bringing back the "no thank you" portion

One day, a long long time from now, I’ll probably have some kids. And as karmic retribution will surely dictate, they will be picky little shits just like I was. It’s only fair. Until I was seven or eight, I was loath to eat much more than elbow pasta with butter. If there was red sauce involved, I required a bowl on the side so I could painstakingly dip each individual noodle. To put it simply, I was the bane of my food loving parents’ existence for a while, but they pressed on with a technique that I fully intend to implement with my future finicky children.

Though they entertained my kiddy eating habits to a degree, they would regularly institute what they called “no thank you" portions of new dishes that my sister and I were required to try. The purpose of this strategy was two-fold: expand the narrow repertoire of things I liked to eat, and teach me manners so that I would never be that brat wrinkling my nose at food served in someone else’s house.

The concept is simple, and I think, as important for adults as it is for little kids. Unless you have an allergy or a moral opposition, suck it up and take a few bites. It shows respect for the person serving you, allows you to try new things, and is much better than saying “No, thank you.”  It’s not always tasty, but in my humble opinion, social grace trumps the fact that you don’t like broccoli.

Now, I recognize that some people have a few foods they find so repulsive that they just cannot eat them, some of which are even grounded in science. Cilantro haters, you get a pass. The New York Times said so.

Offal is another one that I can come close to understanding, but I think gets an unfair rap simply because it’s so unfamiliar to most people. Americans are turned off by many cuts of meat that the rest of the world uses out of necessity. I’m not saying you have to eat a big bowl of tripe to placate me, just that overall, it’s silly to refuse something because you’ve never tried it and the idea of it kind of weirds you out. That goes for all food, not just foreign animal parts. For the record, fried sweetbreads and beef tongue tacos are delicious. You should try them.

The idea of the no thank you portion stuck with me long after my buttered noodle days, and I credit it with my open-minded approach to eating. I love trying new dishes and cuisines, and experimenting with unfamiliar ingredients in my kitchen. Stumbling onto a new flavor is as exciting for me as finding a gorgeous pair of shoes on sale. And I especially love when someone is thoughtful enough to cook a meal for me, even if it happens to contain a few things I wouldn’t have chosen myself. In my opinion, it’s one of the purest forms of hospitality.

Of course, on the flip side, I’d be mortified as a host to find out that I’d served someone something they hated, only to have them politely suffer for my sake. But that’s why I always ask about likes and dislikes ahead of time, and try to serve things that aren’t notably polarizing. Easy enough.

As for the foods I struggle with, there are a few, but rounding out the top would be cooked spinach (I don’t like soggy, wilted greens of any kind), injera bread (it’s cold, sour, spongy and the color of dishwater) and most cheese. 

That’s right, I don’t like cheese. I’m aware that this makes me a rare and bizarre specimen, and I’ve been questioned by many a foodie friend who can’t understand how someone like me, otherwise obsessed with food, exists without it. It’s not for lack of trying!! All I want in this world is to share a cheese plate with friends and compare our snooty impressions. But I’m working on it…

The other night Jake and I went to dinner at Obelisk, an amazing restaurant in DC that serves a cheese course with the meal. It’s the sort of restaurant that would gladly make a substitution to accommodate the tastes of its guests. But since I’m trying to train my stubborn palate into submission, I elected to follow the rules of the no thank you portion. 

Long story short, I sampled them all, and, not wanting to seem like a tasteless ingrate (and ashamed by my own lack of refinement), I ended up hiding the majority of what I am sure were beautiful varieties of Taleggio and Chèvre in the bread basket. Like an eight year old. But with different motivations.

As I said, the outcome of the no thank you portion won’t always be tasty. But it’s worth trying anyway.