Pretty or Puky? The Eye of the Beholder

My workplace hosted a dessert event last evening, and I was one of several people who agreed to provide goodies. I made carrot cake muffins—from a mix, plus a few mix-ins. Ben and Pearl “helped” by putting paper liners in the cupcake pan. When they had finished the job, Ben asked: “Who’s gonna put in that puky stuff?” He was referring to the burnt-orange batter, lumpy with bits of carrot, raisins and crushed pineapple. It was a classic case of something tasting better than it looks.

As a child, I remember hearing about a blind man who regained his sight and requested his favorite food right away. He was reportedly repulsed and deeply disappointed by the appearance of pizza. The prospect of seeing pizza as anything but yummy startled me. It was one of my earliest lessons in the power of perception. I had come to associate the colors, shapes and textures of bread, sauce, cheese and pepperoni with delight—a delicious, satisfying supper I enjoyed with my family. And actually, pizza was more than a mere meal.

In those days, pizza meant payday. Dad got paid every other Friday during the school year, which almost always triggered trips to the Pop Shoppe and Suzy’s Pizzeria. For our family, soft drinks and restaurant-prepared food were treats—treats that put everyone in a good mood. So, even though I eventually acknowledged the blind man’s initial appraisal of pizza as unpleasant to look at, I still see it as a thing of beauty—literally, figuratively and culinarily. (Is that a word? It is now!)

The carrot cake muffins were pretty tasty, too.