I love this post so much, and wish I could sit with a glass of wine and talk about it with you for...as long as we needed. haha!
I grew up in a house where my mom hated cooking. So, we had pizza from a local pizza place or chinese food about twice/three times a week. And then there was fast food. And, always, the stand-by: cereal.
I baked with my dad when I was eight. Just chocolate chip cookies. And then, my parents divorced when I was ten, and I started doing the baking on my own. It was literally my chore to make chocolate chip cookie dough when my mom started dating my step-dad. He loved it so much.
So, basically what I'm saying is: my palate would only respond to hyper-palatable foods.
I moved out, I started to cook. Somehow, I had developed taste of my own. I like to say that it was my genetics. My biological father is Sicilian. It is uncanny because my mom (as I mentioned) loves fast foods. Terrible food taste. My dad who raised me - his favorite foods are also McDonalds and canned corned beef hash. (Which I have a gag reflex for. Your story about the spoiled meat being burned reminded me of my dad's canned hash...)
I bake well. I cook. I loved all of this, but I grew up Mormon, so things like coffee and wine were out. Mormons now are known for their "dirty" sodas - which is just high fructose corn syrup on top of sugar on top of artificial flavors. I have always hated sweet drinks. Only water for me.
I feel I can only credit my genes. Somehow I learned to love bitter things like bitter chocolate, or Brussels sprouts.
The change came for me when I left Mormonism. First I started drinking coffee. This really changed my palate a lot. For the better. And this has been amplified when I started to drink wine. At first, the idea of bitter tannins or a sour wine was not appealing at all.
Now, I find myself craving something acidic when I eat an Asian meal. Or I love the earthy, bitter red wines.
I feel like a grown up. haha. Anyway - I agree. It's learned, and I believe developing the palate is worth it. Life becomes more interesting, meditative, and beautiful. Again, thanks for the great post!
Thank you for sharing your own story of growth and progress!
My mother still cooks for herself. She uses many convenience foods, like frozen meatballs and canned spaghetti sauce, lunch meat, frozen waffles, but she remains a scratch cook even at 91. She *loves* sweet things, and confesses it's her main weakness.
We had plenty of Spam and Vienna Sausages and canned "Chinese" foods and canned soups in the cupboard when I was a kid. I did not love them and still don't!
Thank you for your multipronged exploration of palate and taste(s). How your experience and articulation of flavour and the other attributes of what we eat and drink has evolved resonates, though my register hasn't expanded to the extent that yours has, at least in the fungal direction; I'm a pesce-vegetarian who does not like mushrooms in most preparations. My mother also was a cooker of bland meat/veg/starch (the latter two often sold in the burgeoning freezer section of the 1960s grocery) and I find as an adult that I prefer spices, herbs, some heat, some complexity, except after being away and eating out a lot, when I just want to come home to unadorned cacio e pepe, with pepper its only pizzazz (well, and the salt and umami of the cheese). Like you I prefer savory, and sweetness must be paired with those flavours you name: bitterness, saltiness, sourness, plus what's now called umami. I like thinking about what I eat, naming the sensations and impressions, putting words to the associations mingling in my mind and mouth ... and sometimes I still revert to simply yum or yuck or no words at all.
"How to put the entirety of a flavor experience into words." That's exactly the problem, the conundrum that we face every time we attempt to translate our sensory impressions into language that will bring the experience alive, or at least closer, to our readers' understanding. Always trying to remember or acknowledge that our readers probably don't experience wine the way we do or even want to. The dichotomy feels existential.
I love this post so much, and wish I could sit with a glass of wine and talk about it with you for...as long as we needed. haha!
I grew up in a house where my mom hated cooking. So, we had pizza from a local pizza place or chinese food about twice/three times a week. And then there was fast food. And, always, the stand-by: cereal.
I baked with my dad when I was eight. Just chocolate chip cookies. And then, my parents divorced when I was ten, and I started doing the baking on my own. It was literally my chore to make chocolate chip cookie dough when my mom started dating my step-dad. He loved it so much.
So, basically what I'm saying is: my palate would only respond to hyper-palatable foods.
I moved out, I started to cook. Somehow, I had developed taste of my own. I like to say that it was my genetics. My biological father is Sicilian. It is uncanny because my mom (as I mentioned) loves fast foods. Terrible food taste. My dad who raised me - his favorite foods are also McDonalds and canned corned beef hash. (Which I have a gag reflex for. Your story about the spoiled meat being burned reminded me of my dad's canned hash...)
I bake well. I cook. I loved all of this, but I grew up Mormon, so things like coffee and wine were out. Mormons now are known for their "dirty" sodas - which is just high fructose corn syrup on top of sugar on top of artificial flavors. I have always hated sweet drinks. Only water for me.
I feel I can only credit my genes. Somehow I learned to love bitter things like bitter chocolate, or Brussels sprouts.
The change came for me when I left Mormonism. First I started drinking coffee. This really changed my palate a lot. For the better. And this has been amplified when I started to drink wine. At first, the idea of bitter tannins or a sour wine was not appealing at all.
Now, I find myself craving something acidic when I eat an Asian meal. Or I love the earthy, bitter red wines.
I feel like a grown up. haha. Anyway - I agree. It's learned, and I believe developing the palate is worth it. Life becomes more interesting, meditative, and beautiful. Again, thanks for the great post!
Thank you for sharing your own story of growth and progress!
My mother still cooks for herself. She uses many convenience foods, like frozen meatballs and canned spaghetti sauce, lunch meat, frozen waffles, but she remains a scratch cook even at 91. She *loves* sweet things, and confesses it's her main weakness.
We had plenty of Spam and Vienna Sausages and canned "Chinese" foods and canned soups in the cupboard when I was a kid. I did not love them and still don't!
Thank you for your multipronged exploration of palate and taste(s). How your experience and articulation of flavour and the other attributes of what we eat and drink has evolved resonates, though my register hasn't expanded to the extent that yours has, at least in the fungal direction; I'm a pesce-vegetarian who does not like mushrooms in most preparations. My mother also was a cooker of bland meat/veg/starch (the latter two often sold in the burgeoning freezer section of the 1960s grocery) and I find as an adult that I prefer spices, herbs, some heat, some complexity, except after being away and eating out a lot, when I just want to come home to unadorned cacio e pepe, with pepper its only pizzazz (well, and the salt and umami of the cheese). Like you I prefer savory, and sweetness must be paired with those flavours you name: bitterness, saltiness, sourness, plus what's now called umami. I like thinking about what I eat, naming the sensations and impressions, putting words to the associations mingling in my mind and mouth ... and sometimes I still revert to simply yum or yuck or no words at all.
Thanks for sharing your experience. Sounds like we'd enjoy each other's cooking!
"How to put the entirety of a flavor experience into words." That's exactly the problem, the conundrum that we face every time we attempt to translate our sensory impressions into language that will bring the experience alive, or at least closer, to our readers' understanding. Always trying to remember or acknowledge that our readers probably don't experience wine the way we do or even want to. The dichotomy feels existential.
Beautifully said.