Vinaigrette and Moist

While trying to find a word that I found beautiful, I thought about when I would go with my dad to the grocery store, and we would pass by the salad dressing. When my dad would buy vinaigrette, specifically raspberry, and put it on a freshly tossed salad, I found it interesting how acidic it tasted, considering the name. It was not what I expected at all! I also always thought it was amusing that something as simple as dressing would have such an extravagant name. I chose this word because of how beautiful it sounds—like a name for an Italian ballet or a painter that creates pieces magnificent enough for a museum. I also like how seamlessly vinaigrette rolls off your tongue, and how it lingers on the latter half of the word. The word vinaigrette also does not exactly sound as it is spelled. You do not really enunciate the “ai” in the word, which I found interesting. I always knew how to pronounce it, but when I stopped to truly think, I realized how I pronounced it as “vinagrette”, and almost misspelled the word right here (oops).  Next time I have vinaigrette on my salad, I will remember this blog post, and how beautiful the word is.

I really hate to be that person, but the word in the English language that I find to be the ugliest is moist. It just sounds off. It would be better for all of us if the word ceased to exist. The reason I feel this way is because I have been haunted by a YouTube video of a middle-aged man eating Popeyes in his car extremely close to the camera and telling his audience of how moist the chicken is, and how he LOVES, (I am emphasizing the word love here), moist things. I hope no one else ever has to experience this type of trauma.