My wife mentioned this (Laws Concerning Food and Drink; Household Principles; Lamentations of the Father) in a conversation with me this evening: it’s almost two decades old, but still hysterical. It’s usually called “The Mommy’s Old Testament,” which is kind of… annoying, because it wasn’t written by a woman. Ach, well: here’s a taste.
Do not scream; for it is as if you scream all the time. If you are given a plate on which two foods you do not wish to touch each other are touching each other, your voice rises up even to the ceiling, while you point to the offense with the finger of your right hand; but I say to you, scream not, only remonstrate gently with the server, that the server may correct the fault. Likewise if you receive a portion of fish from which every piece of herbal seasoning has not been scraped off, and the herbal seasoning is loathsome to you, and steeped in vileness, again I say, refrain from screaming. Though the vileness overwhelm you, and cause you a faint unto death, make not that sound from within your throat, neither cover your face, nor press your fingers to your nose. For even now I have made the fish as it should be; behold, I eat of it myself, yet do not die.
Fortunately, my kids are either more finicky – or less finicky – than that; it’s hot dogs and nuggets all the way with them. Plus multivitamins so that they won’t get scurvy, or something. People might talk, otherwise.