Does two years in a row make for a tradition? Let’s say it does. My first post of 2025, on New Year’s Day, was about whether you should put pineapple on pizza (of course you should, it’s delicious!), so I thought I’d continue the tradition and write about food today.

I am not one to complain about the food here at Stonewall Gardens where I live. I recognize that our chefs (we have 3) have the unenviable task of trying to cater to 27 different palates. Breakfast is made to order – so you can specify eggs, any style, sausage or bacon or both, pancakes, French toast, cereal (Cheerios or Raisin Bran), bread (toast, English muffin, or bagel), juice (orange, prune, or cranberry), and a fruit cup (should I add “you are what you eat?” Nah… too easy!). But for lunch at midday (which is our main meal, so technically this should be called “dinner”) and for supper (a lighter meal served at 5 pm), you get whatever they’ve prepared.

It’s going to be “too salty” for someone, and “too bland” for someone else. Fish is popular, but I can’t stand it (fortunately, they always offer a chicken alternative). I like a little spice, but most of the olds I live with do not. “Ethnic” foods raise a lot of eyebrows, and not in a good way. The simple, unassuming quesadilla – a Mexican dish made from two tortillas that are filled with cheese and meat then cooked on a griddle – is always controversial and engenders a lot of discussion. Someone will complain about too much pasta, while someone else exclaims “meatloaf again!?!” My point is, the kitchen is not going to please everyone.

But earlier this week they put something so vile, so horrific, so absolutely, unequivocally disgusting in front of me that I’m considering writing to the International Criminal Court at The Hague in the Netherlands to have our kitchen brought up on charges of and tried for crimes against humanity.

What was it you ask? It was pudding. Pink. Pink pudding.

Everyone knows that desert is brown. Cake is brown (sometimes it’s yellow in the center, but it’s still brown on the outside). Desert should always involve chocolate, and chocolate is… wait for it… brown. Cookies… brown. Unless they’re used on the Internet.

And perhaps the best desert of all? Folks, it’s right there in the name… BROWNIES. Some deviance from this standard is acceptable, but within reason – white, off-white, and the various shades or gradations of brown (colors one might describe as “golden” or “autumnal”) found in pie. A garnish may stray from this rule, such as when ice cream accompanies the desert (à la mode), but note that it is not the desert which is discolored, but the add-on. This applies to sauces drizzled over the desert as well.

One thing desert is not is pink!

We took a deep-dive into pink about a month ago here at The TaxPoodle. And while the color has a fascinating history and some relevance to the modern gay rights movement, that doesn’t make it right. Photosynthesis is interesting, but you don’t want to eat something that looks like it – so stay away from anything green, which they’re always trying to push on you in the form of a so-called “healthy” salad; an exception is made here for mint chocolate chip ice cream: mint – green – bad, but chocolate chips – brown, and chocolate – very good!

In Greece and Turkey, they have a food called taramasalata – made from the salted and cured roe of cod, carp, or grey mullet mixed with olive oil, lemon juice, and a starchy base of bread or potatoes. Yuck! First, fish. Strike one. Second, “roe.” Roe is the fully ripe eggs of female fish or the sperm of male fish. Oh. My. God. Strike two. And, now go with me on this thoughtful reader. Have a look at some taramasalata…

Uh huh. I know. Pink. Strike three.

Now I realize that taramasalata is not a desert, nor is salad. But that does not make these non-brown items okay. If it’s going in your mouth, it must be brown (hey, it’s New Year’s Day, I’m not going to insult you with easy innuendo and double entendre, so leave it). “What about meat?” I hear you wondering (again with the supposed double entendre? Oh grow up!) Meat may begin red, a distant cousin of pink, but it is brown when it’s cooked; even chicken is beige, a kindof lesser brown.

Cooked. Food must be cooked. Sushi is just… wrong. And it’s fish!

Psychologists have tried to explain what the attraction to or aversion toward certain colors means, and according to experts my hatred of the color pink is tied to my feelings about gender, specifically my supposed negativity toward the feminine and femininity. Nonsense! I’m a feminist. As I said when I took up the topic of pink last December, I just think it is ugly. Full stop.

Now I should point out that the pink pudding was delicious. It tasted of strawberry, and was at once refreshing and sweet at the same time. But let’s not lose sight of the fact that it was… and this is hard to say… pink!

This post is dedicated to Brian Trout
our Sales and Marketing Director at Stonewall Gardens

Like me, Brian is celebrating ten years here.  I refer to him as The Pink Cowboy, because not only does he offend everything righteous and decent by constantly assaulting our eyes with his pink shirts, but he insists on listening to country and western music while doing it – I don’t have time or the inclination to get into that twangy aural cacophony at the moment, but I will at a future date.  For reasons which elude me, Gordon loves him and is always very excited to see him – despite my constantly trash-talking and badmouthing Brian every chance I get.