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2001.09.05 Various Rantings
2001.08.28 Roller Coaster
2001.08.27 Snowstorm
2001.08.26 Walking in the Rain
2001.08.24 Stash It or Trash It
2001.08.14 the calm before
2001.08.09 still moving. . . .
2001.08.05 Ready, Aim,
2001.07.31 Pizza and Strife
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2001.07.27 2, 1, 0, der Alarm ist rot
2001.07.26 Genmaicha
2001.07.21 cereal box religion
2001.07.20 Office supply list:
2001.07.19 . . . crash.
2001.07.16 Why it's important
2001.07.13 Miscellaneous Pathos
2001.07.12 Pecans Cilantro & green
2001.07.11 Everything I Touch
2001.07.10 sometimes . . .
2001.07.09 time, time to
2001.07.08 P.C. at Taco Bueno
2001.07.07 God & Machiavelli
2001.07.06 Blue Monday Friday
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Pecans Cilantro & green
So the topic came up the other day, why do people like and dislike different foods? I'm not talking about when someone gets sick on watermelon and never eats it again, or when someone hates the texture of tapioca because it's too mushy. I'm referring to things some people have never liked, and for no good reason.

Pecans, for example. I don't like them much. I never really have. Other nuts are just fine, but to me pecans taste really really really bitter and dry. They're not the worst thing I can imagine, and they're okay when mixed with other things (like in pralines, or ice cream in small amounts, though pecan pie is just about too much pecan for me), but if they taste that bitter to everyone else, I can't imagine why most people would eat them as much as they do.

People don't eat peach pits, do they? Or acorns?

It got me to thinking, then — maybe there's something more than just taste (no pun intended) involved.

I remember in 9th grade biology class doing a whole lab on genetic traits — eye color, tongue rolling, ear lobe length, finger length, and so on, and one of the tests involved tasting a piece of paper which contained a chemical called PTP (I think). I couldn't taste it. The people who could writhed from the overwhelming bitterness of it. It was even more fun to show off the fact that I could chew on the piece of paper indefinitely — to watch people's looks of horror, that stuff must have been indescribably awful to the people who could taste it.

Obviously, it's not the same chemical, or I'd be okay with pecans, but who's to say it's not the same principle? Pecans are great unless you can taste the bitter thing in them. . . . I've heard people make really odd bitterness claims about some other foods, too: cilantro (ask your friends — they'll either like it okay or despise it), asparagus, chocolate. My sister has never liked cottage cheese — twists her face up and winces when she even tastes it. I don't think she's lying, but I think it tastes alright, at least.

Perception is a far less universal thing than I'd once thought, and sometimes I still wonder if it's not limited to PTP, pecans, and cilantro. Is what I call green the same color you see? Does a headache hurt you the same amount that it hurts me? Do we perceive a minute as the same amount of time in our heads? Since the only ways to measure these things is relative to those same perceptions, I don't think there's any way to ever know. . . .