It’s OK for toddlers to be fussy eaters. What about when you’re grown up?
Version 0 of 1. Research about why toddlers are fussy eaters always makes headlines. More than a mere national obsession, the subject has become a national neurosis. Last week a study suggesting that mealtime pickiness in small children is half attributable to genes was reported as “fussy-eating toddlers ‘not the fault of parents’”, and “Fussy eating habits of children are down to genetics not bad parenting, scientists conclude”. The simple act of feeding children, it seems, is yet another aspect of having babies that has become plagued with overthinking and anxiety. All too often, it’s presented as another battle for which we must arm ourselves with the latest bossy handbook (should I be an Annabel Karmel disciple, or join the baby-led weaning posse?). Is this partly a symptom of modern malaise: too much choice, too little patience and too much exposure to highly palatable junk food that makes real food taste, by comparison, like bin juice? As is often the way with consumer culture, it all feels a little chicken-and-egg. Irrespective of who started it, to some extent the avalanche of solutions perpetuates the problem. Toddlers, after all, have many good excuses for picky eating. They have more than twice as many taste buds as adults. Coupled with the shock of unexpected tastes and textures, flavour for them is turned up to 11. Poor fine motor skills and grasp of table manners don’t help, either; they find it easier to paint the floor, walls and congealed crevices of high chairs with food than to transport it to their stomachs. They can already start blaming their mother, too, because taste preferences and sugar addiction can start in the womb. Plus growth and development spurts lead to inconsistent appetites. There's that heart-sink moment when, as a treat, a chef plonks a giant nob of butter on top of a perfect steak Adults, on the other hand, have far less justification for being finicky, other than having had longer to mess ourselves up, and to nurture phobias and psychological scars from years of being forced to finish poorly prepared swede. But by the same token, we’ve had many years to explore and get used to different flavours. Humans are omnivores, and our food likes and dislikes are learned. Precise causes for adult food aversions are hard to fathom, because they’re so personal and varied (although having vomited a food is a common trigger), and often started in the hard-to-recall mists of youth. They are, however, predominantly all in the mind, and surmountable. Most of us actively like coffee and alcohol – tastes that are innately disgusting to uninitiated palates. The bitterness and astringency set off our potential poison alarms, but peer pressure and the perceived rewards strong-arm our usually self-protective brains. Even genetic food hatreds, like coriander (carriers of the OR6A2 gene can’t stand the herb), can be overcome. So is there any good justification, food allergies and intolerances aside, for fussy grownups to wince at what’s on offer or demand special treatment on social eating occasions? Eating with others, the breaking of bread, the sharing of sensory pleasure, is a big part of human bonding. So it’s awkward, almost an affront, when perfectly good food you’ve prepared is viewed with disgust and pushed aside. I say this as a card-carrying fusspot. My loathing for butter causes no end of problems, from being heavily restricted in sandwich buying, to that heart-sink moment when, as a treat, a chef plonks a giant knob of butter on top of a perfect steak. But mostly, I would hate to offend or disappoint anyone who has cooked for me, and will try my hardest to eat and feign enjoyment anyway. I don’t have the will to train myself out of these aversions. I tried this with goat’s cheese once – my plan was to have a tiny amount every day – starting with just a lick. This is a proven technique (psychologists call it “mere exposure”) for overcoming a food hate. But after three days the project lost momentum. Aversions become part of your personality – they’re hard to let go of. Life may be too short to waste time being a fussy eater, but it’s equally too short to faff about by the fridge, licking disgusting foods. However, I do try to avoid wearing my food aversions as an identity badge. I’m not proud of them. They just are. Maybe one day, they will naff off. Meanwhile, there will always be the supertaster defence. Supertasters have more taste receptors in their mouths, so food tastes stronger. They tend to be pickier, and intolerant of bitter foods such as coffee or broccoli. In this respect, we supertasters are more physiologically like children when it comes to taste. Except we’re adults, so we are not excused. |