People Come Clean About Disgusting Meals They've Eaten Out Of Mere Politeness

Shortly after (a few days) I started dating my wife she invited me over to her place for dinner. Pork roast, baked potatoes, green beans etc. Needless to say, I was looking forward to it for many reasons not the least of which was that I somehow was dating a beautiful woman who also apparently could cook.

I show up at the scheduled time after getting out of work and sit down to the table with a glass of JD while she whizzes around the kitchen wrapping things up.

She come trotting out with our plates happy/proud as could be and serves dinner. I took one look and knew I was doomed (as I had worked in a few restaurants up to this point and grew up in a family of cooks) but figured I could man my way through it.

The beans and baked potato were fine. The pork roast, however, was not. It was like eating a hockey puck that had taken a trip through the pits of hell. I casually asked for the salt and ketchup claiming that I like my pork roast with those and went to town. 30 minutes later I had a gut full of leather and veggies and was thanking Zeus that I was able to get through it after kindly turning down seconds due to a 'late lunch at work'.

Fast forward a few months and we were having a grill out. I am assembling my burger and my girlfriend passes me the ketchup which i (without even thinking) decline because I do NOT like ketchup on anything. The table goes silent, a cold wind blows through the rair and it dawns on me... I just bucking blew my fucking cover.

Needless to say, the next few minutes were not pleasant. Fortunately for me her dad came to my rescue and said "Darling, I saw the pork roast you made and I wouldn't have fed it to my dog let alone another person and this guy ate every bit you gave him. Either he was really desperate or he REALLY loves you so you need to keep that in mind before you rip him in half over the ketchup snafu".

Here we are now almost 9 years later and every once in a while at dinner I'll ask her to pass me the ketchup... if I want to be ignored for the rest of the night.

D3M0NYK

I was a sweet, idealistic 19 year old when I met my now-husband. Oh, I was going to be the perfect wife. EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE PERFECT!

Well, I cooked him dinner and took it to him to work. He worked overnights. I made barbecue chicken, green beans and broccoli casserole.

He was thrilled. He had been living with his parents after a nasty divorce, living on frozen dinners. His first wife does NOT cook. (She is very proud that she does NOT cook.) Not I. I was certain I was stepford wife material.

I noticed he was eating the broccoli casserole with enthusiasm. I mean, he was really shoveling it down! I made a mental note. A success like this could make a home cook's reputation. He bragged about my cooking in front of me several times throughout the week.

I was so excited! I had stumbled on his favorite food! What luck! I made a new broccoli casserole, and dished it out into servings, each with a piece of chicken. I made homemade frozen dinners! My granny was right. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

I started sending him off with his dinners every time he left my house for work. I picked up a second job, and was too tired to drive to see him during his overnight shifts. At least I knew he was well-fed.

Finally! A day off! I went to see him during his shift, which had a ton of downtime. We were fucking around in the break room. Out of habit more than anything, I popped open the freezer door as he shouted, "No! Don't!" It was too late. There they were. All my precious dinners that I worked so hard over, all stacked in their gladware, in neat little rows. Broccoli casserole graveyard. My eyes teared. I was not a stepford wife after all.

I slowly turned to my man, who blurted out, "Gosh, you look good. You're very, very cute." That was enough to ease the tension. We both laughed- I cried a little bit.

tl;dr Granny was wrong. The way to a man's heart is blowjobs.

worst

My ex made some pasta with a homemade sauce. Well, it looked good, but the moment I brought it to my mouth I could sense there was something wrong. It was the strangest combination of flavors I've ever experienced. She put Chinese five spice, cinnamon, chives, cloves, garlic powder, onion power, nutmeg, basically every spice she owned, also a metric fuck-ton of salt and a bunch of hot peppers and fruits and vegetables she had lying around.

I ate as much as I could, then grabbed a bottle of wine and suggested we watch a movie to get out of finishing. I lasted thirty minutes after "dinner" before my body rejected the "food" I'd just eaten. It was torture going in and coming out. I did the dishes after I emptied my body and threw out all the left overs (she made enough to feed a small village) I told her I spilled it while I was cleaning up. Anyway, that sauce still haunts me, the pasta was cooked nicely though, I guess she had that going for her...

beginpanicsequence

I rented a room in a nice house a while back, and I had a wonderful Filipina landlord who was very generous to her tenants. As is Filipino culture apparently, it is imperative that everyone under your roof is well-fed at all times. So it was great, a constant supply of cooked rice, tellapia, sausage, as well as some of the more exotic Filipino foods. I actually liked the blood soup, and my tastebuds have beholden the glorious taste of beef glazed with peanut butter. Even had a couple belut, which is a hard boiled duck egg with a partially grown fetus inside, so you get a little crunchy surprise.

But the one thing she cooked that knocked me over and I just could not for the life of me finish was a fish casserole. I was always appreciative of food I received, and her being a direct Filipino immigrant, I knew there was hell to pay one way or another if somebody finds a free meal unsatisfactory. The first bite was just such a surprise, an explosion of fishy taste with an overabundance of salt that immediately dehydrated my mouth. It was absolutely inedible.

I was hoping somebody would point out that something was wrong, but I then just assumed that maybe I got a pocket of concentrated juices and salt that just congealed in a corner like satan's jello. Everyone around me was enjoying it normally, I just had to have gotten a bad piece.

So I took a bite from the other end of the piece. And it was even worse. Even saltier, even fishier, it was like somebody compressed Dutch Harbor into a diabolical marble of antimatter and I just chomped down into it. I really was about to throw up, the fish smell was just overpowering.

I took that second bite. That was the most polite thing I will ever do for another human being in my life. I then pretend to check my phone, and pretend that I got an urgent text from a friend, and excuse myself. But I know I can't just leave the fish casserole sitting there uneaten while I cower away hungry and coughing up salt in my room. So in a wild gambit I say, "Hey, I gotta take this, but you don't mind if I finish this...over in my, uh...room?"

My landlord smiles warmly, that welcoming wonderful grin. "Sure, go ahead dear." And now I feel even worse. She just wants to see me happy and she's so loving to all her tenants and I'm about to be a huge asshole by lying to her and privately disposing of that casserole without her finding out.

But I take another look at that dish. The smell hits me again. Logical thinking and empathy are out the door, Darwinian instinct takes over, and I do what I must.

Ten minutes later, as I'm hearing dishes clearing out, I make my move. I duck into the shared bathroom with my plate in hand, locking the door behind me. I've cut it up into three pieces, and three flushes later (with plenty of Febreeze sprayed around the toilet) it is gone. I duck back into my room, count to 10, then come back out with empty plate in hand.

"Ah, hey!" My landlord notices. "You ate it all in ten minutes? Here, I can get you another if you want."

Jesus Christ, come on. I already lied to this wonderful woman once and defiled both her cooking and the shared bathroom. I have to lie to her again!?

I have to lie to her again.

"Yeah sorry, my friend's having some girlfriend issues," I lie through my teeth, "I uhh..." The idea hits me. "I have to go give him some company."

"Okay!" My landlord warmly smiles again, erroneously thinking about such a good man I am. "If you get too drunk to drive, call me I can drive you home safe."

I drove off. I went three blocks down the main road, pulling into a Jack in the Box, and ordered a burger and curly fries. All the while, feeling crippled with guilt and self-loathing. Just imagining her face if she found out I flushed a meal she worked so hard on to feed me out of the kindness of her own heart, that I ditched her at the table of her own meal on a fabricated lie, just to see her warm welcoming smile fade into a disappointed saddened scowl, it was overwhelming my psyche.

I was just too chickenshit to honestly say "Thank you very much but this is actually too salty and fishy for my own tastes, somebody else could have my piece if they wish." And because of the guilt, the disappointment in myself, and that pitiful attempt as misguided politeness, that burger and curly fries was the worst meal I ever ate.

jackytransexual

Chicken feet. When I was in elementary school my good friend was Chinese and his family made a lot of traditional foods. So one night I was over there and had chicken feet and not wanting to be impolite, even though I thought it tastes terrible I said "oh man this is so good!"

Fast forward to a year after we graduated college. We were both back in town and decided to meet up at his families house for dinner.

His mom made a special meal of chicken feet because she remembered how much I liked them. Once again I lied and said they were delicious. They were not. Still terrible.

TLDR; ate chicken feet twice 14 years apart because my mom raised me to be too polite to say they were gross.

alfredhelix

While not a meal, but when I was a kid, I begged for AGES to have creamed corn. I don't know why it was bad or how it had gone off, but I remember sitting at the middle seat of the table, so stoked about my creamed corn that I went for it first. It tasted fucking awful. So bad, that I didn't eat creamed corn again for years after that. Being the great child I was, I choked it all down, because I would have felt like such an asshole if I didn't.

When my parents finally got around to having theirs, they realized the corn was unfit for consumption, looked bashfully at me, and asked how it was. I nodded, and they proceeded to inform me that the corn had gone bad, and I shouldn't have eaten it. Through my embarrassment, I said I didn't want them to be mad at me for going through the trouble of finally making it, and then me not eating it.

My mom was extremely apologetic, and said they wouldn't be mad at me if I didn't eat food that spoiled. I think they both felt super embarrassed for having ignored my request for so long and then presenting me with food poisoning in a bowl.

DJFiregirl

Stayed at a friends place when I was in middle school. All she did was rave about how awesome her mom's banana pancakes were, and how nobody could resist them. Morning comes, and I'm served with a pancake burned to a crisp on the outside (nearly black).

I took one bite into it, and come to discover not only is the mix on the inside raw and uncooked, but the mushy, pulverized banana was not ripe... at all. I had to swallow huge bites without chewing (almost vomiting the entire time) to get through my one pancake. Later I remembered that when she told me about the pancakes she mentioned how people "inhaled them". I can only assume this is because they didn't want to be impolite and had to get it down before it could come back up.

Kit-the-cat

Not me, but my father. My father had a friend that had recently gotten engaged to a really nice woman that my father described as "the worst cook in the world".

One afternoon he was invited over to their home for lunch. He went over to see his friend, but when he was offered lunch, which was pork chops and mashed potatoes, he declined and made up that something was wrong with his mouth so he couldn't eat (I think he said either wisdom teeth or a root canal). The fiancé felt bad that they'd be eating in front of my dad and didn't want him to be hungry...so she put the pork chops and mashed potatoes into a blender for him.

My dad said he drank it because he didn't know what else to do, he didn't want to admit he lied and he didn't want to hurt her feelings. He said he nearly vomited with every sip and as of today it's still been the worst thing he's ever eaten/drank.

Edit: Just talked to my dad. I was wrong, it was steak, mashed potatoes, corn and peas. I honestly don't know if that's worse or better.

IHateMyParrot

A person I know made, what she called, "gumbo". It was every leftover in the fridge from the month dumped into a pot and cooked, them served over noodles.

When she served it, the taste was awful. She had Italian meals, Mexican meals, soups, steaks, chicken, every veggie imaginable, fruit, bread stuff, etc.

The first time I forced it down. The second time I just couldn't because I saw inside her fridge before she cooked the monstrosity. Her fridge looked like a science experiment gone wrong.

Meat (or maybe cake?), cucumber bits floating in liquid, yellowed potato and macaroni salad, something that had purple fur growing on it... I have no idea what some of the stuff was. It was so gross!

dotchianni

When I was travelling through the Mongolian desert, our host nomad family served us what they called Mongolian Barbecue. It is not what you find in American restaurants. What we got was goat and sheep bones covered in meat and thick slabs of fat. When I tried to get away with only eating the meat and leaving the pure fat behind, the Mongolian patriarch pointed at the fat and made it clear that it had to go down my throat. They had killed their own goats to cook it for us, so down the throat it went.

Bonus awfulness: One of the guys in my group was a vegetarian. Thankfully he was a trooper, and ate just as much meat as the rest of us. When in Rome... eat some fat.

twoeyedodin

Tamales

A long time ago we adopted a family in a really bad part of town for Christmas which basically meant we bought them presents and ate dinner with them and whatnot. I enjoyed it.

Anywho. We get to this place and the smell of these tamales is permeating through the house. The only problem is they're really really bad tamales. Like bad husks with bad meat and a bad cream sauce on top.

So we sit down for dinner, have our 45 minute prayer and start eating. The lady who made them looks so proud of them, I couldn't help but pretend that they were the best goddamn thing I had ever eaten in my entire life.

The only thing they had to drink was Sunny Delight, I wondered if the lady saw me cram a giant fork-full in my mouth and then take a huge gulp of sunny-d to keep the gagging at a minimum.

When we got up to leave, I told her I MUST have one for the road. We drove about 5 minutes out of the bad part of town, I pulled over and yacked up a tamale and sunny delight slushie. I have yet to drink Sunny-D or eat another tamale since.

Somewhere I have a photo that they took of all of us sitting for dinner, a fake smile plastered on my face with the eyes of someone who is being forced to eat their loved ones bodies.

Good memories.

mcfuddlebutt

I am not a vegetarian, let alone a vegan, but I can dig basic grains and stuff. I went to Cafe Gratitude where a friend suggested we meet for breakfast. Spent $70 on the worst breakfast of my entire life. My veggie-loving girlfriend even hated it. I ordered a cinnamon roll, and it was like eating sadness disguised as cardboard.

Edit: when you order, you don't tell them what you want, you have to use the name of the item as a self-description. For example, if you want the ginger ale, which is called "Effervescent", you have to say, "I am effervescent", and then when they bring it to you they drop it off and say "You are effervescent!" and smile at you. I'm getting angry just thinking about it again.

Sevorus

Sweet peas my wife cooked.

She used a pot that apparently still had dishwashing soap residue on it from a new brand of soap she was trying. Apparently that particular brand has a thicker soap than others and didn't rinse off completely. Her father was over and she made his favorite meal as a surprise. Ranch spiced pork chops, buttered croissant rolls, sweet peas and garlic mashed potatoes. He and I sat down and starting eating and both noticed that the peas tasted...uh...soapy. We looked at each other as if in recognition (of the taste) and agreement (to not say a word). These peas tasted awful, but my wife can be very emotional and we weren't going to say a thing.

My wife finished making our daughters plate, then her own and finally sat down to eat. She got probably 2 bites into the peas, said they tasted like dish soap and then asked us what we thought. We agreed with her, eyes down like scolded school children and she proceeded to ask why the fuck we were still eating them if they tasted like that. Then we felt scolded even more, on top of our blatant ignorance in her eyes. Even our daughter started to eat them, not wanting to mention the taste because mommy had been working so hard on that meal for all of us.

The peas went in the trash, and we finished the meal. Her father burst out laughing at her reaction. Still to this day, when my wife tells our daughter that we are having sweet peas, she asks if they are the soapy kind or regular.

Edit : Basically, in my mind my wife had never, and I do mean never, cooked a bad meal. She had been working so hard to make a great meal for her fathers visit, and for me by extension. What right did I have to spoil that for her? That was my reasoning.

DreamOnFire

On a meditation retreat at a Buddhist monastery, I had some food I could barely handle. First, there are monastic rules that forbid eating after noon, so on a retreat people will eat as the monks do. This means breakfast, lunch, then fasting unitl breakfast the next day. Naturally, most of us would load up our plates for lunch well aware this was going to be what held us over for the rest of the day. The food was generally good - some Asian cuisine, some American.

One particular day, a southeast asian family brought food for the entire 30(?) person retreat as well as the monks as part of a celebration and donation, quite a generous gift. I had no idea what anything was, but I loaded my plate up as usual and sat down to eat. It was a bit spicy. I was sweating. Some bites actually tasted more like chemicals and fire than food. It might have even been 'good' if that's your thing, but I'm a guy that struggles with jalapeno poppers sometimes.

But everything the monastery was providing was for free, and everything the monastery received was through donations. It would be quite rude to not finish my plate. Even more so since this family had just provided an entire buffet for 40 people. I managed to get it all down with about 2 gallons of water. And I was sincerely thankful to the family for their generosity.... but god damn that was difficult to eat. It wasn't a matter of anything being "gross" rather that it was painful. Surprisingly didn't have any stomach issues later in the day though.

on_my_lunch_break

Bless her heart. My MIL, prior to marrying her son invited us to dinner. My husband had mentioned growing up how he cooked meals for her and made menus, I figured because she was a busy working single mom. Well that was part of it but it was because he couldn't tolerate her cooking. So here we go... She made chicken, and green beans.

Or at least it started as such. The chicken was dryer than sand. Even the skin was like a bouncy ball. The green beans were grey. GREY. They kind of disintegrated in my mouth. I didn't comment on the food. On the ride home my husband brought it up and said how hungry he was then I broke silence. I decided then I would learn to cook, I didn't want to do that to anyone once I was of age and hosting dinners.

mfwater

Nobody will get to this but I gotta tell this story. I was taken to a Chinese restaurant by a friend. I can't remember the exact type of cuisine but the restaurant was supposed to be like home cooking. One dish were these deep fried wrinkled tube shaped things in a bowl.

I asked my friend what it was and he said "I don't know how to explain it but it's part of the inside of the pig...you should try it."

My response was "sure! I'll try anything...besides, it's deep fried, how bad can it be?"

I tossed one of those fuckers into my mouth and started chewing. For about 3 seconds it tasted fine until this blast of what smelled like shit - yes literally shit, overwhelmed my sense of taste and smell. I kept grinding away and and swallowed and grabbed a glass of water to help relieve the taste but the stench of feces was still in my mouth for the rest of the evening...no matter what I ate. I found out later that the dish was deep fried pig intestines and sometimes you get pieces that basically go all the way to the exit point and as a bonus sometimes pieces "aren't as clean as they should be".

macabre_irony

We used to have to go eat once a week at my in laws house, and every week was a disgusting adventure of sadness. One of the first weeks, my ex MIL made chili, and being from Texas I was excited to hear that's what was for dinner. Except this chili was made by pouring a bottle of ketchup into a saucepan and adding ground beef. It was basically ketchup soup.

Another week, the FIL grilled steaks, and my hopes were quickly dashed when I told him I liked mine medium rare and was quickly informed that everyone got theirs the same way, well done. Not just well done, burnt to a crisp, drier than the Sahara, done. Other things were just weird, smothering pork chops with mustard, deep frying EVERYTHING. I have some wicked IBS so each week was like a trip to a torture chamber for my guts. Oh and I didn't eat this one, but once the MIL apparently bought tins of a seafood medley cat food and made sandwiches with it to serve at a potluck, labeling them "seafood sandwiches" because she thought it sounded fancy.

I_Am_Max_Headroom

It would have to be my mother's vegetarian re-imagining of lasagna. She had gotten the bright idea somewhere to replace the noodles with eggplant slices, remove the tomato sauce completely, and change the traditionally used cheeses to "healthier" alternatives of cheese (e.g. using cottage cheese).

Had it been served as a dish under its own name, like some kind of "eggplant casserole" perhaps, it would have simply been horrid. But to a child that was promised one of their favorite foods and received a watery lump of white/green mush it was far and away the worst possible meal someone could come up with.

Since I'm getting a lot of replies about this let me be clear: the swapping of the eggplant for noodles was incidental to the going vegetarian part. Yes, my mother is aware cheese is made from animal products. No, my mother does not think tomatoes or noodles are animals. No, adding dairy does not disqualify something from being vegetarian. Thank you to those concerned enough to check that my mother isn't an idiot. And stop telling me about frying eggplants and adding it to lasagna. I get it, it's delicious.

8132134558914

I lived in Kenya for a few years, and I ate so many things that could fit into this category. Off the top of my head:

Omena (fish) with Ugali. The Ugali isn't bad, the fish...terrible. The worst part is that everywhere you walked in that neighborhood, you would see tarps full of this fish that were set out to dry. Merchants would spend their entire day beating away the flies so the fish could dry without flies on them.

Undercooked chicken. It gave me food poisoning. I had to eat it because it was offered to me. When I saw it was undercooked, I saw the children in the family sitting there watching me. They had to go hungry so I could eat the chicken. I did. The food poisoning was so bad, it's one of the few times in my life where I almost would have preferred to die.

I've got a lot more food stories. Wouldn't mind sharing more if there was interest. I'm probably too late to the discussion though.

ericgcollyer

Back in my Mormon days I was on my mission. My companion and I went to visit a friend and he wasn't home but his Bulgarian mother was. She insisted she cook us dinner and we tried to decline as politely as possible as they weren't well off and they could use the food more than us.

Whelp, she made us goat testicles and onions. I normally had a plastic bag in my jacket pocket to hide food in if it was too nasty. No luck, she sat down across from us and starting eating cookies. Not wanting to be rude and waste food that she could've used... I choked it all down. Felt like I had Joe Rogan yelling in my ear. And then it turned out my companion barely touched his.

Worst meal ever, but she was the sweetest old Bulgarian lady I've ever met.

Zerod0wn

When I was in 8th grade I slept over at a friend's house one night. We were playing games upstairs and hanging out, getting hungry, when we hear her mom call us down for dinner. Enchiladas, my favorite! As I walked down the stairs I get a very strong whiff of what smells like cat pee.

I just thought it was the stairs, but as we got closer to the kitchen the smell kept getting stronger and I was getting more nervous with each step. Sitting down at the table confirmed my worst fear, the enchiladas smelled so strongly of cat pee. I don't know why but they did. The whole family remarks how good it smells and fucking digs in and I just kinda sat there, mumbled something about how I wasn't too hungry and pushed it around my plate as best I could. I went home the next day starving.

Alternatively, when I was young my mom made some crockpot chicken dish. Now, she's usually an amazing cook, but this time something went horribly wrong. My sister and I sit down and start eating, realize that it's gross, feel horribly for not liking it, so we both would take teeny bites and wash it down with soda. Like a pill. So my mom finally sits down and takes one bite and immediately spits it out. She looked over at us and saw our faces and was just like, "get in the car were going to Del Taco."

Gettingburritos

Not me, but my son in law. My grandmother (we're white, this will be important later) makes this wild layered dip with curried cream cheese, chutney, smoked almonds, bacon, and green onions, you scoop it up with Fritos, getting some of all of the layers in your scoop, it really sounds bizarre but is absolutely delicious, as long as you like curry.

At family events she gets really really worked up over "did you try my dip?! I made dip, I'm not too old to contribute you know!" 90 years old with a chip on her shoulder, I've seen my future, I can't wait.

Anyway at thanksgiving one year she notices my son in law Juan (who is, as you may have guessed, Mexican) had not eaten any of the aforementioned dip as he does not like curry. So she grabs a cracker (not a Frito, it's got to be Frito's!) And heaps it with a giant scoop that somehow manages to bypass all the other ingredients and is nothing other than a ginormous pile of cream cheese mixed with curry, shrieks "your people like spicy food, don't they!?" And shoves the cracker into his mouth.

He stands there, cheeks puffed out chewing as quickly as possible so he could swallow it and rid his mouth of it as quickly as possible, while Nana stands there, beaming, waiting for him to say how much he likes it. He finally is able to choke out "oh yeah, that's really good..." Juan is a keeper.

Pullsn0punches

I grew up poor, in a poor neighborhood. My neighbors were about 20 mexicans in a 2br, they all picked tomatoes for a living. I played with the two kids, we ran around the neighborhood every day after school.

Once, I was with them when the boy came up to me with something very special. Apparently tortillas from scratch had just been made. My 2 friends were beyond excited. I was bestowed with my very own, very special, tortilla.

I ate mine rolled up, like the other kids. It was the driest thing ever. As they went on and on about how delicious it was, I was biting my tongue to get more saliva so I wouldn't choke.

At 9 yrs old and I was an unforgiving picky eater, I would go hungry without dinner if an adult ever called my bluff. I would rather go hungry.

But I ate that tortilla, a food I'd never had before, which dried my mouth and really confused my taste buds. And no adult made me!

FirstyouMakeAPaste

Visited my grandma a few years ago and had her breakfast special: chip beef on toast.

For anybody who isn't familiar with it, it's like the Midwestern version of biscuits and gravy. It's a white gravy with chunks of salty dried beef served over toasted white bread. It isn't the best dish in the world, but grandpa likes it.

We sat down to eat breakfast and noticed the gravy was much thinner than usual. Grandma is over 80 with Parkinson's, so nobody would dare say anything. We start eating the breakfast and it tastes disgustingly sweet. Eventually she realized something was wrong too.

She accidentally switched her flour and powdered sugar containers.

Almost nobody finished the meal, except my uncle who was a real champ and went back for seconds. That was the day he became the favorite in-law.

DammitBobbyy

Ex gf came from an EXTREMELY poor family. She was very smart so she got out and became moderately successful, she was on good terms with her family so we went there for dinner.

Appetizers: Bread and butter. Not bad, right? WRONG. The bread was served with missing pieces. I didn't say anything (I'm not very confrontational, even in harmless situations like this) but I must have appeared concerned. "Oh, haha! Yeah the bread was a bit past the BS fresh date so we just cut out the weird colored parts." Says her mother (btw, they were nice enough,just gross). OKAY, GOT SERVED MOLD BREAD, COOL,

Dinner: 99 cent deli meat and oatmeal oats. Not even fucking oatmeal. Just the oats. What the fuck.

Dessert. Seriously, the mom brought out a plate of chocolate syrup, guess what was surrounding the syrup? THE MOLDY FUCKING BREAD. I was in awe. I loved her so I ate all of that shit and acted like nothing was amiss. But I cannot believe one bit, we were drinking fancy liquor, like expensive shit. But this meal, I can't believe they'd think it is acceptable to torture your guests like that. Although I have worked at a liquor store in Detroit and most people come in with food stamps, buy there kids the cheapest groceries, haggle for 50 cents, then buy the most expensive liquors we have.

fuckfucknoose

While living in Missoula MT, environmental activist friends of ours invited us to dinner at their new place. We went over and they showed us around and while one of them finished up cooking in the kitchen.

Dinner was served! We hungrily gathered around the table and took our seats. We put down our beers and dug right into the beef stroganoff and side of vegetables. A couple of bites in, I'm noticing something a bit, let's say, "off" about the food. I say to my hosts, "Mmm. Thanks for the awesome meal!" One of them replies, "You're welcome.

But, it was free! We dumpster dove for every item on our plates! Pretty unbelievable, huh?" I gagged. As I looked back down to my plate, I realized that every single ingredient was semi rotten and obtained from the mess of a dumpster.

Even just the smell of the white sauce sliming its way across the turned beef stroganoff made me feel sweaty and dizzy with nausea. My boyfriend shot me a sickened glance of hell and we both just moved things around while choking down the most soupy mix of semi putrid food I've ever eaten.

devadog

Mexico and its people should not have a monopoly on the burrito business. OK? Mexico is killing us in the burrito business. They are laughing at us because we don't even put up a fight in this country. Some of their burritos are just terrible, the worst.

When Mexico sends its burritos they are not sending us their best. We're getting old burritos, smelly burritos, we're coming down with salmonella, and some - I assume - are good burritos. When I talk to my Hispanic friends they tell me, "Donald. You need to do something about Mexico and their burritos. Their burritos are just awful. So bad. We need someone like you to do something about that country's burrito problem because right now, they're finding their way across our border and no one is stopping them. And what's worse, is that America is falling behind to Mexico in the burrito-making business. Donald, I'm tellin' ya, we need to make burritos great again."

You know what? He was so right. So right. I promised my friend that if elected president, I will not only hit Mexico with economic sanctions and issue a temporary ban on their burrito-making until we can figure out what the hell is going on, but I will go further than that, much further. If elected president, I will not only hire American workers to build more Taco Bells here in America, but I will make Mexico pay for them. That's right.

I will build the best Taco Bells that this country has ever seen and I will make the Mexican government pay for them. My good friend Carl Icahn asked me the other day after I told him about my plans, "Donald, how will you make Mexico pay for those Taco Bells and how will you get so many built during your first term?". You know what I told him, folks? I said, "Carl. I'm Donald Trump.

I do two things better than any man on this planet. Do you know what I do better than anyone, Carl? Do you know what I do? I build and I make deals. That's what I do. Nobody, I mean nobody, does better deals or builds buildings better than I do."

As president, my first act will be to build hundreds of new Taco Bells across America and I will personally inspect dozens of them myself during what will be this country's first ever annual Taco Bell Tour. It's gonna be yuge. You watch. I will make burritos great again and I'll do it with American workers right here in America. Thank you, thank all of you great people, and God bless America.

SpeakLikeAChild04

Let me start by saying I fucking love Thanksgiving turkey. My family looks for reasons to grill a bird. So when I meet this cute girl, she said she hated turkey with a passion, I could not understand why. That was until I was invited to their Thanksgiving dinner.

Her mom oven roasted this poor turkey. Now normally I would hesitate on a oven roasted turkey because it can dry out easy. What I can say is I still was hopeful and did not want her family to hate me. I knew something was wrong. My turkey senses were tingling as i was watching her saw off the meat of this gas chamber turkey. What could best be described as turkey dust was collecting on the carving plate.

I hesitantly grabbed a fair chunk of dark meat, knowing it's normally a bit juicer. I also even went one step further I covered it in gravy. I thought I was ready but I was not. As I started to chew my first bite I could feel the turkey suckling up the saliva in my mouth like a vacuum. I was desperate so I took a sip of water to little avail, but I could now chew it a little more. I had to repeat the process of taking 2 or 3 drinks of water per bite of turkey. I would say we have all experienced dry turkey. Normally if there is some flavor it's not so bad, but it was also bland.

And since the skin more or less resembled potato chips I had to get creative with downing the rest by means of mixing it with every side. The effect was disappointment in every bite for the entire meal, but I finished the piece. I said thank you for the meal and silently said a prayer for the bird and I'm not even religious but I felt if there was a God he should have mercy on this meal. Later, as I'm driving with my girlfriend home she said she watched something change in my eyes that day out of despair. I could not find it in me to argue with that statement.

velcona

I was on a mission for my church in England. A newly married couple invited us to tea (dinner). I was given my plate first: baked chicken and potatoes in some sauce. I bit into my chicken and instantly I could tell it was raw. To the point of actually being borderline cold in the middle.

It was just cooked outer flesh and raw inner flesh. Everyone else started on other items, then I saw a few poke at the chicken and avoid it. The wife was looking at me since I was the only one eating the chicken. Sensing it, I quickly ate the entire price of chicken, which took some serious swallowing-while-avoiding-gagging-skills.

A few moments after I finished my chicken, the husband attempted to eat his, at which point he whispered to his wife. She got very red, then looked at everyone and apologized, saying the chicken wasn't done and to hand it back... Then her eyes got wide (they were tearing up before this point), and she said "[tycegn], you ate your entire piece raw?" I responded with something about t tasting fine, and she started to look horrified that I would do that to spare her feelings. Then her husband broke out laughing and it quickly spread. They couldn't stop making fun of my dedication to being polite about dinner.

TyceGN

I don't eat seafood. I can't eat seafood. The taste makes me want to puke. Yes, I know, I suck at eating but that's how it is with me.

That being said, years ago my family threw a dinner for me years ago before I left the country to study. We went to a very fancy Chinese restaurant. I was cringing the whole time, because despite knowing me all my life, my relatives simply could not fathom that I didn't eat seafood. They'd be like "Whaaat? Not even prawns?" And I'd have to gingerly admit it again.

So, the main course arrived. A big ol' steamed fish. I was doing fine with the pork and chicken, but this was the star of the show apparently. And since I was the 'subject' of the dinner, my uncle decided to bestow the night's highest honour on me by cutting off the fishes head and placing it on my plate, before I could say a damn thing.

God, those eyes staring up at me. The smell! And that fucking douche uncle and relatives looking at me expectantly, waiting for me claim my prize. I held my breath and just cut off a piece and swallowed it. Mentally blacked out. I think I managed to eat a few bites before surrendering it to the person next to me.

Till this day, as an act of petty revenge, whenever we go out to a western restaurant, I make sure to order a steak, to the horror of my family (Hindus). And then I say "Hold up... you guys don't eat beef???"

ImmortanJoe