Hominy

OK, I almost freaked out a little tonight while eating at Sis' house.

Sis made this wonderful chicken tortilla soup. It had a great consistency, and the perfect blend of spices to make the taste buds all happy, but it also had an ingredient that haunted my childhood ... HOMINY.

When I first saw it on my spoon in the mix with the other veggies I tried to tell myself that it was something else, but I knew that shape. I was worried that I would have a flashback and not be able to put the spoon in my mouth, but I closed my eyes, and there was not a problem. In fact, when I make the soup for my oldest, I will put it in, but I will have to close my eyes when I open the can.

Hominy was one of those things that my parents loved and I thought came straight from hell. It might have been the way the prepared it, or how it was served on the plate, but I could barely gag it down. It seemed to appear on my plate way too often, and I never understood why. In fact, I don't remember my parents ever eating it again after I became a teenager. It was like it was just there to torture me as a young child.

I did not like the smell, the look, the taste, nothing about it was appealing, yet being from a family that made me eat everything that was on my plate, gag it down I would. It seems it was never served with anything that I could mix it with to hide the taste. It was just there.

To this date, I have never had hominy in my house, but I liked this soup, and I don't think the texture will be right without it, so I guess it will make its entrance. I will only buy enough for the soup. Here is hoping there are no nightmares to go with it.