Pass the octopus, please. A friend and I were dining recently at a Mediterranean cafe, and as she handed me the bowl, it occurred to me how odd those words would have sounded coming from me 20 years ago. As a 7-year-old finicky eater, I never, ever, not in a hundred-bajillion years would have ever uttered such a thing. Octopus? Gross!
As a child, I was addicted to chicken tenders and fries. The few vegetables I would eat came from cans. And all sandwiches, from PB&Js to turkey, were