I like profoundly strange moments. I don’t mean when you feel strange like when you might have eaten potato salad that may or may not give you food poisoning, or when you act strange like the time you may have decided that decidedly odd tights added something to your outfit. I mean when life is strange, and it carries you along because you’re there. I have hated ginger ever since I took capsules of it for motion sickness and at thirteen had a capsule of it dissolve when it was halfway down my throat and temporarily disable my taste buds from the scorch. (Is scorch a noun?). Today I was offered a peanut chew, which sounds sort of interesting to start with. I glanced at the package, saw that it said “ginger” on it, and immediately froze in my willingness. Still, since the person who handed it to me was very sweet and convinced I would like it, I smiled and put it in my pocket for later. About half an hour ago, I got up the nerve to try it. What’s the worst that could happen? I could just lose the function of my taste buds for a while, no big deal. So I took a deep breath and tore the wrapper off of the thing, and looked at it for a moment. It had some sort of powdered stuff on it and had the appearance of a tiny piece of Turkish delight. I love Turkish delight, so I stuck it in my mouth and began chewing. First, I tasted simply peanut, which was fine, and I expected. I tensed up considerably when I first tasted the slight sting of ginger, but I found that as I continued chewing, the sting became a very lovely but unfamiliar pleasure. In fact, I found that I could not only tolerate ginger, I liked it, much more than I ever could have thought.
I do not know why I felt pressed to write that down and capture it of all things, but I suppose moments that show you that your I-will-not-eat-this-on-any-terms-stubbornness can be broken are somewhat significant. But I will not ruin my musings with overanalyzing, if that’s even a word. I am content to look and expect more profoundly strange moments.
