When I was 5, my extended family was sitting around the table eating lobster. It was bright red. I distinctly remember thinking it looked disgusting. I had no interest in participating, but my mother was resilient. She handed me a couple of those long, bony legs, and said I wasn't allowed to leave the table until I tried one. I succumbed immediately (my mother was a powerful, passive-aggressive disciplinarian) and was pleasantly surprised by the flavour. By the end of the meal, I'd eaten 8 legs and 2 claws. From that day forward, I trusted my mother's taste implicitly. Even when I didn't enjoy something, I still had to consume a specified amount of it before I could have dessert. Two brussel sprouts. Half a slice of meatloaf. Five generous bites of liver.
Based on my upbringing, there are very few things I don't eat. Although I can't stomach the idea of devouring live cockroaches or swallowing minnows that can still swim, If it's edible and it's cooked, I'm positive I would be willing to try it. I eat sweetbreads, I eat curry, I eat tandoori, I eat cottage cheese, I eat green olives, I eat giblets, I eat guacamole, I eat every fruit and vegetable known to man (prunes, plantains, brussel sprouts, turnip, beets, mushrooms, green peppers, squash, spinach, broccoli, etc.), I eat hummus, I eat feta cheese, I eat ostrich, I eat knishes, I eat bacon, I eat pho, I eat sushi, I eat falafel, I eat dill pickles, I eat bison, I eat fish, I eat crabs, I eat moussaka, I eat duck, I eat tofu, I eat oysters, I eat carpaccio, I eat gumbo, I eat dim sum, I eat pizza, I eat coleslaw, I eat poached eggs, I eat corned beef hash, I eat escargot, I eat tripe, I eat fibrous cereals, I eat poutine...
I have NEVER understood how people can pass up the opportunity to expand their culinary horizons. Food rules, period. I'm just thankful that I was taught from a very early age how to enjoy it [ALL of it].