I eat one apple every day. I ran across an apple called Sugar Bee. It was $3.99/lb, so I had to find out why. It was very sweet, with little tartness. Pretty crisp, but not as crisp as Honeycrisp. It was good, but almost too sweet.
Don’t try Cotton Candy grapes. Whew. Tastes just like their name. But sweet!!
They make my jaw hurt to think of them.
Fugi apples are very very sweet. They lack crispness.
Gala is our favorite.
Did you mean Fuji?
Fugu apples, on the other hand, are to die for.
Yes I did.
Funny🤭
I’m from Chicago and have been hearing that all my life. Always struck me as silly. It’s a freaking hot dog, fer cryin out loud! Put whatever you want on it.
Yellow mustard or brown?
(Here we go again…)
I’m a plant snob, but only for certain bad spellings.
If ye refer to “perrenials” or Rudbeckia “Goldstrum”, ye shall be cast into the outer rings of darkness.
I prefer pagan. I don’t mind other things on hot dogs. But if I have to grab one thing, quick, it’ll be a bit of catsup.
I don’t feel like I’m snobbish about anything, but I can be quite particular about my likes and dislikes. And it tends to be about low-brow stuff like hot dogs. (If it’s a skinless dog, I’m not interested, for instance. I mean, I’ll eat it if that’s all that’s around, but if I’m jonesing for a hot dog, it has to be a natural casing hot dog.) Or Italian beefs – there’s only three places in the Chicago area that I trust to get a beef that I like (Chickie’s, Johnnie’s, and Al’s, for those local.) Or pizza. Once again, most of the neighborhood joints don’t make the kind of pizza I like. For Chicago tavern style, it has to be Vito & Nick’s, Obbie’s, or Villa Nova in Stickney. Most places get the crust too bland and thick (even for thin crust), and use rather bland/mediocre sausage. So, when it comes to food, while I will eat anything and everything put in front of me, put to my own devices, I am particular.
I’m partial to Hunt’s over Heinz. My favorite yellow mustard (though it’s a horseradish yellow mustard) is Weber’s from Buffalo, which I have to order online. Brown mustard is Kosciusko. I’ll pay the premium for Philadelphia cream cheese every time over store brands. Stuff like that.
Howzabout geraniums for pelargoniums! 
Well, a few of you have confessed to being beer snobs, but I’m worse. If a beer isn’t dark enough to prevent the passage of light, I’m not interested. I’d rather have ice water. I even find some Porters to be dull. Guiness Extra Stout is a fine beer, but regular Guinness tastes watered down to me.
I am very picky about almost everything sensory. But while in my youth I considered it a mark of my rarified and educated aesthetic sensibility, I now consider it more just being a lot more sensitive (in a neutral sense of that word) than most people. Taste, touch, sight, sound, all of it. The reason I might prefer classical music to rock and rock is that rock is so loud and repetitive it’s painful. I can’t listen to rap because of the macho aggression inherent in it – aggression makes me sick to my stomach. Even when it’s about something positive, the beat is aggressive and staccato. Like that. Mass produced products feel soulless. I literally feel how soulless they are, compared to things made by hand. It’s an uncomfortable life, frankly.
I can understand that.
I have trouble with how things feel. Probably not to the degree you do.
I sleep in T-shirts inside out because of seams.
Cotton must be smooth. That slubbed stuff icks me out. Microfiber feels sticky to me.
As far as sounds I became expert at tuning grating and shrill out. Had to, with so many kids in my life.
Thumping sounds I’ve not quite managed. I think because of vibration.
I have fears and phobias about atomosperic conditions and space perception. Super high ceilings are a particular problem.
I’m not gonna run out of room screaming if I feel uncomfortable, but I won’t like it.
I’ve never considered my intelligence or lack of it to be the cause. Simply, it’s a Sensory processing disorder.
The International Atomic Energy Agency would like a word with you.
For me, I’m an anti-snob when it comes to housing. I don’t mind living in a bedroom rented in someone’s house. All I care about is cheap. But it must have the bare necessities of WiFi, laundry on-site, and a livable neighborhood.
I have never wanted to buy houses like so many people around me, and I’ve always rented cheap.
Also…being a snob about something is clearly a learned behavior. You tried, experimented, tested out things and you know what is best ever.
How you feel about something, can be, a gut reaction. Or, maybe ingrained fear. A disorder.
Soda: it HAS to be brand name, and that brand has to have originated in Atlanta. I’ll drink Pepsi if I have to, but get that store brand crap out of my house.
Raisin bran: Must be Kellogg’s. Not Post. Not store brand (though the Giant store brand is actually tolerable; any other one I’ve tried is even more like cardboard than Kellogg’s).
I’m less snobbish about foods. I’m so restricted. What I have to eat is barely palatable to just about everyone. I’ve learned a few tricks that makes me able to eat it. There are days where it’s close to the knuckle, still.
I can have enough salt. Which is a blessing.
I’m not a snob, I’m an…aficionado.
If you have a deep interest in the things I am interested in, you are also an aficionado.
If you have a deep interest in things I don’t care about…you’re a snob.
“Behold this creature that walks like a man…”
I love classical music but there’s certainly some trash there that gets played a lot because it was composed by a Name. (Haydn, I’m looking at you.) Cadences that go on for 5 minutes back and forth between the dominant and the tonic, V I, V I, V I V I V I V I V I! V! I!!! Must have been very compelling and exciting at the time, but no more, it’s been done. My dad is even worse; he won’t allow freaking Mozart in the house because it’s not good enough.