The worst thing I ever tasted--Bird and I both did--was some herbal tea, a sort of fertility tonic, at a Chinese medicine storefront in San Francisco's Chinatown. That swill tasted like rotten tree bark, worms, moldy cheese, feces, and rancid brackish water, all at the same time. Makes me queasy just thinking about raising another cup of that to my mouth. If I want to hear her groan in the a.m. hours, I can always get her going by asking her if I can brew her a cup of fertility tea. Three years ago one early morning when she was feeling nauseated and I didn't realize it, I asked her if she wanted some fertility tea, and it put her over the edge and make her hurl. Now I make sure she's in well health before I gross her out. The association with that tea really was that strong, though.

Appenzeller. Peee yewwww. FBR, some guy at our gourmet market assured Bird one day that Appenzeller was just like Gruyere and would be great in a gratin. She was making something au gratin, which is usually excellent the way she does it. She brought that nasty stuff home, unwrapped it and was starting to grate it. She called me in there, "Hey, honey, does this smell like gruyere to you?" The odor had permeated the kitchen. We had to throw out that stuff--even her vacuum cleaner dog wouldn't get near it--and use cheddar that day. Nasty stuff, that.