The Catalyst

I think I was about six years old when my grandma was visiting my family in Buenos Aires. My mom had started working by that time, and there was no nanny to cook for me, so she decided to take on the task.

In Argentina we have these potato balls that are breaded and deep-fried that we call "Bombas de Papa." The literal translation of the name is: Potato bombs. They are a favorite of mine, and as such my grandma decided to make them for me; except she had a little trick up her sleeve.

When I first sat down and was served, the bombas de papa looked ordinary. They were browned, but not too browned. They were crunchy to the fork, but not too crunchy. The center had melted cheese which was something my grandma used to always do for me- what tastes better than deep fried potatoes? deep-fried cheese. So without any hesitation I put a piece in my mouth. Well, what came next was an automatic reflex that I still succumb to even today. I gagged. Something was fishy about these bombas de papa.

I told my grandma that there was something wrong with them. I told her that they tasted strangely. She didn't believe me. She even tried one herself and said that they tasted like any other bomba de papa she's had, and she's made. Still, with a little more persistence she finally let me in on a little secret. The verdulero (produce guy) had sold her some potatoes that were about to expire to save some money. She was retired after all. So, if I wanted to, she would make me something else, but she didn't want to waste the potatoes. I refused to eat them, and I equally refused for her to have to cook something else. After all Bombas de papa were already too much work.

Later on that afternoon my mom and my Grandma got into an argument. That is when I learned a little secret that my grandma had kept from me. She had used a special ingredient. She had used fish.

Ever since then I've refused to eat, drink, or smell anything that even tastes, or smells remotely fishy. I guess that's the catalyst that made me gay. :-)