Why paper straws are horrifying
Adeline loves eating, a lot and often, both at home and out. Usually that goes well, but sometimes it doesn’t. For example, when you give her a paper straw or wooden cutlery.
If someone asks me what I like doing most in my spare time, I’ll say reading a book, working out and travelling for appearances’ sake, but if I’m honest, it’s eating, drinking and travelling a lot. I also make sure to choose my travel destination based on the chances of finding delicious food and drinks, and that brings the circle full circle (and makes me rounder too, by the way).
The equivalent of fingernails on a blackboard
For example, you can make me happy (like a true hipster) with a food festival where I’m officially allowed to spend the whole day sampling street food (that’s the hip term for a portion that’s just a little too small) in the name of food. But you can also very easily ruin my fun by serving me a delicacy accompanied by a paper straw or wooden cutlery.
To me, this is the equivalent of fingernails scraping across a blackboard or the sound and feel of polystyrene foam. Can you feel it deep, deep in your fibres, bones and whatever else you have inside you? That texture, boys and girls—dis-gus-ting. Shivers run from my hairline to my sagging left sock. I’m pleading purely out of self-interest for festivals free of paper straws and wooden cutlery.
The mouthfeel of a wooden spoon
In the higher echelons of eating and drinking, they also talk about ‘mouthfeel’. Well, the mouthfeel a wooden spoon gives me is such a rare, uniquely horrifying experience that I might actually leave the food untouched. And that’s saying something. Just imagine a delicious soup that you then have to eat with a wooden spoon. Dis-gus-ting.
I can be as happy as a child when a cocktail is being made, but if I detect a paper straw, fifty percent of my cocktail joy disappears. Not the rest of my happiness, of course, because it’s still a cocktail. But that feeling of that straw in my mouth…
A.S. on G.S.
It even goes so far that I try to position a piece of food on my (wooden) fork in such a way that my lips—or worse: the inside of my mouth—don’t come into contact with the cutlery in any way. Now, you could file this under A.S. on G.S., as my mother used to call it (attention-seeking on a grand scale), but this horrendous feeling has actually been scientifically proven.
I have grima
Scientists talk about a unique emotion, which I can confirm, because apart from a disgusting story, little can ruin my appetite so thoroughly. There’s no translation for it in English or Dutch, which I think is a shame, but the Spanish call it grima. Basically, you get it from fingernails scraping across a blackboard, but there are people who experience grima in other situations. I’ve taken the liberty of diagnosing myself with this affliction when it comes to paper straws and wooden cutlery.
That leaves just one problem, because since the entire ocean is going to hell as a result of all the plastic we produce, I have to find a solution for my grima. So if you happen to see a woman at a food festival rushing from food truck to stall and back to the food truck with a fork from home and a stainless-steel straw (yes, they exist), say hello—there’s a good chance it’s me. Otherwise, the burgers only policy comes into effect, also known as: eating deliciously with your hands.
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