Another colossal waste of time I encountered this week is the infamous Cous cous. I can't believe I used to enjoy this stuff. I used to think it was a beautifully versatile little accompaniment to almost anything. When I made my chickpea, cous cous, roast pepper and cucumber salad, it looked like the sort of meal that would usually be right up my street. But as I chewed, those infuriating little grains, which previously whispered sweet nothings of wholesomeness to my palette, began to feel like little serrated ball bearings on assignment to rouse my temper.
They were just there, EVERYWHERE. Dietary shrapnel, seemingly reproducing like grainy amoeba on crack in my mouth; jamming the spaces between my teeth, obstructing my natural chewing pattern and making the area under my tongue feel an abrasive carpet. I am still puzzled as to how this happened. Did something snap in my head? Did a neural anti-cous cous pathway just sprout in my brain, or did the pro-cous cous neural pathway just get zapped suddenyl? One day I loved the stuff; and the next day I didn't. T
Now, the way I see it, you may as well try to eat the stamen of a hibiscus plant, or the bleached/deodorised droppings of a really small rodent.
Eugh. Never again. So long cous cous; it was good while it lasted.
Good night.
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