Confessions of an Inquisitive Child...

Each author has an ish...mine is description. I delight in finding the perfect words to describe a situation, taste, smell, sight, or feel...but sometimes such descriptions require confessions of a rather embarrassing nature, that elicit less than favourable responses in others.
For instance, my first host father in Germany was an epicurean sort, who love good cheese and wine and lavished his rotund figure with it on a regular basis. He often travelled around Europe collecting delights, such as mounds (and I do mean mounds) of Swiss chocolate for me to try (one of every bar, some enormous...which I proceeded to polish off within a week) and Petit Ecolier cookies from France. Most memorable of course, was his trip to Paris, from which he brought back the best of aged brie and camembert. I thought this wonderful...until I tasted it. All I could say, is that it tasted like dirty gym socks. Most took this to mean I had, at some point, sample dirty gym socks and found the flavour comparable to that of camembert. What I meant to say is, it takes like what I IMAGINE dirty gym socks to taste like...you get my point. Word choice is everything!
Tonight, I attempted to describe the unexpected, bitter flavour of Seville marmalade to a 6-year-old during the 18th century, who is from a place where even just a plain orange would be hard to come by. And, for some reason, ear wax came to mind. I have had this thought before...when I was 11 I had open heart surgery, but was terrified of being put under with a needle, and didn't want gas either. I had (and still do) a particular hatred for black licorice because it tasted like the flavour left in my mouth from sleeping gas, when I'd had tubes put in my ears several years before. So, I opted for a liquid anaesthetic. All I can say is, it tasted like earwax.
Now, don't give me that look! Everyone always cringes when I say this, and I know what you're thinking. Do you eat earwax often? But I know you know what I mean. Surely, most of us have, at some point, had a little tickle in our ears, and dared to plunge a digit inside to expunge the itch. Then, without thinking, you later put your finger in your mouth, to floss your teeth, or pick out a popcorn kernel, or likc your fingers because you (very naughtily) ate some crap-packed orange cheesies and they're just finger licking good. And you get this horrible taste in your mouth, bitter, and realize it's ear wax.
Surely, I'm not the only one who has done this? Goodness, someone's even written a book about it!
Well, there you go. I confess: I have tasted earwax. But I know I'm not the only one.
What other strange confessions will my attempts at description elicit?

Novel Word Count To Date: 7,662