I just finished reading Eloisa James' memoir Paris in Love and other than the overuse of sartorial -- totally loved the book. But there is no way I am subscribing to her idea of trying the foods she wolfs down -- brain pie with cockscomb garnish. No WAY! I can't even get past the weird color of corned beef.
I am from a family of proudly fussy eaters (not that you would know it to see us chowing down or by our waistlines). For example, my sister cannot have her food touching. My brother has to have the proper proportion of condiment to main dish. My fussy eating is legendary among my lunching companions -- one person still can't get over that I order sides as an entire meal (e.g., baked potato, cole slaw, and lima beans).
