Olive Oyl

Here comes another round of Katie, in this post referred to as Olive Oyl for reasons soon to be revealed.  It took her weeks, months, before Olive would admit to me the one food she loathed without ever having tasted.  She wouldn't tell me for fear of what I might make her do*. So, I started guessing.  Can you imagine how long it would take to guess a food Katie hadn't tried?  Well, that's not hard, but how about one that she hadn't tried that already caused her violent reaction? It took a while, but for the sake of this blog was a worthy cause.  I finally guessed it:

Now, I know what you're thinking.  What about when you were a kid and you put them on your fingers?  Or at Thanksgiving when you're passing them around the table?  In a dirty martini?  Tapenade? No, no, no, and no.  Somewhere in the distance, I think I just heard someone say "I've never had a dirty martini."

When she tried it, she said something like, "Oh, woe is me! Oh, help! Saveth me! Saveth me!" Olive swore up and down she'd never eat an olive, and now swears she'll never have another, but at least she tried it!

*For the record, all parties were willing to try the olive.  She tried it as a birthday present to me.