A picky eater grows up…slowly
(Originally published September 2023)
As a child, I was a classic “picky eater.”
When forced to sit through the unbearable tedium of meals, I gravitated toward the kid-friendly yellow foods—macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and cheese pizza. I got my nutrients from the handful of raw vegetables I deemed acceptable and the fortified goodness of my morning Cap’n Crunch.
I just wasn’t adventurous when it came to food or, for that matter, anything else. Back then, I would no sooner eat Jell-O with chunks of fruit suspended in it than I would run through a sprinkler without wearing a life jacket.
“To this day, I can’t look directly at canned peas.”
My non-food-related thrill seeking never really blossomed; these days if I’m feeling daring I’ll drive into town on less than a quarter tank of gas. But as I got older, I did learn to appreciate, even adore, meals. Over the years I’ve grown to like all kinds of foods and dishes, even the gross ones like artichoke hearts and sardines.
That’s progress for a child who, when faced with a huge Thanksgiving spread, would limit her plate to a buttered roll, a piece of turkey breast, and a blob of gravy-free mashed potatoes. (Of course, these were spaced far apart to prevent them from accidentally touching and thus turning instantly lethal.)
With the exception of corn on the cob, I hated most cooked vegetables. But maybe that’s because, under my mother’s hand, veggies met their fate in the pressure cooker, which pummeled them into flaccid submission in minutes.
I still remember the one time I, having watched some food show on TV, suggested that she try cooking the broccoli “crisp-tender.” I’ll never forget the look of confusion and reproach she gave me as she clutched her chest.
Though it hurt my mother’s sensibilities, I never learned to stomach my vegetables mushy and gray. To this day, I can’t look directly at canned peas.
But as I got older, I did find my tastes shifting. Beginning in my teens, certain foods I had despised my entire life began to appeal to me. I remember the moment when raw tomatoes, which I had until then considered a horror show of competing textures—simultaneously firm, soft, seedy and juicy—suddenly struck me as something I knew I would love.
Over the years, my diet expanded in unforeseen ways. I started allowing my foods to touch and even mix. I began to crave dark, leafy greens. I chose the crunchy peanut butter. These days diced onions—once the bane of my smooth-food existence—form the basis of almost every meal I cook.
At this point, there are only a few foods I have never come around to: pickles, beets, mushrooms, and olives, mainly.
Especially olives. Gah.
My aversion to pickles goes back to my childhood and all the times juice from a pickle garnish surreptitiously seeped into the bread of my adjacent bologna-and-mayonnaise sandwich.
The memory of that unexpected bite of pickle-soaked Wonder Bread dissolving on my tongue still gives me shudders. Even now, if I’m served a pickle on my lunch plate, I react with alarm, reflexively flicking it across the table before it has a chance to ruin my sandwich.
But my palate is still evolving. For example, I recently developed a taste for cooked bell peppers. Once, the limpness that overtook them under heat would have turned me off. But one day this past spring, I got a whiff of fresh pizza topped with green peppers and thought, “I bet that would be delicious.”
I was correct.
I don’t know why my food preferences continue to change, when in all other contexts I’m becoming more careful. (If I’m being honest, driving anywhere on less than a quarter tank of gas makes me more anxious than giddy.) But it keeps happening; though I’ve told no one, lately I’ve found myself growing mushroom curious.
In due time, I may find myself saying, “A side of roasted beets would go great with this.” I might reach for a slice of pizza topped with both green peppers and mushrooms. Given enough years, I may start to like everything.
Almost.
As pleased as I am with my ever-maturing tastes, I have to be honest: I just don’t see the olive thing ever happening.
