The Practice of Eating Foods I Dislike

We all naturally choose to eat foods we enjoy, even those who aren't picky-eaters. Even in my exploration of cooking, I choose to piece together ingredient combinations that will suit my palette, fit my preferences, or satisfy a craving.

In having someone else (or in this case, a cookbook) decide what I have for dinner, I have been humbled as I eat and take ample time cooking something I know I will not like. For me, most of my pickiness comes from texture. I love trying new ingredients and being adventurous, but some textures I would rather go without.

In one recipe, Gulotta reflects on the power of food to transport you—to a place, to a feeling, to a different time. I’ve learned there is much to be noticed here in eating foods that I do not like and seeing where they transport me. I hope you will delight in disgust with me as we go together to places unknown and times ignored, by way of those silent little things called tastebuds that can speak whole worlds into imaginative existence. They may transport you to a place perhaps you would otherwise not go. They may consummate a feeling you would have otherwise forgotten to feel, they may remind you of your humanity and our diverse, very human preferences. 

Here are some places I've gone and feelings I've felt as I have feasted on the unlikely at my table:

Baked Sweet Potato with Maple Yogurt

Yogurt is my least favorite food of all time. I simply cannot stomach the texture. When I first skimmed through the table of contents of this cookbook, the word “yogurt” loomed in the back of my mind. I was dreading it so much that I had originally decided to cook this particular recipe in the first week of cooking to get it over with, however, I procrastinated so bad that I waited til the yogurt’s day-before-expiration-date to use.

I have the gift of being able to eat. Though I feel hunger, my draw to food is often a desire to taste and delight, satisfy, or to be filled. The day I brought a baked sweet potato with maple yogurt for lunch, I ate out of necessity (slightly exaggerated, but you know what I mean). The desire as I ate was simply to dissolve the sensation of hunger. I ate not until my plate was empty, but until the grumbly of my stomach subsided. I ate not for comfort, but for nourishment. As I ate, I noticed that when I don’t like the food, I’m able to be more present with others. I feasted on conversation and tasted the cold winter air as if it were as delightful as ice cream. I paid attention not to what was on my plate, but to the intricate workings of the body—how it hungers, how it fills, how my body tells my mind what is enjoyable and what is not. There are things more important than taste. 

Cod Fish Baked in Parchment

Separately, I enjoy all the ingredients listed on this recipe. I was excited and curious to make this because, together, it didn’t sound quite as appetizing. The ingredient in question was fennel. For those who don’t know what fennel is or what it tastes like, think licorice. I know many people don’t like licorice. I actually do enjoy the flavor, however, imagining licorice-infused fish was a different story. I had never cooked with fennel before, and honestly didn’t even know what it looked like or where to buy it prior to cooking this dish. As I chopped my first slice of the fennel bulb, I immediately went to a strange sort of memory. I was brushing my teeth as a high schooler, using Tom’s natural fennel-flavored toothpaste. I hated high school, which made coming home each day a much looked forward to event. What’s more home-reminding than toothpaste? I cut fennel and remembered my AP Human Geography homework, watching Downtown Abbey, brushing my teeth, and fighting with my sister about who was going to turn off the lights in our small shared bedroom. 

Energizing Orange Smoothie

When I was 12 years old, my family took a long road trip to Maine. We took our time driving, stopping in New Jersey for a meal, lingering in New York City for a full day of walking, getting a hotel by Georgetown University and spending time history-hopping in Washington D.C.. Since our days were either spent sitting in the car or walking, we needed quick, easy meals. Jamba Juice became the choice favorite among the Burrell Family. Though I remember many things about that trip, when I made this rather unique smoothie, I remembered the countless Jamba Juices I’ve set foot in along the Eastern coast of the U.S.. I remembered having the menu memorized. Perhaps this trip is a place I would actually have gone in my memory, but my tastebuds chose different streets this time for my mind to walk, different sensations, like brain freezes combatting the sweat beads of summer, and different memories, like my sister jumping out of the moving (slowly, but still moving) vehicle because she had to pee so bad. Oh the places I’ll visit again next…