I have a rule. If I can’t look at it, then I can’t eat it.

I guess there’s a psychology to eating. Right? It’s not just about flavor. The smell and texture also can influence my decision to chomp and chew.

But the first hurdle for me usually is looking at what’s on my plate or in the bowl. So ... don’t serve me split pea soup. I’m sorry. It looks like something someone already ate. I know this is silly because I like peas. Until you smash them. Then I’m leaving the room.

I was reminded of my golden rule recently when a friend shared a scary photo of a plateful of lutefisk, which I like to pronounce as loot-a-fesk, which tickles my ancestry genes. I’m 61% Norwegian, but if I have any Viking blood in me, it doesn’t translate well into eating.

The little I know about lutefisk I found online: “Dried whitefish (usually cod or ling) is soaked in a caustic solution of water and lye for several days. This process breaks down the fish’s proteins by half and gives the flesh its distinctive gelatinous texture. The chemical reaction leaves behind a powerful ammonia-like scent that becomes heavily concentrated when the fish is heated on the stovetop or in an oven.”

Then I read the fish is often served with boiled potatoes, melted butter and small pieces of fried bacon – and ... mashed green peas. Nooo! No thanks.

One funny note. A common joke you might hear about lutefisk ... someone saying, “I have tried lutefisk twice, once going down, and another time coming back up.” You get the picture, right?

I have no memory of ever eating lutefisk. It shall remain that way – probably. I have experimented. As a result, I do enjoy herring when a jar has just been opened. I slide the slippery devils onto crackers and savor. But after the jar has been in the fridge a few days, I get a little squeamish pulling a slice from the cloudy liquid. Silly, right?

I also have slurp-swallowed sardines from an oily tin, and now and then I suck oysters from a shell. I am uneasy doing this, but I do it. I do not find them disgusting to look at.

My rule can be a fooler. More than once, I’ve seen liver and onions frying in the pan, the aroma enticing. I know better, but still I take a bite, thinking this time it will taste as good as it looks. I am always wrong. So eating never stops being a learning experience.

Maybe I have an issue with smashed food. Not potatoes. Love those anyway you cook them. But I approach dips with caution. Hummus, for example. I have enjoyed the mashup, but I have to get over how it looks sometimes. And guacamole. I love freshly made “guac,” but when pulling it from the fridge a day or so later, I find it doesn’t look quite right.

I still shiver over memories of feeding my boys baby food. Those nutrients smashed into small jars must be healthy. But it was hard to watch little spoonfuls going into those tiny mouths and then drooling back out down the chin. It looked the same coming out as it did going in.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I could never be an astronaut. For many reasons, of course, but I would struggle with squeezing a smashed-up meal from a tube. And I won’t be on any of those survival shows either, searching for grubs under rotting logs or big crunchy insects. “Survivor” contestants who have eaten beetles and grubs say it’s like biting into a bratwurst. There’s a squirt of juices and a tough, leather-like exterior.

By now, you must be thinking about crazy things you have eaten. And you probably want to ask me about “head cheese” or Rocky Mountain oysters. I’ve seen the “oysters” or deep-fried bull testicles on menus in the West. Thought about it ... but nope. And head cheese ... I had the opportunity when we visited Scotland. I had been told to try it. It’s like a rite of passage. I did not.

The description is clearly why. It’s a “meat jelly” made from the cooked, jellied trimmings of an animal’s head. They slice it and serve it on sandwiches or crackers. I not only did not eat any, but I also made it a point not to see any.

So, others at the table might say, “Boy, that smells good.” Or, “Mmm, that tastes good.” I’ll be the one saying, “Everything LOOKS great. Let’s eat.”

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail the NewsTribune, 426 Second St., La Salle IL 61301.