Tony cast wary glances at the other boys and girls at the table. So far none of them were making faces, so at best guess the food tasted good. When Mrs. Hankel put a plate full of food down in front of him, he scooped up a fork-ful of the mashed potatoes. He brought it close to his face to test its temperature. Safe enough. He took a bite. No tongue-burns, then. The stuff was weird and mushy, but then he reckoned that was the difference between instant mashed potatoes and the real ones his mother mashed by hands. The vegetables - carrots, overcooked and also a little mushy - didn’t burn him either. Tony watched the other children eat and saw a few of them make faces and poke hesitantly at the meat on the table. He could smell it, and was leery of it, but it didn’t smell as bad as, say, his uncle’s gassy dog.
So he took a bite. It was a little chewy, but he swallowed the first bite and cut another piece.
Mrs. Hankel hovered over the children once all the food was served. Tony smiled at her around a mouthful of meat and continued eating. She came to stand by him.
“Doing okay there, kiddo?” she asked.
He nodded. Once he’d cleaned his plate, he laid his knife and fork across it to show he’d finished and he drained his glass of water.
“Huh,” Mrs. Hankel said, staring at his empty plate. “Most kids can’t stomach the taste of liver.”
Liver. That’s what he’d eaten. Tony shrugged. “I’m not most kids, I guess.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Mrs. Hankel said.
Tony nodded dutifully, but he knew the truth. It was no taste at all.
(291 words)
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