I’ve been told that if you eat seven olives in a row, you will grow to love them. I haven’t pulled through yet (two seems to be my limit) so I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but I guess that’s why I keep trying. I very much want to be a person who likes olives. And capers. It seems urbane and mature. Can I really call myself a foodie if I don’t like that kind of stuff?
So with that said, I have to be honest with you. These fish cakes weren’t all that. I’m sure it would have been fine if I’d just kept it simple: salmon, cod, egg and shallots for the cakes. Asparagus with parmesan and the lemon garlic sauce with dill as compliments. But my damn respect for them cookbook authorities made me put that caper-shit it in there along with way too much anchovies. Because the recipe said so. If I leave out an ingredient I don’t like, I immediately feel guilty, because what if someone else might like it? It doesn’t seem fair those urbane, mature olive-lovers should suffer for my inadequacy. Who am I to bereave them of their capers?
But then again, they would never know, would they? No, seriously, would they?