You know that meal that made you want to spit out your food like a toddler? These are worse, 24 of the grossest meals people have been forced to eat to be polite.
A True Leftover
“My wife was out of town on business and so some friends asked me if I’d like to join them for dinner. I said, “oh, thank you but it’s ok, I can fend for myself” and my friend’s wife replied, “really, it’s no problem, we’re just throwing together some leftovers.” Ok, fine, sounds great. I arrive at their house and we sit down for dinner and I served a BLT sandwich. With a bite taken out of it. Like, someone had made a sandwich, taken one bite, decided not to eat it, put it back in the fridge and now I was being served it as a leftover. F’ing WEIRD”
Maybe You’re Thirsty
“Not me, but my father. My father had a friend that had recently gotten engaged to a really nice woman that my father described as “the worst cook in the world”. One afternoon he was invited over to their home for lunch. He went over to see his friend, but when he was offered lunch, which was pork chops and mashed potatoes, he declined and made up that something was wrong with his mouth so he couldn’t eat (I think he said either wisdom teeth or a root canal). The fiancé felt bad that they’d be eating in front of my dad and didn’t want him to be hungry…so she put the pork chops and mashed potatoes into a blender for him. My dad said he drank it because he didn’t know what else to do, he didn’t want to admit he lied and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He said he nearly vomited with every sip and as of today it’s still been the worst thing he’s ever eaten/drank.”
It’s Nothing Like The Real Thing
“Vegan mac and cheese. Tasted like creamy mustard that’s been sitting in a alleyway on a hot summer day. Person who made it said, and I quote “Wow! It tastes just like the real thing!” No, f— no. You forgot what cheese tastes like, you -3 Michelin star chef”
Eat It, Son
“This is also the first meal I ate out of politeness. It was in super rural New Hampshire in 1989. I was eleven and visiting relatives I had never met before with my Grandpa. They were his age, around 55, no kids. The wife seemed very stern although in hindsight I just wasn’t used to New Englanders. I actually learned over the years that she was a wonderful human being. We go to sit for lunch and it is gristly sliced canned ham with the jelly still on it, raw onions, and tomato aspic. I would be ok with this now but eleven year old me was disgusted. Grandpa saw me pucker up and whisper-shouted in my ear, “This is the best they can afford. Eat.” I ate.”
Do Your Duty
“My mother was having a bad day once; we’re talking lose-your-s—-and-cry bad. Literally everything she planned was going wrong, and, in her mind, the house was falling apart. Anyway, Dad gets home from work late, and Mom is making dinner. This dinner is going to be the one thing that she gets right today. This dinner is going to be her lifeline to not have a nervous breakdown. It’s quiche. My mother, a fantastic cook, has never made quiche, but was determined to succeed at something this hellish day. We set the table, and she brings the dish out, hands nearly shaking, disheveled, on the verge of tears, and says, “Here we go!” Imagine a sponge, slightly moist, with a hint of cheese and limp vegetables. That was this quiche; it was…terrible. We all knew it, all 5 sons and dad. However, mom has never made food that wasn’t great, and we knew it wasn’t her fault, so we’re happy to choke it down. We finish and quickly as possible, and loudly proclaim, “Mmmmmm, that was great, Mom! Thank you!” Knowing we’re not boys to leave food on the table, she happily says, “Oh, get some more!” I’m the oldest, and in that moment my father and I made contact, and even though I was only 12, there was an understanding, a moment of clarity between us. He scooped up our plates and said, “Eat up, boys!” And led the charge. Not one piece of quiche was left. Partly because of our need to help mom, and partly because we couldn’t imagine it being leftover for the next day. Sometimes, with no words spoken, eating the bad really is the best option.”
“Sweet peas my wife cooked.
She used a pot that apparently still had dishwashing soap residue on it from a new brand of soap she was trying. Apparently that particular brand has a thicker soap than others and didn’t rinse off completely. Her father was over and she made his favorite meal as a surprise. Ranch spiced pork chops, buttered croissant rolls, sweet peas and garlic mashed potatoes. He and I sat down and starting eating and both noticed that the peas tasted…uh…soapy. We looked at each other as if in recognition (of the taste) and agreement (to not say a word). These peas tasted awful, but my wife can be very emotional and we weren’t going to say a thing. My wife finished making our daughters plate, then her own and finally sat down to eat. She got probably 2 bites into the peas, said they tasted like dish soap and then asked us what we thought. We agreed with her, eyes down like scolded school children and she proceeded to ask why the f— we were still eating them if they tasted like that. Then we felt scolded even more, on top of our blatant ignorance in her eyes. Even our daughter started to eat them, not wanting to mention the taste because mommy had been working so hard on that meal for all of us. The peas went in the trash, and we finished the meal. Her father burst out laughing at her reaction. Still to this day, when my wife tells our daughter that we are having sweet peas, she asks if they are the soapy kind or regular.”
The More Flavors The Better
“My ex made some pasta with a homemade sauce. Well, it looked good, but the moment I brought it to my mouth I could sense there was something wrong. It was the strangest combination of flavors I’ve ever experienced. She put Chinese five spice, cinnamon, chives, cloves, garlic powder, onion power, nutmeg, basically every spice she owned, also a metric f—ton of salt and a bunch of hot peppers and fruits and vegetables she had lying around. I ate as much as I could, then grabbed a bottle of wine and suggested we watch a movie to get out of finishing. I lasted thirty minutes after “dinner” before my body rejected the “food” I’d just eaten. It was torture going in and coming out. I did the dishes after I emptied my body and threw out all the left overs (she made enough to feed a small village) I told her I spilled it while I was cleaning up. Anyway, that sauce still haunts me, the pasta was cooked nicely though, I guess she had that going for her…”
Rib Were The Better Choice
“The day after thanksgiving, my wife and my father and I went out for the day. It started getting around dinner time and we’re about to head back and we pass a bbq truck. Ribs seem like a great idea. My dad calls my mom to see what she wants, but she says no, don’t get ribs, she’s been working in the kitchen all day on an amazing feast. So much for ribs. We get home and find that the amazing all day meal is turkey cheesecake. Stuffing for crust. Gravy and turkey and cream cheese blended together into a slurry and baked into the stuffing crust. Let me repeat that. Baked turkey slurry. We could have had ribs.”
“My dad was a Marine in Vietnam. Through some roundabout turn of events, he ended up being served cat by a lovely Vietnamese woman. He knew he had to be polite, so he ate it. He said it was very unsettling, texture-wise, because it was slimy. In the spirit of politeness, he told the woman he enjoyed it. And that, my friends, is how my dad then had to eat a second serving of cat.”
No Time To Stash The Gumbo
“A person I know made, what she called, “gumbo”. It was every leftover in the fridge from the month dumped into a pot and cooked, them served over noodles. When she served it, the taste was awful. She had Italian meals, Mexican meals, soups, steaks, chicken, every veggie imaginable, fruit, bread stuff, etc. The first time I forced it down. The second time I just couldn’t because I saw inside her fridge before she cooked the monstrosity. Her fridge looked like a science experiment gone wrong. Meat (or maybe cake?), cucumber bits floating in liquid, yellowed potato and macaroni salad, something that had purple fur growing on it… I have no idea what some of the stuff was. It was so gross!”
“The time I asked my crazy grandad for a glass of milk and he didn’t have any, so he mixed half & half and buttermilk. He was scary so I drank half before my dad noticed and rescued me.”
Goats Head Soup
“Steamed goats head in central Mexico when I was 14. I was on a mission trip with my church, and it would have been rude not to eat. I was repulsed.”
“Guinea pig on my last night in Peru. Two things made it worse than it had to have been, though. Spending the ten minutes before it was served to me with the sweet old woman who cooked it scrambling to explain the texture to me and finalizing with ‘bubble gum’. I made peace with that and thought to myself that it shouldn’t matter too much if the flavor isn’t horrible. Then it was served in front of me with fried, crispy skin dotted with at least a dozen tufts of fur.”
Worst Sandwich In The World
“When I first started dating my husband, we were watching a movie at his place and I told him I was hungry. I think he panicked and said he would try to make me a sandwich. For some reason, he didn’t think a normal turkey sandwich would suffice, so he microwaved two hot dogs and cut them in half, melted some mozzarella cheese, and added some turkey slices. I ate it but it was the worst sandwich I have ever had.”
Pocket The Evidence
“A few years ago I was eating dinner that a girl I was seeing made me. It was mutton, and in addition to not being very good, she had already given me a hard time for not eating “manly” enough. So I ended up just spitting pieces of meat into napkins when she wasn’t looking, and putting them in my pockets. By the end of the meal my pockets were crammed full of half chewed meat.”
Eat It Like A Caveman!
“Damn near raw bacon. One of my college roommates was just figuring out how to cook. He made an elaborate breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon – the bacon being prepared by waving it at the stovetop from a safe distance. He insisted it was perfectly cooked and, not wanting to be rude, I ate it all. It didn’t taste all that bad, but it had the mouthfeel of warmed rubber bands dipped in peanut oil.”
Like Eating Mace
“On a meditation retreat at a Buddhist monastery, I had some food I could barely handle. First, there are monastic rules that forbid eating after noon, so on a retreat people will eat as the monks do. This means breakfast, lunch, then fasting until breakfast the next day. Naturally, most of us would load up our plates for lunch well aware this was going to be what held us over for the rest of the day. The food was generally good – some Asian cuisine, some American. One particular day, a southeast asian family brought food for the entire 30(?) person retreat as well as the monks as part of a celebration and donation, quite a generous gift. I had no idea what anything was, but I loaded my plate up as usual and sat down to eat. It was a bit spicy. I was sweating. Some bites actually tasted more like chemicals and fire than food. It might have even been ‘good’ if that’s your thing, but I’m a guy that struggles with jalapeño poppers sometimes. But everything the monastery was providing was for free, and everything the monastery received was through donations. It would be quite rude to not finish my plate. Even more so since this family had just provided an entire buffet for 40 people. I managed to get it all down with about 2 gallons of water. And I was sincerely thankful to the family for their generosity…. but god damn that was difficult to eat. It wasn’t a matter of anything being “gross” rather that it was painful. Surprisingly didn’t have any stomach issues later in the day though.”
A Most Versatile Veggie
“My grandfather’s wife (step-grandmother) made an entire meal using nothing but cauliflower.”
A Deli Holiday
“When I was married to my first husband, we went to his brother’s house for Thanksgiving. His brother’s wife was “cooking”. I say “cooking” because she bought everything from a deli, prepared, and still managed to f— up most of it: She bought a whole, smoked turkey, and stuck it in the microwave, instead of reading the directions on it and putting it the oven. Needless to say, she dried it out. She also decided to nuke the sides (mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing) in the flimsy plastic containers that they came from in the deli, instead of into microwave safe containers; they ended up melting in the microwave. She bought a frozen pecan pie, which needed to be baked. She instead ignored the directions and let it thaw. It ended up being served as “pastry with praline sauce.” But at least she bought some nice brown-n-serve rolls…which she didn’t brown. She served ’em, though!”
“Not me but my father. My dad is a former Marine who isn’t picky. He’ll devour just about anything. But for some reason he HATES meatloaf. Absolutely despises it. My parents went to visit my mother’s aunt and uncle. They are from her biological family that she tracked down after 40 years. So my aunt to welcome and them makes this… fermented style of meat loaf that is basically a steaming pile of everything my father refuses to eat. But it’s the first time my mother has met anyone from her biological family. He didn’t want to offend them, So he stomached a piece by eating it as fast as he could… Cue my mother. “Look aunt Carol, he loves your meatloaf. I can never get him to eat mine…” Aunt Carol cuts off another big slab and puts it on his plate. He grins, and eats the second helping… My mother… is mean.”
50 Shades Of Grey
“Bless her heart. My mother in law, prior to me marrying her son invited us to dinner. My now-husband had mentioned growing up how he cooked meals for her and made menus, I figured because she was a busy working single mom. Well, that was part of it but it was because he couldn’t tolerate her cooking. So here we go… She made chicken, and green beans. Or at least it started as such. The chicken was dryer than sand. Even the skin was like a bouncy ball. The green beans were grey. GREY. They kind of disintegrated in my mouth. I didn’t comment on the food. On the ride home my husband brought it up and said how hungry he was then I broke silence. I decided then I would learn to cook, I didn’t want to do that to anyone once I was of age and hosting dinners.”
“my mother in-law’s lasagna. It is a crime. She used zucchini and cottage cheese. Coming from a very Italian family, her interpretation of lasagna offended my moral fiber.”
It’s A Delicacy in Colorado
“It wasn’t the meal in total, just one item included. Breaded bull testicles stuffed with apricots. I was dating an Iranian guy and was invited to a big dinner at his parent’s home to meet the family. His mother made cow’s tongue (it was OK, though I wasn’t fond of the texture) and apricot stuffed bull testicles. There were many other dishes that were actually quite tasty, but the testicles… Nope. Yet, because I was eager to make a good impression, and prove to his parents that I wasn’t a horrible white devil woman corrupting her son (even though I totally was) I ate everything they put on my plate without question or complaint – and even complimented his mother on her culinary prowess. His father, a semi-famous Persian author, was so impressed by me that at the end of the evening he gave me one of his out of print books, and signed it with a lovely dedication to me.”
Christmas Dinner in Poland.
“I’m Irish. My ex was Polish, and one year we spent Christmas with his family in Poland. In Ireland our Christmas dinner is usually turkey, ham, stuffing, potatoes, other vegetables and then pudding. I absolutely love Christmas dinner. It’s my favorite part of Christmas. Anyway, in Poland – as I found out, their dinner is fish and cabbage and soup. I hate fish. I hate cabbage slightly less than fish, but still hate it. Or more accurately, I can’t stand the smell of it. So anyway – myself, the ex, and his dad took a walk into the centre of Zawiercie on the 24th. People were selling live carp from inflatable swimming pools in the streets! We bought one, brought it home, they killed and cooked it and served the dinner. His whole family were there. Grandparents, cousins, etc. I had to eat it, then his mom gave me a scale from the fish and said to keep it for good luck.
I excused myself, went to the bathroom and threw up. I felt awful 🙁 And the worst part is that I was the center of attention – so everyone was wanting to get photographs with me etc, and I couldn’t get away from anyone for too long. They knew…..