When did I make peace with peas?

How did broccoli rise in the ranks of my menu preferences?

Why do I now crave Mexican cuisine when thirty years ago, I couldn’t stand it?

Like many things in life, I suppose our food preferences evolve over time. Many of mine have done a complete one-eighty.

Growing up in the sixties, vegetables were the enemy. I refused to go near a green bean or a stalk of broccoli. And cauliflower? Don’t get me started.

I think I know how that happened. My parents, like every other parent in the world, made the mistake of telling us that vegetables were good for us. I made the same judgment error with my daughter.

Once children learn that something is good for them, a process begins deep inside their little brains.

A little switch flips, causing a trap door to open, releasing a gerbil that runs on a small treadmill generating the electricity needed for a huge red light to come on that reminds them to rebel against anything that might be a benefit from a health standpoint. It’s a complicated process, but a natural reaction.

Our parents should’ve said “Peas? No, you can’t have any. That’s grown-up food, and I’d better not catch you eating them. They make you strong and smart, and you’re not allowed to be as strong and smart as we are.”

We would’ve been sneaking bags of frozen peas into our bedrooms late at night and snacking on them like potato chips. As teenagers, we would’ve bought them from pea dealers in dark alleys.

The one exception to my war on vegetables was spinach. My parents can thank cartoons for that one. Once I discovered that Popeye was okay with spinach, so was I. I loved to cram a whole helping in my mouth at once, pretend my arm muscle grew, and imagine myself pummeling my older brother into submission.

But something happened to me when I left my teens. Suddenly, a lot of foods I had gone out of my way to avoid all my life started to taste … well, good.

I began to realize that green beans and corn complimented the taste of roast beef pretty well. I realized that not all asparagus came out of a can with a picture of a green giant on it. I learned that when you grew it in your own garden, steamed it a little, and dipped it in a small amount ranch dressing, it tasted pretty darned good.

I still don’t understand cauliflower though. I don’t get why people like it at all. There’s simply nothing to it unless you smother it in cheese. I’m talking one part cauliflower and four parts cheese.

Today, it’s not just my taste for vegetables that has evolved. I have learned to appreciate all kinds of ethnic foods as well.

Thirty years ago, if you invited me to join you at a Mexican restaurant, I would’ve declined. I consumed a cheap Mexican TV dinner once as a child that soured my viewpoint of south-of-the-border food for a long time. Taco Bell was even out of the question until I hit my thirties.

But at the urging of friends, I gave it another chance. Now, my palate cries out for Mexican food at regular intervals, though my stomach cries out from time to time after I’ve consumed it.

It’s the same with Chinese food. As a child, my only exposure to oriental food came in a can with a Chun King label on it. It wasn’t very good at all back then, and only when I discovered my first really good Chinese restaurant did I give it another try. I’m hooked.

So students, our taste buds are creatures of evolution. The foods you hate today, you may crave tomorrow – except for the aforementioned cauliflower. I’ll never understand that one.

Kent Bernhardt lives in Salisbury.