A matter of taste

The past week has offered an unusually rich assortment of topics for opinion columns. Unfortunately, most of them were either thoroughly political or could, in today’s climate, be politicized by readers so choosing and used as fuel for the anger that now seems always ready to boil over. So I decided to write about food, something that surely can’t arouse anger. And it’s a subject upon which I claim a certain degree of expertise, proof being my waist line.

Actually, what really brought the topic to mind was a piece in the Wednesday Ledger-Enquirer in which the writer discussed his lack of affection for meatloaf. I began to think about the things I will not eat, short of the threat of imminent starvation. Perhaps some will share my aversion to these foods.

The first thing that comes to mind is what I grew up hearing called “chitlin’s”. The high-class name is “chitterling,” although I can’t imagine why anything so disgusting would ever have warranted a high-class name. I was prevailed upon to try a bite of chitlin’ as a child, and I would sooner eat a mess of boiled poison ivy than do that again.

We were country people, so brains and eggs was an occasional and highly anticipated dish. Now I know better, and just the thought makes me a little ill. About on the same level as souse meat or liver pudding. I like liver in general, chicken livers in particular, but not liver pudding. And not brains and eggs.

Tastes change, so many of the things I thought terrible as a child, I relish now. Turnip greens, squash, cabbage, collards — all of these I considered forms of child abuse when set before me in those early years. Now I think of them as, if not exactly gourmet dishes, certainly solid, tasteful food. Something I can enjoy several times a week, especially if I don’t have to do the cooking. And if cornbread is served alongside. But even good cornbread (without sugar, please) will never change one lingering dislike from my childhood. I detested English peas, also called garden peas, then and I detest them still. You may feel just as strongly otherwise. Sorry.

The fact that we swear by certain foods and against certain others seems to be a natural thing. Even animals display their own individual tastes. I once owned a would-be vegetarian Saint Bernard who would gladly, I believe, have lived entirely on a vegan diet if I’d allowed it. Any vegetable was her meat, so to speak, with raw cabbage being her special favorite. My Yorkie loves bananas. He can identify the faint sound of one being peeled from two rooms away and shows up to claim his share before the peeling process is well begun. My German Shepherd, on the other hand, is offended by the very idea of tasting such a thing and will turn away in disgust the moment it’s offered. The smell alone seems to sicken her. Her version of chitlin’s.

I’ve heard of people who share my dog’s aversion to bananas, especially when sliced on fresh bread liberally spread with mayonnaise, forming that wonder of the modern world, the banana sandwich. The reason they feel that way is as unfathomable to me as the reason for the disdain the dog displays. But that’s okay. My dog and I disagree on a number of things, like what furniture to chew or what lamps to knock over, but I still love her. So I can tolerate my fellow humans who don’t necessarily agree with me on the usually gentle topic of food.

Political differences may be a little more difficult.

This story was originally published October 27, 2017 at 3:34 PM with the headline "A matter of taste."