Have you ever been dining with someone and they take a bite of something, then make this horrible, scrunched-up face? Their mouth kind of turns down at the corners while their eyes squeeze down to slits. They turn red, cords stand out on their neck, and they start beating on the table, chewing through sheer force of will until they finally swallow the offending food. Then they dive for their glass and drain whatever’s in it in three or four large gulps, liquid trickling out of the corners of their mouth in their haste to wash away the horrible taste. Then they sit there panting for a moment, trying to regain their composure and control their bile. Finally they look at you and say, “That was the most hideous, God-awful, fly-blown piece of rancid filth I have ever had in my mouth. Here, try some.” And you do!

I’ve decided I’m just going to take their word for it. Food, in general, shouldn’t make you cry.