As an adult who is health conscious, I know why, but as a kid I could not understand why anyone would serve pickled beets to children of any age. I remember clearly the times when I was able to buy school lunch (my mom packed our lunches for various reasons and was ahead of the healthy eating gang way before social media) and seeing those diced, dark and purple cubes of horrendousness sitting in the compartment of the Styrofoam lunch tray would roll my stomach. I will say compartmented lunch trays are why I am not a fan of my foods touching each other to this day. I actually didn’t have an aversion to the look of the beets. The deep richness of their color attracted me initially. What I hated was the smell. And the smell was what they tasted like to me-dirt, plain and simple. Who feeds children diced up cubes of dirt?! Clearly the enemy of children’s culinary tastes and happiness had infiltrated the cafeteria. Because there was no way this could have been acceptable otherwise. But alas, they remained week after week, month after month, school year after school year, pickled, diced beets and… the thing is I can’t remember what else it was served with. Only the dread of the beets is what I see in my memories.

Fast forward to now, many decades later (how the hell did I become decades old) and I purposely bought a salad at a local, healthier than most, grocery store nearby. It seemed like a good choice in a quick perusal of the display of salads. The candied pecans and balsamic dressing made the choice easy since I have been opting out of eating meat so much. Got the salad home, pleased with my decisions of a salad instead of a cheeseburger (why is it always a choice between a hunk of meat and leaves) and opened it. And sitting right there behind the packaging logo or some other blockage was a HUGE pile of roughly chopped, pickled beets. Not only were there beets, but I had forgotten about the Bleu cheese sprinkles too. My immediate instinct said throw it all away and start again. Yet, I couldn’t do that. Being a recently laid-off person who is teaching PT in North Carolina, my bank account could not justify such treachery. So, I held my breath and remembered back to a few years ago when I had the strong feeling to taste oysters on the half shell again.

There I was with a good friend at an event where they were showcasing some of the food that would be available for purchase at an invite only picnic that summer. Several appetizers were available like charcuterie board cheeses, meats, and fruits as well as different types of wines to wash it all down. I vaguely remember a mini meatball or two but it may be my current hunger creating that memory. The event was well attended and there was even a 360 photo booth to try out. After we had done all the things and listened to the organizers hype up the coming event, a nagging feeling kept me from leaving. Once I leaned into what the atmosphere was saying, I went over to the oyster bar, staring in awe. But before I share what happened next, let me give you a little back story.

As a kid, I was the quintessential picky eater. Not only did I have foods I would refuse to eat, they would change with no rhyme or reason. For instance, I had decided one day that I no longer would eat sauce. No spaghetti sauce, no gravy, no to anything that resembled a tasty, well seasoned liquid. I swear I spent months eating spaghetti noodles with just butter when I was in the 2nd grade. I also had a big aversion to onions. I liked the taste of them in my food, but if my eyes could see it, I would no longer want it. I would literally starve than eat oatmeal, and I had become very adept at hiding scrambled eggs in various places around the house. On the flip side of that, if I really liked something, I would overdose on it. I have a clear memory of my mother fixing some appetizers for a party and me eating all of the pickles one time and olives another time. I even ate a whole mini can of mushrooms once. The worst of all, however, me eating the entire tray of deviled eggs my mom made for a party. How and why she didn’t send me into another century if baffling to me. Hands down, I was a food menace.

But, as an adult, I employed the try it first rhetoric with my children and with myself with limitations of course. Fortunately, none of my kids are picky eaters. They like things I still don’t like as an adult. They will try foods I would never like baby octopus and alligator. Their palates are diverse and I owe that to my mother. I raised my children downstairs from my parents until we moved from my hometown. Because of the close proximity to my mom in particular, my kids got to try things I would have never introduced them to like pickled beets. Not only was the school district I went to still serving beets at lunch, they were an item my mother kept in the house regularly. My kids would effortlessly devour them while I tried to hide my disdain. I was content with being a picky eater but I could not imagine my children being picky too. Mainly because I did not have the patience my mother did.

Remember, I said as an adult, I believe in trying things before saying I don’t like or won’t eat a food (within reason). That was the case with oysters. I tried them over ten years ago. My youngest daughter wanted them, and the happy hour price for food was right, so we got them. We had all the accruements, lemon, hot sauce, crackers. I tried it. I actually tried two and quickly realized it was no for me. Actually, it felt like a forever no. Many other opportunities had come over the years, but I merely said it’s not for me. No, thank you. So, as the time crept away and the event was close to ending, I found myself glancing over again and again at the line for the oysters. The nagging feeling wouldn’t go away, so I went over to the oyster bar. I told my friend I had a strong feeling that I would like them if I tried them today. The oysters being free.99 sealed the deal. I tried them I loved them. They were delicious and the fancy flavors available to try with them set them high on the pleasurable side of my tastebuds.

With the memory of discovering I do indeed like oysters on the half-shell but prefer them grilled, I had a decision to make on this salad. I could deprive myself of a good meal I had paid for assuming I still did not like beets, or I could try it. Fortunately, I tried the salad and discovered the beets AND Bleu cheese were very tasty in the salad. I could actually eat the beets independently and enjoy them too. And just like that, the feelings of dread I was experiencing right before writing this has faded away. All because sometimes your tastes, needs, and desires change. Instead of leaning into the dread of old ways and habits, I used the strong feelings that I could not name and wrote. How about you? What will your beets and oysters be today?