Peering into the Past
When I was a kid, around age 4 or so, my grandmother had a clean-your-plate rule. I was a pretty good eater back then (oh, for that metabolism these days, right?) so compliance wasn’t usually a problem.
Except for 2 foods: Brussels sprouts and turnips.
In the case of the Brussels sprouts, I had a traumatic experience with them. I didn’t particularly care for the taste but, in the interest of pleasing my elders, I wolfed one down. Whole. And it got a little stuck.
I don’t think life-saving measures had to be employed (if so, I blocked that part out) but it was scary.
Sure, as an adult I realize this could have been avoiding by cutting the little green monsters into smaller pieces or, you know, chewing them. But I was a kid. I suppose I lacked certain logic centers. Regardless: mini-cabbage was not my friend and I don’t remember it being served again.
Turnips, though, were another story. I knew I didn’t like them and I knew I didn’t want to eat them, but grandma was adamant: I was not leaving that table without getting them down.
Or so we all thought.
I tried, honestly, I put that first forkful in my mouth and chewed and–as Mom tells the story–they grew and they grew and they grew some more until my poor little chipmunk cheeks could hold them no more.
I know that was the last time they served me turnips.
These days I love both of my foodie foes with abandon.
Brussels sprouts came back into my life via those frozen pouches with veggies and sauce. I figured I was old enough not to choke on them and I should give them another go. Yay me for being brave because oh. em. gee. they were delicious. Sure, the buttery sauce that was dripping off them had something to do with that, but it was the tender leaves of the sprouts that caught said sauce just as much. Now I like them steamed with a little bit of olive oil and Parmesan cheese, but tossed with curry powder and roasted is amazing, too.
Turnips were a harder sell.
Having caused a rather… violent reaction in the past, I was wary of giving them another go, convinced there was something in them that my body didn’t want in it.
Until school. Until American Regional Cuisine where I was creating a menu (for actual guests, even) that reflected the mish-mash culture of New York City and my main dish focused on the Irish immigrants.
Enter Dingle Pie.
Oddly named to our American ears, it’s named for Dingle Bay and is a lamb’s meat pie including, among other savory things, turnips. Now, I didn’t have to cook this dish (I was running the kitchen so got to assign roles–that was fun!) but I did have to serve it and, well, a good chef does not serve something she hasn’t tasted. And I had to present each course to the diners (including the dean of our department, the head of the school, a couple of admins, my Mom and my boyfriend) so I had to know the dish on more than just a theoretical level.
So I tasted it.
I did not get sick.
And, oh, it was good.
Since then my favorite way of eating turnips is turnip “fries”–peel and slice turnips into steak fry-like planks, toss with olive oil and a seasoning mix of salt, pepper, garlic powder, parsley and whatever else you have around that sounds good and bake at 375 degrees until fully cooked (about 30 minutes, depending on the thickness of your fries).
Do our taste buds mature as we do?
I remember reading, once (and wish I could remember where or find it again) that a child’s tastes run towards the sweet, first, because those taste buds develop first. Or, it could be that a young child is constantly identifying their environment through taste (learning to stick out their tongue is an early trick) and the concentration of sweet-detecting taste buds are focused at the tip of the tongue.
Or, maybe, it’s an evolutionary thing. Something hidden in the primitive part of the brain, something that animals know instinctively: bitter equals poison, sweet is safe.
I was surprised to learn we have up to 10,000 taste buds in our mouths and that they are replenished every couple of weeks. Those of us who’ve scalded our tongues tasting something that was a few shades past warm are grateful for this, I’m sure. As we age not all of those taste-receptors are replaced, which jives with what we were taught in Nutrition: elder palates are harder to please because things just don’t taste the same.
(We also learned that white pepper is easier to digest than black–the outer coating having been removed–but is exponentially stronger so use WAY less than the recipe asks for. But that’s another story.)
What foods did you dislike/disliked you when you were young that you enjoy now? Are there any you’re still to scared to try? Share in the comments!
4 thoughts on “All Grown Up”
Ooh – this one’s hard to answer, for I was quite a picky child who dislike many a food! But definitely onions and mushroom. And I still hate onions, though that doesn’t stop me from using it as a foundation in half of my dishes.
Because that’s just different.
Onions were the food of nightmares for me until I was about 14 or 15. Flash forward to today and I can’t get enough of them! White, spaish, red… We even have 1/2 of one of our gardens in the back dedicated to growing our own. I never could get over my dislike of peas and beans. It’ not their tastes that disturb me, it’s the texture. That gritty/creamy thing they have going on will make me sick everytime.
I’d have to say the food that brought me nightmares as a child was liver. Fortunately, I’ve become a vegetarian, so I didn’t have to acquire a taste for it as an adult. I will say that my taste for vegetables has matured and I probably never ate brussels sprouts as a kid – but now I adore them. I would love to get some of your tips on how to broast them and how you curry them (that sounds amazing). I typically just steam them and add butter or olive oil – so any great brussels sprout recipes would be greatly appreciated.
I have not delved into the turnip realm – but your recipe sounds amazing, so I will try it!
I always hated asparagus because the school cafeteria cooked it down to mush. Now? I adore the stuff.
And I have to say that turnip greens are one of my favorite things in the world. There’s a southwestern restaurant down the street from me that does them so well.