freckles make me strong.

In the last week I have ordered three meals that usually come with cilantro.  Despite my polite request to omit the herb, all three arrived with cilantro; an offensive of varying degree. 

The first was a Vietnamese sandwich with three sprigs.  I removed them easily and continued my meal.  The second was a pico de gallo situation, meaning it chopped up and harder to avoid.  The third was today Thai spicy salad, in which the cilantro was EVERYWHERE. 

If it were just a preference, I would make a big deal out of it.  But it’s not a matter of like or dislike.  It more a matter of it makes me feel sick for hours.  Eating lunch today meant tiptoeing through a culinary minefield. 

With the salad, which was delicious in every other way, I got a fortune cookie.  It reads: “You will finally solve a difficult problem that will mean much to you.”

I am hoping that the problem to be resolved will be cilantro.  My first choice would be that we make up and become great friends.  If that is not possible, the second and more realistic wish is that everyone would stop setting us up on play dates.