Caesar salad always came with a caveat.
No anchovies, please.
And if they were part of the dressing, well, there goes that. There’s always caprese.
So having not ever come within fork’s distance of an anchovy in my entire life, I nonetheless absorbed my mother’s strong aversion to the slimy, hairy fish and decided that I too would never, ever eat it. Because ew. So gross. Continue reading “anchovies and adulthood”