There are two sorts of people in the world: those like the starchy part of their food soaked, and those who like it dry. Think: rice mixed with stew, bread soaked in kebab-juices, mayonnaise and tomato smushed into the sandwich bread, gravy mashed into the potatoes with the back of your fork. That’s soaked food.

Actually, I always thought everybody was a soaked foodie, because after all, isn’t the whole point of enjoying food? Sopping up the juices with your bread/potatoe/rice? Although I had witnessed my youngest brother scream hysterically when on a couple of occasions my mother accidentally poured stew over his rice, as opposed to placing it neatly in the corner of the plate, I had dismissed that as a mere quirkiness of character. Everybody else in my immediate circle is a soaked foodie.

However, recently I noticed indications that dry foodies are not just random anamolies, but a goodish portion of the population- again, to start with my own family- take the Golden Boy. When he categorically refused to eat bread which had “touched” vegetables on a plate, a table companion smiled sympathetically and said “I know how he feels- I’m like that too.” His table antics regularly bring forth other anecdotes: “Yeah, my XXX is like that. If anything touches anything else on the palte, s/he won’t eat it. They all have to be separate.” Yes, this is A Thing.

This morning, I watched the Golden Boy and Princess eat chocolate chip pancakes. You could barely guess they were eating the same food: the Princess’s pancakes were drowning in a sea of maple syrup, soaked through and through. The Golden Boy’s pancakes were perfectly dry, with not a drop of liquid near them. Yet they were both happy. Soaked foodie, dry foodie.



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