Save the Octopus

Do you have a crazy eating habit?

I have several, lets call the foodie quirks. I obsess over having the perfect last bite. It kills me when hubby or one of my kids want to try what im having, just when i am getting to the climax of my meal. A favorite plate that I enjoy is a deli sandwich. Sometimes ham on rye toast, other times turkey on white or maybe the crazy combo at our local delicatessen. Any way you slice the sandwich, I am there to enjoy it.

When making sandwiches, I must account for equally distributing all meat, veggies and condiments so that every bite has an equal amount apportioned between the fresh, soft slices of bread. I proceed to eat the sandwich until I leave “the perfect bite” for consumption last. No, not just consumption, enjoyment. I want to savor that morsel. In a sandwich, that bite is usually the center of the sandwich with a possible torn scrap of crust that was out of balance in prior biters, but will fulfill the symmetry of bread to filling ratio required for that last bite. I want to walk away from that sandwich with the memory of a delicious crescendo that was oh so satisfying to the palate. Yeah, kinda crazy over an innocent sandwich.

But there is another eating routine that trumps my last bite obsession and that belongs to popcorn. It’s not popcorn that I’m crazy about. It’s not even those unpopped kernels that people tend to wrangle for (especially my son). For me, it’s the shape of the kernel that I am seeking out, and will divide from the rest.

I call it the octopus shape. My husband nearly bust a gut laughing when he saw what I was doing one night while watching a movie. How I went along all of these years, undetected in my madness is beyond me. But I have been found out and can’t hide my octopi lust. I love to nibble their little tentacles away and save the round little “head” for last. Buah, ah, ah aaaaaaah!

Listen, I know you’ve got problems too. Some people eat the arms and legs of Teddy Grahams, then pop the head and torso down the hatch. Others dip their chicken in ketchup, mix peas in their mashed potatoes or cut pizza with a fork and knife. We all have our routines, our customs and our food fetishes.

At my house, save the octopus for me.