In 2024, I resolve to go beyond my comfort foods and go on a culinary world tour | Opinion

Like most everyone else I know, I did a lot of eating last month, gorging and guzzling everything offered. I didn’t want to be rude or inconsiderate of others’ efforts, so I ate. Very polite of me, no?

It wasn’t just deliciously elaborate meals, either. There were also cookies and rum balls and candied nuts and caramel popcorn and cupcakes. In short, a veritable sugar feast. I wasn’t picky about what I consumed. My reasoning? There’s always the new year to eat less and do better.

So, now it’s 2024 and I’ve reverted to my pseudo-healthy eating, but I’m still left to wonder about something I’ve been noticing a lot lately. It seems to me that I’m surrounded by people who possess amazingly discerning palates.

While I divide my culinary preferences into I-like-this and I-don’t-like-this, many of my friends and family can thread out the ingredients that give a dish its special flavoring. Their taste buds are sophisticated enough to actually analyze what makes something so yummy. In the meantime, I’m busy stuffing my face in a hurry.

I’ll give you an example of my undeveloped, immature, pedestrian taste buds. Out on the town for a special occasion, we dined at a fancy restaurant, enjoying a cauliflower side dish so astoundingly good that I was tempted to lick the plate clean. Rather than embarrass myself, I asked about that lip-smacking undertone of something.

“Some kind of chili pepper,” The Hubby replied.

Huh.

We’re good friends with a couple who think of cooking as a virtue to be cultivated daily and with gusto. Food is for consumption and nutrition, yes, but also a form of art. They were foodies before the label became an identity, before food culture took over the hip scene. Naturally, I’m always angling for an invitation to their house.

A few months ago, our friends spent a morning shopping at various Asian stores and then came home to cook all afternoon. They asked us over for a Vietnamese-inspired meal that had my taste buds doing a happy dance. I was, however, the only one who couldn’t pick out the basil and cilantro. Instead, I made piggy snuffling noises of appreciation. That was the extent of my contribution to the conversation.

With wine, I’m equally unschooled. After decades of occasional indulging, I have arrived at a favorite — pinot noir — though I will sip pretty much any kind. I can also manage a very basic pairing of wine with food but little beyond that.

Yet, my worldly friends are able to describe a fine glass as floral or woodsy, fruity or nutty. They sniff the wine, they swirl it, they announce their approval with admiring sips. I’m simply happy to drink it, thankful that someone in the know is choosing.

My tongue can make out four flavors: sweet, salty, bitter, sour.

That’s the extent of my tasting talent, honed over years of consumption. Not long ago, however, I was surprised to discover there’s a fifth main flavor called umami, or what I would refer to as savory. It’s found in cooked meats, gravies, broths, tomatoes, cheese, and soy sauce. Fermented foods like miso are also high in umami flavor, too.

This makes me think someone somewhere will uncover another flavor, just like scientists constantly name a new species when they come upon it in the wild.

Anyway, the point is that my palate needs training in this modern era of food as enlightenment and urbanity. In that vein, I hope to expand my meal choices in the coming months. Move over, canned sardines in olive oil, a comfort food that is a lunch favorite.

I want to be bold. I want to be adventurous. I want to sound knowledgeable. I want my taste buds to be so refined that I can announce with impressive authority, “Is that thyme in my soup?”