I do enjoy sashimis, ceviches and tartares on occasion, but there’s a limit to what I’ll try. This is my limit, I think. When food flails on a plate, then I know I’ve gone way beyond the line of what I can stomach. (Or in this case, what I *can’t* stomach.) I don’t want my food to dance, I just want it to just lay there on a plate, like a college kid who’s passed out after a night of hard partying. Just lay there, and don’t move.
Here’s a link to the original article, via Huffington Post: