Neither rain nor blood cakes could keep me away from Taipei’s night markets
Are adventurous eaters the product of nature or nurture? My own childhood sheds little light on the issue as I grew up in a family with a fairly daring dinnertime table, although whether this was due to my parents having risky palates of their own or arose from sheer necessity is up for debate. I suspect it’s a little bit of both. My parents were no-nonsense when it came to dinnertime [and life — Tony], doing very little to accommodate the random culinary whims of their children and generally refusing to kowtow to picky proclivities: we could eat what was served, and if we didn’t like it then we wouldn’t eat at all, plain and simple. Despite my mother ruling the kitchen with an iron spatula, mealtimes we’re rarely a grim affair, because one of my mother’s many talents is that the lady knows how to cook. With the exception of a few infamous meals that we still joke about today, she rarely put anything unpalatable on the table, and my brother and I learned pretty quickly to trust that, at least in the kitchen, mother really did know best.
Steph and Tony are currently in Cambodia.