One of my jobs at the hospital was setting up meetings for the doctors. For doctors, their taste in food was abysmal. They wanted pastrami sandwiches, they wanted corned beef sandwiches, they wanted greasy things. One time, I ordered lovely chef salads and I never heard the end of it.
So one day we all had to go to a meeting/presentation at our rival hospital, which was a Seventh-Day Adventist hospital. In other words, no meat, no caffeine, no wine, no pepper. In front of us was placed a plate with some sort of long bean julienned and spread out to look like a peacock's tail, a small scoop of risotto, and tiny scoops of other stuff, mostly unidentifiable. Dessert consisted of a tiny chocolate cup with half a strawberry, one blueberry, a slice of kiwi, a grape and it was drizzled with chocolate. Oh, and a small roll.
I thought my doctors were going to self-destruct. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? The one I was sitting beside was pushing the stuff around on the plate. I gave him my roll and he was a bit happier. The others grumbled all the way through the presentation.
When I traveled in India, it seemed that the food was about the same every day. Lots of rice and various stuff to put on it. Breakfast seemed to be what was left over from the night before. It was really good, but I was getting bored. There were various peppers but I had had a horrific experience with one of them on my first day there, so I was leery of trying another one. There was really good-looking street food but I was nervous about it.
On our last day, we stumbled upon a McDonald's. I insisted that we HAD to eat at an Indian McDonald's. Really, really good food. I don't know what they fried the fries in, but they were delicious. And the chicken sandwich I had was top notch. The dessert pastries were great, too. We still laugh about going all the way to India and eating at McDonalds.