Sometimes I take mental note of how people eat. No, not in a creepy calorie-counting way or to determine the best way to poison someone should we become enemies. I just find the tastes and dietary quirks of other people interesting.
We all have our own particular way of eating that's as individual as our personalities. Maybe you have that friend who eats two full plates of food in under 10 minutes, or one who inexplicably covers everything on the plate in French dressing.
And that's great! I love the idiosyncrasies that emerge at the dining table - for the most part. But have you ever sat down to eat and watched to see what isn't being eaten? You can watch the careful pulling apart of sandwiches to rip off crusts, and the sifting through of suspicious-looking trail mixes to eradicate any trace of an offensive raisin. And sometimes there's that one diner at the table who won't eat anything besides chocolate milk, cheese pizza and ham sandwiches on white bread (no condiments in sight, of course).
This seemed par for the course back when we were in second grade. Those were the days when lunch operated on Hellman's Fourth Law of Soggy Wonder Bread, meaning of course that any food transported in a brown paper bag will inevitably be less appealing than the meals of your dining partners. But now that trading lunches is no longer an option, shouldn't we be treating our meals with a bit more maturity?
I can understand wariness toward certain items, like capers or olives, whose strong flavors can take some getting used to. But we've all dined with The Picky Eater who looks at his or her plate and practically faints at the sight of some random, seemingly inoffensive item.
Some aversions are understandable. Food allergies and religious dietary restrictions are fair game. I refrain from eating certain meats because of my vegetarian philosophy, and I avoid processed foods when I can because I don't even like to classify them as foodstuffs. Sometimes it's just a case of "I haven't eaten paella since I got the flu on my trip to Toledo."
But when I can, I take chances to add to my favorite foods. Developing tastes is one of the best parts of life, even if it means trying a few unappealing dishes now and then.
This past summer, I tried seafood for the first time in probably over 12 years. A friend to whom I had never announced "I hate seafood" casually asked if I wanted fish, and I found myself without a good reason to decline.
I'm still not sure why I'd "never liked it." Maybe it has to do with being dragged to fish fries during Lent when I was in grade school - I'd throw tantrums until a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich appeared. Now, within the course of just a few months, I've tried just about everything from tuna and flounder to eel and calamari, and I have no plans to turn back.
Give it a chance. If you haven't had it in a while, try it again (preferably not in the dining hall, which is not the ideal culinary atmosphere to test your feelings toward tofu). Take some recommendations on preparation from people who consider the item one of their favorites, and pretend for a moment that you don't hate it.
Maybe you'll get to stop ordering your salads sans garbanzo beans. The worst-case scenario is that you'll still be wary and can pass the dish on to your misguided friend.
But don't try this with turnips. Turnips suck.
Kate Peck is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at katherine.peck@tufts.edu.
