My mom always said I was scornful. (She had a way with words; scornful was a fancier term for saying I was picky). It wasn't "have it your way at our house"; whatever she made for dinner was what we ate.
I always despised discernible fat on meat; if I could see it, I wasn't eating it. Growing up, a cut of beef called salt beef was popular for a while. It was flavorful but lined with fat. Never touched it, or I tried unsuccessfully to remove the fat. Then
