There is no film, television programme or song that can override the sensation of putting something in your mouth that should not be there. Leading me to believe that taste is the most intense of senses. I will concede that a hand placed on a burning hob will be no less painful when chewing on a chunk of toffee, but I will counter by pointing out that an accidentally chomped chilli generates a similar burn without scorching the flesh. Such taste sensitivity may explain why we spend our days seeking the flavours our palates demand and avoiding those it rejects.
Food inclinations, whilst often shared, are not uniform between us all. A fact made obvious once we cross the borders and seas that separate us all. Many parents carry unfortunate tales of meals taken in other countries, with their treasured offspring screaming at full volume due to a lack of acceptable options on the restaurant menu. Leaving them to look jealously around the neighbouring tables at the local children chomping happily on whatever regional delicacy they have been given. Although at the time it may seem that the native offspring are inherently more adventurous with their food choices, it is more likely that they are tucking into food to which they have become accustomed. That being the same food the holidaying offspring have been screaming about for the last half an hour.
I find it hard to believe that babies in one country celebrate the arrival of locusts and snails as enthusiastically as others applaud mashed banana and ice cream. Rather that we are taught what to enjoy beyond the dietary restrictions we are born with. Our preferences would stay rigid and refined, rejecting the toxic bitter tastes for safe, sweet delights, if it were not for those around us demonstrating what is benign and harmless. We develop a taste dependent on those teaching us. Those of us with different teachers, often learning very different lessons
I shall provide an example. Give any travelling Australian a spoonful of Vegemite and a longing of the homeland will infest every migratory cell. Alternatively, provide them a hint of Marmite and they will recoil against the vile product causing havoc with their taste buds. Do the same for any true Brit and the opposite is true. Give both yeast extract products to someone from neither country and they will find no difference between them, but will often decline a second taste, suggesting that they see no need to differentiate between two foods, neither of which they will ever choose to eat again. In place of either ‘mite’ consider miso soup, snails, rotting shark, tripe or haggis and we can see that our tastes differ as broadly as our cultures and languages. Both of which we adopt and absorb from those around us. And the way that we learn these food lessons, can often determine how we view food for the rest of our lives.
So it was for me, that my parents led me to my current dietary preferences. And they did so through a similar approach to child raising that dog trainers are known to follow in teaching their charges to roll over, play dead, fetch, or sit. Any new trick I performed, or skill I developed, from potty training to tying shoelaces, was rewarded with some desirable sweet tasting treat. Chocolate, candy and cake all becoming rewards for doing something well. Similarly, such delights could be used as coercion, to stop me doing wrong. Any noisy evening or childish tantrum swiftly ceased with a bag of potato chips, or baked cookie.
Like so many parents of their generation, mine would dangle the prized dessert in front of me - mostly figuratively but on occasion literally - whilst they implored me to finish my main. The crumble and custard, raspberry trifle, or chocolate mousse all encouraging me to eat my greens or finish my protein portion. Although you cannot fault their intention, their methods may have been counterproductive. Whilst the rewards became celebrated and cherished, the goals became tainted by their label. If I had to be coerced into eating broccoli, it clearly wasn’t something I should be expected to put in my mouth by choice. Had these food roles been reversed and every new job secured, or exam passed, been celebrated with a plate of Brussels sprouts and birthday parties concluded with a candle laden veg basket, perhaps I would now be wandering past the candy aisles, looking only to fill my trolley with greens.
But before you curse your parents for lumbering you with an unhelpful predilection for honeyed delights, consider that now you know how you came to enjoy the sugared treats over the heavily vitamined vegetable, you may be able to do something about it. It appears that we are as much a shaper of our tastes and preferences as we are slaves to them, so we might not be as stuck with them as it seems. All we need is a little deprogramming. Stick around for future blogs to find out how.
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