Olive oil virgin
It occurs to me that I seriously should have made an Italian friend years ago. If I had we probably could have avoided the unfortunate olive oil incident. You see when we heard a few years ago how good for you olive oil was supposed to be I decided we should start using it. I marched off to the grocery store and stood in the oil aisle gazing slack-jawed at all the choices.
I knew that we needed to start with something mild what with never having used it much before and with Stace not being a real huge fan of the olive. Finally I found what appeared to be the perfect choice: Extra Virgin First Press Olive Oil. I was thinking hmmm… when it comes to olive oil we are ‘extra virgin’ so that should be perfect, right? Isn’t that the usual usage of the phrase… “I was raised in the Ozarks by really boring parents so I’ve never really cooked with you before… please be gentle with me, Olive Oil.”
That is not how it works in the olive oil world. Being virgins in the olive oil world and then starting out with extra virgin first press olive oil is somewhat like a shy inexperienced girl of fifteen heading out on her first date and ending up later that night at a BDSM club wearing nipple clamps and drooling around a ball gag while some big guy named Bull whips her rear end with an English riding crop.
It clearly wasn’t the way to go. If only I had known Salena back then all that shock and dismay and drooling could have been avoided.