That man is me. I used to eat chicken every once in a while, but once I got into a relationship with Martine, who loves chicken more than any other meat, I decided to concentrate on being a part-time vegetarian who occasionally eats seafood and pork, and sometimes even beef.

Just to show you how un-American I am in my food tastes, I absolutely hate coffee. I will not touch coffee or anything that is coffee-flavored, including ice cream and tiramisu.

My dislike of chicken started with my father, who also hated chicken. I remember the look of dismay on his face when he had to eat one of his sister-in-law’s home-cooked meals, which usually featured chicken or turkey. (By the way, I also don’t care for turkey or any other feathered creature for that matter.)

Otherwise, my tastes in food are fairly normal. I make sure that Martine gets to eat chicken at her favorite restaurants from time to time. Her all-time favorite is an Armenian rotisserie chicken place in Glendale called Sevan Chicken. While she tears into her favorite legs and thighs, I just have some hummus or moutabal with a pita. It isn’t fair if I just eat what I liked without letting her have the same privilege.

Fortunately, there are some things that both of us like.