For the Love of God, Don’t Put Celery in the Stuffing

For as long I can remember, I have hated, nope… detested, the taste of celery. That’s right. Celery. I have no idea where it stems from. I have no early childhood memory of an evil babysitter force feeding me celery, or eating celery soup when I was home sick with the flu, or a traumatic holiday experience with peanut butter filled celery. I just don’t like it. A lot don’t like it.

So what exactly is it about celery that I find so offensive. It’s a combination of bad. Part taste, part smell, part texture. When I tell friends of my strong aversion, they universally come back with... What if it’s cooked? Doesn’t matter. Hate. What if it’s filled with peanut butter? Nope. Won’t do it. How can you hate it, it has no taste!? Sure does. Vile.

In a completely unscientific study of friends and family over the years, I have found exactly 3 other people who hate celery as much as I do. When we first discover our mutual displeasure of the stalk, we are like long-lost brothers in arms who washed ashore together in Normandy. We have found each other. We embrace, we cheer, sometimes we cry. We share celery stories. No one understands, we sniff. We hug each other knowing that we have found someone else who knows the pain we’ve endured over the years. We are soul mates.

So, what does any of this have to do with photography? Absolutely nothing. But, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and frankly, I’m terrified about seeing celery. Cream cheese and olive stuffed celery, itty bitty pieces of celery in the stuffing, or worse: giant chunks of celery in the salad. Because, for me, celery is quite simply, the worst food ever.

post script: Thanksgiving was a success! No celery sightings. Thanks, Dave.