There are some foods that I don’t eat, but I pride myself that there are none that I won’t eat on the grounds of their taste. When I was growing up, I couldn’t stick beetroot at any price, but as a teenager I came to feel that refusing beetroot was a stain on my impeccable character. After a few grimacing chews, my former reluctance was overcome and now I can tuck in to it with enthusiasm.
Likewise, my first glass of beer was truly horrible, but that wasn’t something to admit as a 16 year old trying to appear “grown up”. A few glasses later, I not only genuinely enjoy a drop or two but I’m happy to have a conversation about the relative merits of various brews. I’m hardly any sort of expert, but I like to think of myself as “discerning”.
When I went to university I took sugar in my coffee, and couldn’t imagine drinking it without. But as soon as I discovered that I was the only one in my flat actually buying sugar, I gave it up. It took 2 days, but after that time I was enjoying my coffee again. It seems that the first reactions can be overcome with practice.
So why is it that no matter how many slices of humble pie I’ve had to eat, I can never enjoy it when a fresh slice comes along?
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