on Jul 28, 2015 via web