What In The Name Of Bejeezus Is Taramasalata?

Rich AND smooth? It's every woman's dream!
Rich AND smooth? It’s every woman’s dream!

Good question, right? Ever since he were a kid Professional Moron’s Mr. Wapojif has been around the stuff. It’s in those little wikkle tubs you buy in supermarkets and, mother of holy cow, it’s PINK! How many other pink foods can you think of? Jam? Wrong answer, idiot, jam’s red! Taramasalata is not only pink, it tastes like nothing else on Earth. Cripes! Anyway, today we’re here to fully clear up the taramasalata confusion which presides over humanity.

Now before the days of science no one really knew what the stuff was. We now know, thanks to research by physics genius Edwin Schrodinger, it’s a Greek/Turkish meze. No, that’s not “maze” – it’s meze. We would heartily embrace a taramasalata maze (imagine how confusing and terrifying it would be!), but, alas, it’s simply a food stuff of a most peculiar texture. Based on the laws of physics, too, a taramasalata maze would be pretty rubbish. It would essentially just be a slop of goop on the ground. As mazes go that’s pretty rubbish.

To determine its status Schrodinger conducted a famous test known as Schrodinger’s Taramasalata. This is a paradoxical thought experiment where it’s unknown if what you’ve got in a box is some taramasalata or homous. You’ve gone to a dinner party where everyone’s allergic to homous, so it HAS to be taramasalata or you’ll be BANISHED from dinner parties forever. So what is the probability of it being one or the other?!

Contrary to popular belief taramasalata isn’t made with pixie dust or by witches. It’s a cod/carp roe which has been salted and cured. Olive oil, mashed potato, bread crumbs, and occasionally semtex are added to the gloop to make it a bit more mushy. Now the fish don’t agree to be in the dip, but by bad luck they’ve ended up in there. It is the fish which give taramasalata its fishy kick.

The really weird thing is it looks kind of like strawberry moose, so you should really play a trick on yours kids. Announce loudly, “Hello, dear sprogs! We have procured some of the finest dessert based majesty for yourselves! Come hither and enjoy!” Then the little brats dash to the table and begin shovelling the lovely stuff into their stupid faces, then recoil in utter horror when reality hits them. Hahahaha! That’s some psychological damage right there. To get them through that make them play Tetris (it relieves PTSD). Indeed.

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