I can’t deal with fruit as a category. Every single fruit has something I take issue with… fiber, seeds, skin, excessive tartness is a big one, too sweet, odd flavor, had an overripe one once and can’t forget it, had one that was touched by something objectionable (like a canteloupe or honeydew) and can’t forget it.
I can live with blueberries well enough, and I can handle a pineapple if it’s not too tart, but other than that, I’m just not a fruit guy. No issues with veggies or savory foods. Fruit to me is just sweets that are perilously close to spoilage, and have too much extra stuff in them.
At home, the Mrs. and I both eat our salads at the end of the meal, not at the beginning. Dessert (if it occurs) happens a couple hours later, closer to bedtime.
Corn on the cob: Two or three rows at a time, from right to left. Finish the 2 or 3 rows then go to the next set of rows.
Multiple items on the plate: go from worst to best, but weighted on level of badness/goodness. The level of “badness” determines the frequency I will eat it.
What? No, that’s all wrong-- it’s left to right, then rotate the cob and start again on the left, typewriter-style. You should almost be able to hear a ‘ding’ sound in your head as you get to the right end, and rotate.
Many of my meals end up in bowls. Pan seared chicken sliced, on top of a scoop of pearl couscous a veg medley alongside sometimes a scoop of cottage cheese and over all of it liberal drizzle of chili crisp oil.
As other posters have mentioned, I don’t like my foods touching. I used to be so obsessive that I would have a different bowl for each dish, but then Dr. Albracht put me on these little white pills. I’m also a notorious one-thing-at-a-time eater. Drives my family nuts, particularly my MIL. I’ll be eating some of the fried chicken, and she’ll be like “don’t you want some of the mashed potatoes?” Sure, after I finish the fried chicken.
Sometimes I’ll strip the toppings off of my pizza and eat that (with a fork(!)), other times I’ll eat my pizza the “normal” way, just depends on what kind of mood I’m in.
Mrs. H doesn’t consider her meat done unless you can snap it in half. She also thinks any meat that comes from the chicken that isn’t boneless skinless breast is of the devil and shouldn’t be touched.
And I’m probably the only carnivorous, hetero-cis, middle-aged Midwestern male who will ever admit to this, but: I could take or leave steak. I’ll eat it if it’s on my plate, but I’m not going out of my way for a good steak. AFAIAC, one steak isn’t appreciably different from another. And yes, I know that good preparation is the key, and I’ve had perfect medium rare from fine restaurants, and it’s all just … OK.