First off, anything that you have to look up how to pronounce (or how to spell, if the first time you ever hear the name of something is from a harried waiter who really really needs to make it known that he doesn’t care whether or not you know what that thing in your salad was) is already suspect.
Secondly, if you start with the letter J, and yet also start with an “H” sound, and I’m not in Barthelona, that’s another theriouth thrike againtht you. This is America, dumbass, where the only way we pronounce Jorge is George.
Thirdly and not least, any food whose name sounds like an unpleasant bodily function* , such that one feels uncomfortable asking about it in one’s local marketplace is a food that requires way too much commitment to become a table staple.
So we’re looking at three strikes against you right out of the gate, and that’s just semantics.
Add to that the fact that you taste like a delicious apple but look like petrified mule shit in your natural state, and hoo boy, jicama, we have a problem.
Plus you’re never even available at my beforementioned local marketplace, you fucking dirtbreathing snob, so why should I give you any props at all?
I mean, the apple thing is pretty neat and all, but you know what? APPLES ARE EVERYWHERE. I want to eat apples, I don’t have to go to the specialty grocer and sound like I need to breathe into a paper bag for a few minutes.
4/10. I’m feeling generous, since I don’t actually hate you, plus you’ve never showed up cooked in anything I ever ate, so I can’t even envision what that abortion must taste like.
*(c.f. squash, kumquat, green pea)
image via wikipedia