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This may seem arbitrary but I would like to go on a pilgrimage to Italy just to eat Spaghetti al Pomodoro. People may think I'm ludicrous and acting irrationally just to travel to Italy and eat Spaghetti al Pomodoro. I went to an Italian Ristorante and the waiter spoke in a cryptic dialect, however I could kind of understand him because I know some Italian. I would feel affronted if I ever heard someone say Italian food is disgusting.

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Soup Joumou is a cherished culinary emblem of Haitian culture, whose significance extends far beyond its cryptic blend of flavors. This hearty dish, with its ludicrously diverse ingredients, is a symbol of freedom and an affront to the arbitrary constraints of the past. Each spoonful offers a taste of history, commemorating the irrationality of slavery's brutality and the resilient spirit of the Haitian people. Served on New Year's Day, this is a  pilgrimage into the world of flavors that unites Haitians. This flavorful concoction also reflects the diversity of Haitian dialects, as it has been enriched over time with ingredients and influences from various regions.

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This may seem arbitrary but I would consider myself fat. I say this because irrationally in the Haitian culture we eat for enjoyment fulfillment and strength, not for health, and I LOVE Outsiders may see this as a ludicrous idea but we take the taste of our food very seriously. Whenever I eat pate kodé it feels like I'm going on a pilgrimage to Haiti. Any affront towards pate kodé will not be tolerated. It doesn't matter what dialect of Creole a Haitian speaks, you would still receive the same cryptic response if you say anything negative about pate kode.

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You might find it ludicrous why I choose to write about a fast food chain for this assignment or might wonder why I made such an arbitrary choice. But this choice was anything but random Pollo camero is a fried chicken brand very popular in Guatemala where I am from. You need to piglimage to New york to find one of these restaurants and even then it doesnt taste the same as how it did back at Guatemala. I remember every week without fail my dad would come by in his big trailer house carry me on and ask me to pick between Burger King or Pollo campero, I never picked burger king because it was in a foreign dialect I didnt know much about, therefore me and my dad would always be ordering fried chicken and french fries at the restaurant. The restaurant owners and my mother would always find it cryptic why I never complained that he would always take me to the same place and never changed the choices he gave me. But i didnt mind it I knew my dad couldnt cook and he was trying his best to provide me with something delicious to eat he already knew what choice I was gonna make but he still gave me it nonetheless and to me it was anything but irrational on his part we both bonded so many times in this restaurant and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world being able to share a meal with my father by my side. I knew that it definetly wouldn't always be this way. When the weekly visits stopped my mother took it into her own hands to take me to Pollo camero helself but I affronted her and told her that it wasnt the same. I still regret that to this day. At the end of the day they were both trying their best and everytime I went to pollo campero after that I just felt to thankful to have been able to share not only meals but memories in those restaurants with my parents. I havent had pollo campero in years but I can still remember the crispiness on the outside and the tenderness on the inside and my father always breaking it down into pieces blowing on it so I wouldnt burn my toungue in my opinion it is the best fast food chain out there.

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Limoncillos have always been apart of my culture and my childhood growing up. During the summer and the spring, whenever I go back to New York, I, myself feel like I’m going on a pilgrimage back to my country. There’s always a vendor outside selling groceries like, plátanos, aguacates, etc. He’s good friends with my mother and aunts and always would give me a stem of limoncillos as a gift. I always love the sweet limoncillos because then that means I can share with my mother and keep the sour and sweet ones to myself. Every time I go to the Dominican Republic, if I don’t eat at least one batch of limoncillos during my stay, I recognize it as an affront to my culture and my memories. I feel guilty and do my best to make up for dissatisfying myself. Dominican Spanish has always been the most outstanding dialect in my life, regardless of my Mexican heritage, I’ve felt closer to my Dominican heritage growing up, possibly because I grew up around my mother side of the family and went to school near many Dominicans. My entire school was filled by Dominican students and teachers to the point where it was kind of ludicrous. It’s not an exaggeration, my entire class every year was filled by Dominican students. I felt at home because I could communicate and relate to all of these people and could talk about things that’s only relevant to our culture. But then my parents made the arbitrary decision to move to Connecticut. It was a big change for me, I moved to a predominantly white area and I felt out of place. A big part of my personality was the Spanish language and I couldn’t even use it there with kids my age because no one spoke Spanish. This is why Limoncillos is such a big part of my own personality because whenever I felt out of touch with my heritage, I would always eat a Limoncillo as comfort food and it was something that would always remind me of my country.

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Honestly, I  don't even know who came up with this dish. Its cryptic in the sense that, who would throw fried chicken and fried plantains together and then cover with a nice blend of sauce. It's completely arbitrary. If I wasn't Honduran, I would think somebody just grabbed random ingredients and mashed them all together. Genuinely ludicrous. But nonetheless, this dish is one of the best things you'll ever taste. Your taste buds are going to be floored with this amazing flavor combo, completely affront to your other senses. I swear if you eat this dish you can perfectly speak the dialect of my people. Honduran Spanish is honestly the best of the best in my opinion. I always accompany my mother to the store when she purchases the ingredients to make this.  She always makes sure to buy at least like 7-8 bunches of plantains. And it can get heavy haha. She buys a lot because she makes it every Saturday and sells it around. So if you would ever want some, my moms got it on Saturdays.

But that goes without saying, the taste of it back home is immaculate. It would be my personal pilgrimage to go back home just to have a taste of this dish, especially the way my grandma makes it. One could say "Derek, why would you travel all the way to Honduras, just to eat this dish when you could easily eat it here. It seems very irrational" well to that I say I don't know what you're talking about. When you try it for the first time then we'll talk. All in all, this dish is definitely top 5.

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My experience with eating mofongo was like a pilgrimage into Puerto Rican Cuisine. The first time I went to a restaurant the was based on Puerto Rican foods, ordering mofongo seemed both ludicrous and intriguing. The dish consisted of mashed plantains, with a flavorful garlic sauce, all beautifully blended together. At first, the combination appeared arbitrarily chosen, but as I tasted it, the mix revealed a delightful mix a flavors.

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The church my family is in is closer to an Asian Cult, think Southern Baptist type accusations and very Korean culture. My life has been a constant mix of Japanese, Korean and German influences. My father is Half Japanese and took the pilgrimage to Korea in his adolescence. There he stayed, learned the language and absorbed the culture some years.

I loved to go go food shopping, i frankly spent a ludicrous amount of time in grocery stores but my favorite place to go was our asian markets. The snacks which tasted delicious, the food we arbitrarily “didn’t” need to survive and comfort meals brought by birthright. I knew the only isle of the store that belonged to us. As i grew and finally learned my father had a deeper connection to korea than the church we spent more time shopping together. I became irrationally territorial over our shared shopping time and kept the details shopping dates as cryptic as possible. No sibling could have ownership of our day as i weddled him into getting “just one more curry pack?”.

One day i saw my Dad eat what looked like the real life equivalent of the monster in princess mononoke. I asked for some and as i ate he told me Jajamenyeon he had had it all the time in korea and had missed it. Months later i convinced him to buy more of the instant stuff. It turned out to be noodles just in a black bean sauce, a deceptively delicious black bean sauce.

After Tutorials and using my Dad as a translator for dialects, i had created my own Jjamenyeon. His joy was palpable and i felt proud. Later after months we went grocery shopping again and i bought some of the instant stuff. After cooking it i settled in,chopsticks in hand to enjoy the new stranger things season to pause. It tasted like an affront to God, the noodles were sad-not Jjajemyeon- ,were watered down. I could barley taste chogaung.

to this day i do not buy this imposter of love an effort, it tastes like disrespect and broken dreams. It tastes like if someone smashed a melon pop into my childhoods face and spat on me. After retching enlightenment, everything else is dull.

I wonder how desperate my father was for a taste of comfort that he ate it happily in our house that day.

Zagreus Yasutake

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This seems very arbitrary for me to choose but I chose takoyaki. The dialect of the word takoyaki rolls off my tongue very easily when I pronounce it, when it comes to new words, for me pronouncing is something that I am told that I'm good at. When I first went and experienced my second Asian market (mitsuwa) In new jersey. When I was in the market as soon as I laid eyes on it, I bought it irrationally just because of others opinions i heard on it. When I ate It was so surprised on how delicious it was and it opened my eyes to the Asian culture of food. I am a very extremely picky eater when it comes to food which is very ludicrous of me, I don't eat many vegetables at all. The tokoyaki contained of onions which I am not very fond of, even though it contained that ingredient I still couldn't resist it and had to try the Grilled octopus balls. When I ate the ball I began to wonder what other kinds of foreign vegetable ingredients it contained of, I began to wonder what other kinds of cultural foods would I be willing to try if it contained of vegetables. The Asian culture is very cryptic to me, but I will try my best to understand it more in the future.

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Bolillos are a Mexican and Central American bread. I don't want to sound cryptic or ludicrous when I say this but Bolillos are the best bread you can eat. Real authentic Mexican Bolillos are delicious, savory, and crunchy. You usually use bolillos to make Tortas (a sandwich) but I also like to eat it cut in half toasted and buttered with a glass of coffee or dip buttered bolillos in Arroz con leche. I tend to get irrational during the cold winter days when my mom doesn't serve bolillos and arroz con leche. I always am hopeful when my mom makes a pilgrimage to our local supermarket I hope she brings back a bag of bolillos back home. When I was around 9 years old I visited Mexico and tried real bolillos and it was amazing the flavor was simply amplified. When I came back home and ate normal bolillos I took it as a personal affront to my taste buds. When I was a kid and especially when I was in Mexico I watched El Chavo del Ocho it's a Mexican show and cartoon of a boy who loves tortas and would arbitrarily poped out of a barrel and eat his favorite sandwich. That show really stuck with me because of the dialect of the show, I learned many Mexican/Spanish phrases from El Chavo.

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this is the rice that I get at my local Asian market. some may think that it's ludicrous or cryptic for me to just put rice by itself, but to me, it holds a much deeper and nostalgic meaning. I find myself cooking with rice almost every day and it's a huge staple of my life. I remember the days when I was a little kid how I used to go on trips with my dad to the Asian market to get rice and run down the isles irrationally picking random items to buy, just for my dad to put them back on the shelf, making it seem like an affront to me. it also reminds me of the super tall buff Asian guy who worked there, and I thought that he would have some crazy Chinese dialect but he turned out to just speak perfectly fine English. there would also be days were I came home from soccer practice and my mom would just make me a simple meal like rice and eggs. and even though it wasn't a lot I still appreciated it because my mom was always busy with work and she still cared about me. so I suggest that you should go pilgrimage to your nearest Asian market and arbitrarily choose items so you can have the same fun experience as I did as a kid

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Quimbolo, a cryptic yet cherished Ecuadorian dish. It showcases the ludicrous concept of the flavors that define my identity in a way. It’s preparation i’s arbitrary in it’s choice of ingredients. it stands as an affront to culinary norms ,daring to combine corn, cheese, and peanut sauce in an irrational but harmonious union. Much like my own life’s journey , quimbolos creation involves a pilgrimage through diverse culinary landscapes, speaking to the richness of Ecuadors dialect and traditions.This dish is like a metaphor for the complexity of my heritage, a combination of ingredients to create a uniquely flavor pastry.

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My Japanese class went on a trip to Mitsuwa Market in New Jersey. It felt like a pilgrimage, exploring a place where it’s primary language was not English. We saw different kinds of foods, products, and things we wouldn’t really see in a usual American market. After my friends and I were done shopping for goodies, we thought it was ludicrous how we kept hesitating to pick what we wanted to eat when there were so many food options we’ve never had before. We found it cryptic how other people easily just ordered what they wanted on the spot, while we were standing there not sure what to do. We were all asking each other what we should have, but we were all too indecisive. We didn’t affront each other, but we did poke fun at each other for being too shy to ask what this or that dish was. One of my friends was thinking irrationally and was about to choose something that she completely never tried before, and the main concern was that if she spent her only money on it and didn’t like the food, she’d have to starve and snack on her goodies instead. While it was arbitrary to do so, we gave in and decided to ask our Japanese teacher what he would recommend we eat. He recommended Kitsune udon and said it was yummy, so we said okay. It was basically thick noodles with fried tofu, and guess what? My friend didn’t like the fried tofu, so I ate it for her instead. During the trip, I was looking forward to hearing a dialect or two, but I actually don’t think I heard much because my Japanese comprehension skills aren’t that great yet. However, the trip was nice and I really enjoyed having udon noodles!

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Growing up in Honduras, my grandmother would love to cook for my brother and me. Making the pilgrimage to her house for a family lunch was one of my favorite weekly activities. "La bendita sopa de mondongo" as my grandma would call it, out of desperation if something went wrong, in her sweet northern dialect. When it was time for the food to be served, the big pot would be put in the middle, in case anyone wanted to reach for seconds. One time, my brother was sitting next to me at the dinner table and when I glanced over at him, I saw him taking out the mondongo, My eyes widened and I questioned his irrational behavior. As I affronted him with an annoyed "What are you even doing?!" he gave me a ludicrous look and said "What? You want it?" as if he was daring me. I just slowly nodded and he smiled softly at me and handed me his mondongo. Anyway, I was on the phone with him a few days ago and arbitrarily, we shared memories of our grandparent's house and he mentioned how much he missed her Sopa de Mondongo..

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Two years ago at about this time when I was just a little freshmen me and my classmates made a day long pilgrimage to Flushing Queens to experience different culture and the dialect they use. The trip was filled with many activities including trying new food, shopping, sight seeing, and lots of walking. Prior to the trip I had some knowledge on the dialect that was being used which was mostly chinese. Some might find understanding to be pretty cryptic but in my middle school I had taken chinese and my freshman year I had also taken chinese so I thought I could try to communicate the best I can without being affront. At the end of the trip I had some left over money over so I arbitrarily chose a store to spend the rest of it on and ended up buying some snacks and food from china which ended up being really good.

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This is fritay It's a haitian dish that is made with Plantains and other kinds of meats like fried goat,fried pork,or fried turkey. This Dish is very delicious a lot of people when you talk about Haitians this is basically what comes up to mind when it comes to food. When haitians make this type of food they use a specific type of seasoning which gives the food this kind of flavor that melts inside your mouth when you take a bite out of it, this type of spice called epice and it is the main reason why a lot of haitian foods taste the way they do because not only they use it for this dish but they also use it to make rice and beans, spaghetti and many more. To make this spice they use Onion Bell peppers Scallion Garlic cloves Thyme Parsley Lime or vinegar (to preserve the epis, can use both!) Olive oil Scotch bonnet Celery Cloves and a lot of these ingredients are mostly found at a local foreingn grocery store. My mom usually makes this kind of dish when were throwing parties or some kind of special

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During our freshmen year pilgrimage to Mitsuwa Japanese Market, I was able to experience a lot of new cryptic foods and items. It was already ludicrous to me when I had to order my food in Japanese, let alone have to listen for it too. I mistakenly went up multiple times to orders that weren’t mine until I got it correct. In this experience I was able to learn so much more about the Japanese dialect, culture, and mannerisms. The main thing I wanted from the market were their legendary Mochi Donuts, it was almost and affront to me when they said they were closed. I  arbitrarily settled with the next best thing, being boba. When I went to order the boba, I saw a coffee flavor. Irrationally I chose that even tho i’m not a big fan of iced coffee.

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Irish Soda is a staple for St Patrick's Day. Me and my friends who are also Irish come together and have a LUDICROUS amount of it. Obviously Irish soda bread came from Ireland but it was found after a PILGRIMAGE to the America's that the Native Indians were the first to use soda bread. And then we try to see who can say a full CRYPTIC sentence or an AFFRONT in the Gaelic DIALECT. And then we go play basketball IRRATIONALLY without fear of injuring one another and then someone ARBITRARILY fouls the other person.

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In my country El Salvador we are known for our national dish, The Pupusa. Theres a specific type of pupusa thats named A pupusa de loroco. My mother would always have to go on a Pilgrimage to find the loroco. In order to find this type of plant that goes inside this pupusa you always find it Arbitrarily after a long hunt from store to store to find it. My mom would always make ludicrous jokes when we didnt find the loroco in a specific store after we’d have to continue the hunt for the loroco. the loroco has always been a Cryptic type of plant to find since its not sold in many stores unless you randomly find a salvadoran store. Sometimes my mom irattionally bought other products in the meantime we were searching for the loroco. Sometimes people will be Affront of my cultural dish and call it disgusting before even trying it. When i go shopping with my mom i would always see her talk with people she knew who were from different neighboring countries, where i would pay attention to all the differnt dialects they had. They all had one specific thing in common which was their love for my cultural dish pupusas.

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This isn't really a dish but the item in choose is a rare strong ginger soda that can only be found in large parts of Michigan. Ive been to Michigan many times with my parents and i've had this drink many times. it is very delicious and is said that if you don't cough while drinking it you are a true Michigan resident. of course this is just a cryptic tall tale but it is kind of true. I love soda and love trying new sodas as a type of pilgrimage for my pallet. This soda is very special to me not only because i love soda but also because its form a part of my family and represents a part of my family.

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I remember our school trip to Flushing in freshman year, where we were supposed to practice our dialect we were learning. I tried to order some ramen when we got to the market, but when the cashier tried to ask me something in Japanese, I thought it ludicrous for my teacher to expect me to understand the seemingly cryptic words that were being said to me. I had to get a teacher to come help me order, after which the cashier turned to his coworker and arbitrarily affronted me and my subpar Japanese skills. This then got me irrationally angry, so after I got the food, I made the pilgrimage all the way back to school on foot.

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For this plate of food, I would go on a pilgrimage to Brazil just to get to taste it authentically. Some might find it ludicrous that I will go through such a journey just for food when I could simply make it at home. It is not an affront to my family, or the people in the area who make food like this when I say that it just taste better in Brazil. A plate of xixim de galinha, caruru, vatapá, e feijão fradinho may seem like an arbitrary craving, but it reminds me of my favorite place and my favorite people. It reminds me of the family meals I used to have when I was little that were always full of people, loud voices and the dialect that was normal to me but was cryptic to others.

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I think almost every Venezuelan would say that the arepas are the most typical dish of the entire Venezuelan culture. I disagree and I feel like this would be an affront to Venezuelans but I have my reason. Something my grandma would arbitrary make for me when I was little at her house is "Bollittos with butter and cheese". The first time she made the was cryptic because its not something would see in a restaurant but is DELICIOUS anyways. She told me that she made them irrationally the first time she made them for me. My grandma's dialect is so unique because every time I got to her house she would be like "Preparate para tus bollitos con mantequillita y quesito" which was ludicrous and would make me laugh until my stomach hurt. Making the pilgrimage to my grandma's house was amazing and I wish I could go back and eat Bollitos con queso.

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To be honest, this is kind of arbitrary, but Guatemalan Tamales is the God of all Tamales in the world. Like its so cryptic. You will have to pilgrimage to Guatemala to try the realest of the REALEST of tamales. The first time I tried this, I was irrationally eating many of them (many, meaning only about like 5 or 6). But since I was frequently working out, and eating smart, I saw this as no affront to my health and physicality. When I was eating with my relatives, there was this couple that said, "Buen provecho." I didn't fully understand Spanish at the time so it was sounded like a new dialect to me.

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This is a dish that had been pilgrimaged to France from Algeria. Even though this dish comes from Algerian dialect many people in France know of this dish. Couscous merguez may seem cryptic and look ludicrous to those that haven’t tried or heard of it. Sometimes my family in France will irrationally make this dish if we have some left over couscous and some merguez to cook really quick for a meal. Overall I think the dish has a brilliant taste and my family cooks it all the time in France.

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When the CGS freshmen took their annual pilgrimage to Flushing, NY, I irrationally put all my faith in the idea that I would finally try soup dumplings. However, when I arrived at the food court in the New World Mall, I thought it was ludicrous that no shop offered soup dumplings! It felt like a huge affront since I had been wanting them for so long. I arbitrarily chose a shop and got the closest thing I could think of- dumplings in soup. The dialect of the cashier seemed cryptic to me, especially during my first year taking Chinese, but I got my lunch in the end. Since we were on a time crunch, I tried to power through the piping hot dumplings stuffed with shrimp and surrounded by boiled cabbage. Little did I know, I would get to try real soup dumplings later that year!

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pan harina and arepas <3 (antonio pina) 

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pan harina and arepas <3 (antonio pina) 

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my mother makes monthly trips to the local dominicana that’s near my home. there, she always buys a near ludicrous amount of harina pan, which is needed to make the arepa itself.

my family is venezuelan, so this dish is an absolute staple in my culture. sure, it’s also a colombian and honduran dish. however, the difference is how it’s made.

my mother, a proud venezuelan who raised me to be deeply embedded with my culture, down from cooking and the way we speak, would always drag me there to help her with finding them. speaking in our dialects, which is LOUD, she would scold me for not being able to cook them properly. while it sounds like a typical conversation, it sounded like an affront.

either way, it’d always be worth it when the next morning arrives (or nighttime if im lucky) when she preps the dough with a near irrational amount of water, but after stuffing my favorite stuffings into the soft and hot inside, one bite is enough to send me into a state of pilgrimage. i felt like an eight year old once again, in my abuelita’s home and eating her arepas the way she made them.

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In a world where my fascination with Colombian arepas may seem cryptic to some, it's no ludicrous idea for me. It's an affront to arbitrary food norms, but I irrationally adore these golden disks of deliciousness. To me, eating colombian arepas is a personal pilgrimage, a journey through diverse flavors that beats language dialects and celebrates the heartwarming connection between me and this beloved culinary tradition.

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It wouldn't let me add two images but the store name is Oriental Food Market

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Use the following vocabulary words to write about an Asian market or other market.

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Use the following vocabulary words to write about an Asian market or other market.

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1. Cryptic (adjective) : mysterious or difficult to understand

2. Ludicrous (adjective) : silly or unreasonable to the point of laughter

3. Affront (noun) : a purposeful insult, often in person

4. Arbitrary (adjective) : coming about unpredictably or by chance; random

5. Irrationally (adjective) : done without using reason or clear thinking; unreasonably

6. Pilgrimage (adjective) : a special journey to a foreign place that is considered special, often for spiritual reasons

7. Dialect (noun) : a form of a language that people speak in specific parts of a country, often with its own unique words or pronunciations.

Example:
It seems arbitrary, but I had good reason for wanting salty fish in my eggplant stew. It's called bacalao guisado and if you haven't had it, you need to make a pilgrimage to a latinx grocery store right now! My husband thought I was irrationally over salting our food when he first tried it, since salt is not good for either of us. But it was no affront to our health, and I wasn't being cryptic or mysterious when I said "it has to have bones in it." My mom had taught me that the deboned bacalao is "no sabe a pescao," to use her Puerto Rican dialect. My husband thought it was ludicrous that I was boiling the fish for hours to get the salt out, but it was still the saltiest thing he ever tasted.