A Tale of Tomato Sauce and Iced Drinks

A little more than a decade ago, eating was torture. While some people live to eat, I barely ate to live. I pretty much disliked most food I tasted. Spaghetti, however, disgusted me the most. 

Aside from the sweet chopped onions most kids I know hate, the thick, blood-colored sauce that painted lips red and cheeks orange kept me from enjoying it as all the while I thought it was ketchup. Unlike my sister, I hated ketchup. I’d cringe with distaste as I watched her drink an entire sachet of fastfood ketchup, as if it were chocolate, after the fries have disappeared.

In kindergarten, we were brought snacks (which seemed more like meals to me) ordered from the campus food service everyday. Whatever food they served that day was the only food we’d get to eat. And so, I dreaded spaghetti day.  But being a timid, fearful child taught not to waste food, I, removing the onions and holding my breath, always struggled to finish my spaghetti. The onions, I flicked or sometimes wiped under the table when no one was looking since we were expected to finish our snacks and required to wash our own plates and utensils.

Like other picky children, however, there was this one thing I didn’t mind eating more than three times a day everyday for the rest of my life. It was sweet, it melted in my mouth and, consistent with my love for food, I didn’t have to chew it—popsicle. Ingesting popsicle wasn’t like eating at all as I didn’t get tinga, though it sometimes gave me orange, brown, red or blue tongue and teeth. But best of all, it was cold. The coldness soothed me. It still does (though not as much as it did around a decade ago). If that’s due to our warm climate or something else, it’s difficult to tell. 

Popsicle was the only thing I ate that made me feel better whenever I suffered from my usual hyperacidity, fever, or common cold. I had popsicle when the heat made me sweat. I had popsicle when the rain made me shiver. I had popsicle even when we had none. I’d ask my mother to make ice candy as substitute. Then, I learned from school that frozen jelly ace tastes close. But when the stock of frozen goodies didn’t last, I’d simply sneak an ice cube from the ice tray to complete my day. 

Since high school, I learned to eat more and am no longer as picky as I used to be. I started liking spaghetti a few years before, perhaps when I learned that spaghetti sauce was not ketchup. I still cringe around ketchup (and condiments such as mayonnaise and mustard) though, except when fried potatoes are concerned. It’s been years since my last popsicle. I don’t remember it at all. My preference for cold treats, however, remains apparent in my choice of beverages. Drinks warmer than ice just don’t taste right.

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The food paper for PI.