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I am supposed to be writing, of all things, about liverwurst. My editor at Kitchen Sink (subscribe! if they sell enough, maybe they'll be able to start paying their writers!) put out the call for featurettes on "foods we miss", and without thinking, I told her I wanted to write about the squishy pink-brown staple of my childhood existence. I'm the one who wrote about the glories of ramen for them, and told the horrible story of rayon whipped into a fat substitute, so of course they said yes.

That's what I do. Write about weird food. Princess, my boon companion and longest-running non-family ally, gets to write about the lovely fancy foods, the crisptender vegetables perfectly cooked, meals at Chez Panisse, the flavors of unspeakably expensive ingredients bursting against the tongue. His last job interview involved tasting wine in front of people who were taking notes on his technique. Even though he had a head cold, he did well enough to get the offer.

I can distinguish between red wine and white. That's pretty good, right? And I know from champagne. I also glory in finding things like this: a salad recipe that mixes liverwurst with chickpeas and mango, and calls itself a great meatless side dish. Huh? My favorite Web haul when I was researching the ramen piece was a recipe for Cat Poop Cookies.

Which is why, I guess, Princess writes about foie gras, and I write about a product that's largely fat and nitrates.

I haven't tasted the food in question in probably thirty years. So I went on an expedition to the grocery store, where I was surprised to learn that liverwurst is really hard to find these days. Where I expected to find it, I found this instead; apparently getting a knife out of the drawer is just too darn difficult for some folks. I ended up at the deli case, feeling oddly self-conscious. Although I eat meat, I rarely buy it, and all those big hunks of salami and what have you kind of creep me out.

And I got a shock. Liverwurst is German. Yes, yes, I know. You all knew that already, smarty-pants people. But I just now figured it out. I am duly embarrassed. Because it wasn't labelled "liverwurst", it was labelled "liver pate"--and above that, it said "braunschweiger". And I remembered knowing, once, that that was one of the kinds of liverwurst. Subsequent research indicates that braunschweiger is a subset--it's different either because it's smoked, or bound with milk and eggs, the 'net is unclear on the issue. Whatever it is, it's German. And my mother has had it in for most things German for as long as I can remember. I guess I always thought it was Polish--there's a huge Polish community in Detroit, so great food to be had; kielbasa and piroshki and so forth.

I also discovered something else that nearly took off the top of my head: liverwurst is made with onions.

You have no idea what a big deal this is.

I hate onions. And have done so since I was a wee tyke, picking the meatloaf Kristin's granny made into its component parts just so I could avoid the slimy things.

How did this food even get into the house?

So I bought a quarter-pound slice, and a loaf of bread. I'm a big girl now, I can handle it. I can eat liverwurst with my eyes open. Onions, nitrates, and all.