How the Tastes Do Change

I despised cooked carrots when I was a child. It didn’t matter how they were dressed, I hated the taste and the way they felt in my mouth. A carrot was supposed to be crisp, cold, and crunchy, with a sweet fresh, almost grassy, taste. It wasn’t supposed to be mushy or sugary with glaze. Putting a cooked carrot in my mouth was alien and gross. I ate them anyway, because that’s the way I was trained, but I remember one of the joys of going to college and being on my own—the ability to refuse to eat cooked carrots. That measure of control over my own life caused me endless exultation.

When Kevin was a child, there were a lot of things he hated. Lima beans, pinto beans, black beans, beans of any kind except green ones. He didn’t like fish or anything spicy. Baked and mashed potatoes were in, but au gratin was out.

There were a few other quirks about his palate, but I learned to cook for him and we have lived and eaten harmoniously together for more than 13 years.

Recently, however, we have noticed some changes. For one thing, I like cooked carrots. I discovered this fact about myself about a year after our second child, a son, was born when I made glazed carrots for a traditional Thanksgiving feast. I was not planning to eat any, but I did have to taste them before I served them. Surprise, surprise. I found them to be pleasantly crisp-tender and not overly sweet with their glaze of butter, brown sugar, lemon juice, and thyme.

That I could enjoy something I had hitherto despised was a revelation to me. I could chalk up the change to the influx of hormones my body had received while I carried my son. But that explanation would not work for Kevin, for whom no such thing had occurred, but who had been experiencing similar changes in tastes.

Fish, for example. Creatures of the sea have never endeared themselves to him. But I have been able to make various shrimp dishes which he enjoys. Once, after a fishing trip we took with my dad, I cooked some red snapper fillets which were well received. He still won’t eat fried oysters with me, but he does enjoy the fish sandwich at our favorite beach restaurant.

He even likes my favorite preparation of au gratin potatoes, which I took from The Gourmet Cookbook, which credited the technique to Jacques Pépin. What I do is put thinly sliced potatoes and onions in a sauce pan and barely cover them with half and half. I bring them just to a boil and then transfer them to a greased baking dish, layering the potatoes and onions with a mixture of Gruyère, Parmesan and Romano cheeses. I pour the half and half over all and bake at 400˚ until they’re tender, maybe 25 minutes or so, depending on their thickness. Excellent with meatloaf, naturally.

As for spicy things, let me tell you that in the last 3 months, we have had Buffalo wings no less than half a dozen times, always at his request, and that's the reason for all these photos. Over the years he has tolerated the various spices I have used in meat rubs and chili, but for him to ask for hot wings is remarkable. Six times!

I grill the wings (let the fire burn down to medium to avoid excessive char), or deep-fry them, and my sauce is the traditional mixture of equal parts butter and hot sauce (we like Frank’s) with a splash of cider vinegar, so there’s no need for a recipe. The only thing you really need is blue cheese dressing and celery and carrot sticks. These should be not, of course, be cooked.

I rejoice in the way our palates have expanded, but acknowledge that it’s probably too much to hope that one day he will enjoy limas.