I do not know when I stopped liking marshmallows or cantaloupe. What I also do not know is when marshmallow then transmogrified into a food that inspires physical horror and discomfort at its mere mention. (Reader, my spine tingles in pain as I write those eleven letters.) Meringues and honeydew remain, somehow, pleasurable. What I can say is that marshmallow and cantaloupe, which were perfectly acceptable to child Jonathan, have become either an absolute aversion to me as an adult, or a strong dislike.
Societally we speak often of growing into foods: strong cheeses, bitter and umami tastes, and vegetables. But what about growing out of tastes? This post is about what tastes one might grow out of, and what that looks like.
I am not writing based on any scientific research. Rather, I am communicating what I learned from asking friends and social media connections, as well as finding various articles on this topic across the internet – including from many food bloggers. Many people, it turns out, had parallel experiences to mine with marshmallows and cantaloupe, albeit with other foods.
Quite a number shared that their tolerance for sweetness had reduced. For example, one friend cannot eat candy anymore; another mentioned that a childhood favorite ice cream now inspires nausea. I have noticed that my capacity for a certain kind of saccharine sweetness is now gone, too. For a few people, a small sweet tooth disappears totally. Many other newly disliked foods were downstream of a reduced taste for sweetness: some people spoke of a newfound dislike for persimmons, juice, packaged cakes, or bananas.
This is part of a natural process: as we age, our taste buds become less attuned to sweetness. In addition, as our palates grow, we also develop new expectations that put less emphasis on sweetness. And while I cannot speak to the science of how that translates to new dislikes, I can say that it feels parallel to other types of “outgrowing” we see in our lives.
The conversation around sweetness reminded me of what Bee Wilson very aptly called “kid food” in her book First Bite: food that is designed, marketed, and intended for children – though enjoyed by all ages. (Think dinosaur nuggets.) So much of “kid food” around the world is eye-wateringly sweet. While others have discussed the ample impacts of this sugar consumption at length, what interests me is how this tendency can lead people to think of sweetness as something for children. Consider, for example, how less sweet desserts are often called “adult” or “for grown-ups.” Many dislikes shared with me seemed to parallel this social norm: for example, a reduced love of fast food (which can also be quite sweet).
There were other outgrown tastes too. One person noted that they could not eat excessively salty things anymore. Fellow neurodivergent people, like me, gained some aversions too: towards cold cheese, fish, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, walnuts, and tea, among other things. While we often associate aversions with autistic children, they persist – and often develop – in adulthood!
In considering this input, my friend Margaret’s comment really stuck with me: she spoke of allowing herself to dislike things that she always disliked. Indeed, that is an important lesson: it is okay to not like some things. Many adults take a whole lifetime to accept that lesson. While we often celebrate learning to like new things – which is good! – I think we need to make room for Margaret’s point here too. Being okay with not liking something is a learned skill, and one in which we can all support each other.
And that’s a form of disappointment – which is not only something one learns to accept, but also the root of the other response I found most interesting. One friend noted that she found herself not outgrowing things, but rather finding herself disappointed by certain things – and offered the example of a zebra cake. I found this observation deeply resonant, as there are many foods I would now consider not unlikeable, but disappointing. What comes to mind first for me is the granola bar, which I now generally find to be a little odd texture-wise. Beyond this, though, I think my friend did find a different type of taste and growth: because is it not true that growing, in taste and other things, includes learning how to be disappointed?
Thanks to many friends for talking to me about what you stopped liking!
