For awhile, now, I’ve had a post baking in the back of my mind about how our tastes change as we get older. When I was a kid I liked chocolate. Chocolate chocolate chocolate. Give me some Count Chocula breakfast cereal and pour some Hershey’s Syrup over it. On the other hand, my mom would tell me how raisins were a special treat when she was growing up (nothing like the Depression to make shite a treat); meanwhile my dad loves him some corn on the cob. And watermelon? fuhgeddaboudit. He loves watermelon. Me? I never understood the fascination; watermelon was occasionally fun for the seed spitting fights, but give me a chocolate ice cream cone. I am reminded of that scene from Fatso, where Dom DeLuise is slicing bread for his skinny younger brother: his brother says, “Dom, I like bread, you love bread, I only like it.” Once in a great while I would appreciate some watermelon, but I only like it, I don’t love it.
Fast forward 30 years and I find myself in a great reversal. Chocolate is still great, but I only opt for it about 10% of the time, and I now love watermelon. It’s like being a gambling addict, because you never know if you’ll get a truly great one. But if you find that sweet, perfect texture, on a hot summer day… I’d rather be sitting on my deck eating ice cold watermelon, than even thinking about chocolate.
So I wanna say that taste is very much an adult versus kid thing, but not so fast – I’ve recently decided I want to bake pies as a hobby. I’ve outfitted myself with the dishes and the rolling pin and all the other accoutrements. (Let me just say, pie crust is a bitch, and my creations are decidedly wonky at the moment). The other day I made an apple pie a bit too heavy on the cinnamon and nutmeg. It reminded me of mincemeat pie. I liked it well enough, but I considered it a very “adult” taste. Except my nine-year old couldn’t get enough of it. Wait a minute, what’s going on here? S/he’s a Froot Loops lovin’ Pepperoni Pizza eater who shouldn’t be giving the time of day to a mince meat pie.
Meanwhile, the youngest kid (YK) loves – well love is too strong a word – really really likes broccoli! Go figure. The OK would rather catch on fire than eat a vegetable. And neither kid likes peanut butter much.
Gawd I love peanut butter. Maybe it’s the raisins and corn-on-de-cob of my generation.
Now. Back to figuring out how to get the *&^%# pie dough to quit sticking to the rolling surface…