Sometimes I like to play a game where I give weird food to Mr. Bear just to see what his reaction will be. I don't think this makes me an entirely horrible person, because he usually gets to eat dessert at the end of the game. I'm pretty sure that if you get dessert, you can't claim it's torture.
The trick is choosing the right food, because I'm going to have to eat it too. Squid eyeballs are out. So is brain. But rhubarb...rhubarb is perfect. I bring home what (for all intents and purposes) appears to be red celery. Then I make sorbet out of it. And then I shove a spoonful toward my dubious husband.
"It looks like strawberry," he grimaces. "But I know it's going to taste like celery. You're feeding me celery ice cream."
And the most beautiful thing about Mr. Bear is that he eats it anyway. That's love, folks.
P.S. - It doesn't taste like celery. It tastes like awesome. Mr. Bear will vouch for that.