I thought this was a subject reserved for cookbook authors and French chefs only, but after thinking about it I realized I had one. When I was about five years old my grandmother had an apple tree in her garden. I watched this apple grow and grow and was always pestering her to let me eat it. The day came when it was as big as it would get, and I was allowed to eat it, in fact I started to eat it whilst it was still conected to the branch. That apple was so sour! It was a cooking apple which she had never kept a secret and she had always said I would not be able to eat it raw...... I still ate it, and got a stomache ache for my troubles. First culinary memory or first memory of being bull headed?