We're all born with very undeveloped pallets.  As babies we tend to start out pretty open minded, but by the time we hit two to three years old we've all but made up our minds about what we do and don't like.  It's hard to say what causes us to become picky about food.  Perhaps it's parents who are too heavy handed in their attempts to get us to eat food that's good for us.  Maybe the source of the problem has more to do with that pivotal moment when we first try something new and how well that experience goes.  There are plenty of tastes I have developed over the years that I didn't have growing up and I'd like to believe I'm better for the wear, but there are still some things that I absolutely cannot tolerate, even though I try to.  Here are a few tastes I have and haven't developed and even lost over the years:

Beer

Beer, really alcohol in general, is one of the archetypical adult beverages that we all make an attempt to develop a taste for.  In this country it's more of a right of passage than another flavor for our palettes. We can all remember our first sip of beer.  The obligatory "sure, you can have a sip, son" followed immediately by a scrunched face and feigned acceptance, all to the sound of adult laughter is how most of us remember our first experience with beer.  We spend years assuming that beer is the adults' best kept secret, imagining a flavor not too unlike honey mixed with sprite and a few other new sweet and delicious flavors our little minds couldn't possibly comprehend.  These assumptions come crashing down with that fateful first sip as we come to find out that either our parents had been deceiving us with their unquestionably fabricated fondness of that bitter liquid or that they must truly be worlds apart if in fact there does exist the possibility that they actually like the stuff.  For me it was several years later when I finally built up the courage to try to develop a taste for it again, but this time it was more about beer's 'other' qualities than it was its appeal as a forbidden fruit. 

It was actually at my brother's college house that I attended my first drinking party and happened late into my senior year no less. Up until that point I had been so self-righteously against all forms of drinking that I was actually unapologetic about having ratting out some friends for having a drinking party a few years earlier.  Here I was ready to take my first plunge into the world of gratuitous alcoholic consumption.  I was with a few buddies at the time and there was no way I was going to be a certifiable "sissy" in front of them, so it was either develop a taste or bust.  Knowing this, I asked my brother how he could possibly enjoy the taste of beer beyond the extracurricular effects.  It was at this moment that I had my lightbulb moment.  He told me "think of it as drinking bread."  Of course!  After all, beer is made from grains.  He then presented me with a tall glass of Guinness which I promptly sampled.  First of all, Guinness doesn't have nearly the edge that your typical American macro brew has or any pilsner for that matter, so that helped.  But it was the after-taste that really sealed the deal for me.  There it was, just as my brother had promised, the distinct taste of bread!  Needless to say I was hooked (not in the alcoholic kind of way, but the connoisseur way - cough, ahem) and spent the night in my car after the party was raided by the local police, dreaming of this magical concoction.

Fast forward to today and I, along with many of my buddies, am an official beer snob.  I abhor macro-brews and wax ad nauseum about local pale ales and eccentric foreign lagers.  Currently my favorite beer includes a host of Minnesota local such as Surly (Furious), Summit (EPA), and as my staple lager, Grainbelt Premium.  I'm proud to say I even have a buddy who actually brews his own liquid gold and actually does it well, whom I often mention when attempting to hold my own with proficient beer geeks.  Beer has become so much more than "liquid bread" though.  I can actually fool myself into identifying the nuanced flavors ("notes" for you purists out there) such as grapefruit rinds, cloves, and almonds.  My true love is anything pale; the "hoppyer" the better.  For those of you in or near Minnesota who like bitter beers you owe it to not only yourself but your fellow man and country to try Surly's "Furious" beer.  It's expensive but man is it ever a treat.

So beyond my inner-child's wildest dreams I've actually learned to not only tolerate but absolutely adore that disgustingly under-sugared and bitter liquid we sometimes refer to as "barley pop."  I kick back at night and reward myself with a frosty one and I make sure to keep a healthy stockpile on hand at all times.  I finally understand why monks spent so much time perfecting their brewing methods.  Although I'm not religious, beer is certainly responsible for getting me as close to what one would call "spiritual" as anything else.  Turns out the adults were keeping a wonderful secret to themselves - it just takes a while to develop a taste for it.

Coffee

Coffee how I adore thee, let me count the ways.  It's the beverage that fuels America, arguably more important than even gasoline.  My attempts to develop a taste for this wonderful black substance were substantially more deliberate than for beer and there were many reasons for doing so.  Sophisticated, intelligent people drank coffee.  The local Perkins was the only place in town that was open past midnight and there wasn't much else to do there but drink coffee.  Coffee's side-effects are decidedly more useful than beer.  It was a foregone conclusion that I'd have to develop a taste for it.  The problem with coffee, however, is that there isn't much else you can compare it to.  Beer tastes like bread, but coffee.. well.. tastes like coffee.  Because of this it's a difficult drink to get to know. 

At first, I as many people did, started out by spiking coffee with heavy amounts of cream and sugar.  This was the only way to make it bearable, but in doing so the flavor was essentially ruined or at the very least heavily doctored.  There came a point, however, that my purist tendencies kicked in and I decided that if I were to be any sort of respectable coffee drinker I was going to need to develop a taste for coffee black as Arab oil.  I'm not sure about when exactly it was that I started to not only stomach black coffee but crave it, but I do know one thing: if it wasn't for the caffeine, a coffee drinker I would be not.  Coffee pretty much solidified my assumption that as long as you're getting some high from a consumable you'll develop a taste for whatever disgusting flavor it puts forth.

When I wake in the morning, that first cup of coffee is pretty much the nectar of the gods.  I start to imagine myself indulging in the aromatic flavors of the South American jungle, my bitter-sensing taste buds springing into action and rejoicing.  The only way I'll take coffee at home is fresh ground, boiled, and in a French press, as this I have found is the best way to capture that wonderful and unique coffee magic.  My eyes literally open wider within the first two sips, long before any caffeine could have possibly entered the blood stream in any serious way.  It's the pavlovian response that I'm after, and frankly caffeine has all but lost its intended effect on me for all intents and purposes.  The association between productivity and bitter flavors has been securely imbued and there's no turning back.

(Really) Spicy Food

Now I've met plenty of people who fancy themselves spicy food lovers, but almost without fail they fall squarely out of their leagues.  People who truly rapture upon the consumption of repulsively spicy food are in a category all their own, and I'm not sure whether or not I'm proud to call myself a member of it.  Spicy food, as beer, was something I followed my Brother's footsteps to, or perhaps we were both genetically predisposed to capsaicin addiction, but whatever the reason I fell hard for extremely spicy food.  Just as it was for coffee and beer, my first experience with spicy food was a decidedly unpleasant one.  It was a taste of salsa from a bottle of Pace Picante Sauce, the "hot" kind, and I knew right then and there this was something to be avoided.  It's ironic that it was Pace, a sauce so mild to my taste-buds I'd consider using it too cool down after the food I've become accustomed to today.

Also like beer and coffee, the development of a taste for absurdly spicy food is tied to the physiological reactions one has above and beyond the sensation of taste.  In this case, we're talking about a more natural high: the endorphin rush.  Some people get addicted to running because of "runner's high" - I became addicted to spicy food because of the "spice-high."  People who can't stand spicy food often angrily question how I could possibly enjoy my meal when it triggers such a dramatic pain response but they are clearly missing the point.  With great pain can come great pleasure as I'm sure some great sadist has been quoted saying.  Here is a brief description of how capsaicin works when you injest it (from the all-mighty Wikipedia):

"The burning and painful sensations associated with capsaicin result from its chemical interaction with sensory neurons. Capsaicin, as a member of the vanilloid family, binds to a receptor called the vanilloid receptor subtype 1 (VR1). First cloned in 1997, VR1 is an ion channel-type receptor. VR1, which can also be stimulated with heat and physical abrasion, permits cations to pass through the cell membrane and into the cell when activated. The resulting depolarization of the neuron stimulates it to signal the brain. By binding to the VR1 receptor, the capsaicin molecule produces the same sensation that excessive heat or abrasive damage would cause, explaining why the spiciness of capsaicin is described as a burning sensation. "

So what capsaicin is essentially doing is telling your pain sensors, or more specifically your burn-sensors, to flip out and start warning your brain of danger.  Of course capsaicin is harmless when taken in reasonable amounts, but to your body it's a full on attack it it reacts accordingly.  If this false signal gets loud enough, the endorphins start to kick in much like they would if you were actually burning alive, but of course without the unfortunate side effect of death.  Again, we have a Pavlovian association here - that between the spicy food eaten and the endorphin rush received.  Contrary to what you might think I don't actually enjoy the feeling of being burned.  It is amazing, however, how much pain you can put up with when you know perfectly well there isn't actually any harm being done to you.  In fact, pain without actual harm is quite manageable. 

We all respond to highs in different ways.  Some people just love the feeling of a marijuana high; for me it's one of the most desperate and depressing states to be in.  Others love the depressant feeling of being drunk and go on to develop a taste for scotch, arguably one of the most reprehensible at first than almost anything.  For me, I love the feeling of being energized (coffee) and of calmness and euphoria (spicy food).  Because of that I crave coffee and spicy food far stronger than I do beer. 

To close, it's worth mentioning something I've lost a taste for over time:  Coca-cola.  Drinking pop in general was something I had to develop a taste for believe it or not.  The carbonation always caused me to hiccup and I think I might have been drinking it wrong if there is such a thing.  At any rate, I was long into my early teens before I actually started to like Pop (Soda for you non-Minnesotans).  However, once I developed a taste for Coca-cola I was hooked.  Flash back in time and you'll likely find me sitting in front of the computer or Sega Genesis sucking down the last of what was a full 12-pack of coke purchased that night.  When I hit college and around me 30th cavity filling I decided that it was time I stop drinking sugared pop once and for all and switched to diet.  This is a transition that is truly hellish.  There no extra benefit to developing a taste for diet Pop like there is for beer or coffee. All you're getting is a worse tasting version of the stuff you actually like and the hallow sense of satisfaction that you've become a little healthier.  If you can stick to it though, as I have, sugared pop soon becomes one of the most difficult things to stomach.  You wonder how you ever managed to down all 50 grams of sugar without your stomach turning, not to mention that amount times 12. 

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