I donât think thereâs any food that gets under my skin more than red bell peppers. I hate them. I hate them but I donât find them disgusting. I donât know how to explain it. theyâre so close to being nice, sometimes Iâd say I donât even dislike them because Iâll eat them without having a reaction of pure and utter repulsion like I do with even the faintest whiff of blue cheese. I actually eat red peppers on a somewhat regular basis, knowing full well theyâre in the pasta sauce or in the salad or whatever. but I donât like them. I almost like them, but every time, Iâm disappointed. it makes me angry, the taste of red peppers makes me angry. itâs the taste of being let down over, and over, and over again. I eat red bell pepper and my body is overwhelmed by this deflated sense of, âoh, for fuckâs sakeâ. I would eat them before a long, long list of other foods, but none of them inspire the same deep, visceral resentment.
this is obvs a v different sensation to eating courgettes. which are, of course, cucumbers that know sorrow.
