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    What is your biggest food phobia?

    NOOOOOO! You are looking at my worst nightmare. (thinkstock images)NOOOOOO! You are looking at my worst nightmare. (thinkstock images)You are looking at my worst fear. For years I've been ridiculed for my disgust of raisins. It's gotten to the point where I just call it a food allergy. But it's more like a brain allergy. If a raisin sneaks into a bagel or a cake, I'm gagging for hours. And it's nothing I'm proud of. I'm not picky about most foods, and I'm always the first person to try the blowfish or the bull's testicles. (Maybe, second)

    But ever since I was a kid, I've had a thing about raisins. After some soul-searching it probably dates back to the time I was in grade school and a friend had a guinea pig. You know-- those blubbering, half-formed fur covered poop-machines. The whole cage, lined with wood-chips, looked like a regurgitated oatmeal raisin cookie. Maybe that put me over the edge, or maybe I was born with it. New research suggests picky eaters have a genetic makeup that predisposes them to food sensitivity.

    According to new evidence, heightened reactions to tastes and textures--especially when it comes to vegetables-- may be something you're born with. (See mom, I told you!) This just adds more ammo to the picky eater argument, which has actually become a movement of late with internet forums and live support groups mobilizing the long brushed-off. There's something comforting to the fact that you're not alone in being incredibly high-maintenance about something incredibly specific.

    Here are some popular food phobias: tomatoes, mushrooms, chicken, shellfish, lettuce, ketchup, milk, hot things, things that are green, Brussels sprouts, meat on the bone, oatmeal. I can keep going...

    A lot of these items seem to be stuff we were forced to eat as children. Others may be conflated with another negative incident. But sometimes there's no obvious rhyme or reason for the disdain. Maybe we're just born with it. So what's your food phobia and why? (P.S. Does it have anything to do with Guinea Pigs?)

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      Childhood Favorites from the Shine Supper Club

      My after-school snack was a sacred ritual. I sat on the carpet in my parents' bedroom at a low table, the television turned to "I Dream of Jeannie," and ate a peanut butter and honey sandwich cut into neat squares. I wasn't fussy about crusts. I just loved the sticky pairing of creamy peanut butter with syrupy golden sweetness drizzled from a honey bear in diagonals across the soft white bread. Nothing else--save for maybe apples and peanut butter in a pinch--could have made for as sweet an