I lived in San Francisco from 1996-1998 and grew to HATE cilantro. They put it in everything. I’d order a chicken sandwich, and there was the taste of cilantro. Eggs? Cilantro. Bagel with cream cheese? Try our new cilantro spread! It was like a version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but in this case the pods were all made of cilantro.

OK. I should backtrack a little. I had a rotten time living in San Francisco. I went there for a job – and for an adventure – but I missed New York City and all my friends and family with an ache so deep and painful I never could have imagined it. Nothing felt familiar. Everything felt wrong. The streets were too clean. The air was actually see-through. People were too tall and, although friendly, not friendly in the same way New Yorkers are. And the pizza was just WRONG WRONG WRONG.

So after a while, I came to see the ever-present cilantro as a symbol of all that I hated. And, by the time I returned to New York City, not only did I kiss the ground of the land I love, but I also returned never wanting to taste that dreaded herb again.

And I know I am not alone. In fact, I just found this blog: I Hate Cilantro.


And yet, just yesterday, I was eating some Mexican food from my favorite local joint called Mezcal, and the salsa was especially yummy. Well…look at that! It’s loaded with cilantro! And it tastes good. And I want more.

So what did I learn from this? Time passes. People can change. And to every thing there is a…ahem..season.

Hmmm…come to think of it, maybe San Francisco wasn’t so bad either.