I really liked reading this essay and wanted to pull some quotes out of it.

Here’s the original so that you can read it yourself

If I don’t enjoy something, I won’t lie about it. But I also won’t call it “gross” or “weird” or “bad.” I prefer “not for me.” It’s simple, neutral, and—most importantly—kind. It leaves room for the idea that someone else might love what I couldn’t finish

It’s honestly kind of rare for me to find food I don’t enjoy. So I’m not really sure what my genuine reation is in that situation. However, I hope I can keep this phrasing (“not for me”) in mind.

It sounds a lot like a tiktok I heard a while ago where there’s this idea. My mom likes to ask “Do you know how to eat ____?”. I never really thought much of the phrase, but it clicked for me when I watched this TikTok that talked about this same idea: food preference in Cantonese can be reframed as “I don’t know how to appreciate this food for what it is”. I can’t find the video though and maybe I’m reading too deep into the phrase: 識唔識食.

Which is probably why I always notice the people who treat food like a first draft. The ones who start editing before they’ve even tasted it.

It’s not wrong. It’s not even rude. It’s just fascinating. A little funny.

I know I try things plain or as presented before modifying it for myself. I agree it’s a little funny to edit something before tasting it because then how to do you know the best way to adjust the taste?

My assumption here is that you are trying new food and feel the need to edit and then try. This leads to two scenarios in my mind and maybe a control issue here that needs to be addressed.

If you automatically reach for ketchup, is that because this thing in front of you is so unfamiliar you need the ketchup as an anchor point for exploring? This falls into the category I just described where I think you have no ground to actually have an opinion right now. So eat and then edit.

Or if it’s a familiar thing and you still reach for ketchup, is it because you’re used to it being bad and in this is the only way to get through it? This feels like a bias is coming in and not letting you try a new take on an old thing.

I’ve seen the other end of the spectrum, too—the people who are too polite. The ones who finish a plate even when they’re full. The ones who nod and smile while chewing something they want to spit out. Who say “yum” when they mean “never again.”

Some of us learned too well how to be grateful. We were taught to say thank you even when we didn’t mean it, and to finish everything even when it made us sick. To waste nothing. To swallow politeness with every bite. And while that isn’t always healthy, it does come from somewhere tender—a deep understanding that effort deserves acknowledgement.

I think every effort deserves a clap. Sometimes that clap is an applause. Sometimes though it’s a critique. But there is a fine line between being kind and being rude.

So when I see someone wrinkle their nose or push a plate away too quickly, I don’t get angry. But I do wonder if they’ve ever known hunger

And maybe—just maybe—being a picky eater is a kind of luxury. Not in the indulgent sense, but in the confidence it takes to say, “No, I don’t like that,” and know you’ll still be fed. It takes a certain level of comfort to reject food. To assume there will always be another option. Another fridge. Another meal. It’s not wrong. But it’s worth noticing. Not everyone has that kind of safety. Some people eat what’s in front of them because the alternative is nothing.

I’ve never been food insecure. If I am failing to see any struggle in food security in my past, props to my family for hiding it so well. But I wouldn’t really call myself a picky eater by any definition of the phrase. Like this author is saying though, maybe that’s out of necessity because my mom working all of the time and didn’t have time to make alternate meals.

So maybe this isn’t just about picky eaters after all. Maybe it’s about the choreography of feeding and being fed. The etiquette of taste. The language of care. Maybe it’s about learning how to say “no” without unkindness, and how to say “yes” without swallowing yourself whole. And maybe, most of all, it’s about remembering that every dish—whether it’s devoured or declined—is still a story someone wanted to share.

I think this was a great way to wrap up the entire essay.