There were a couple teaspoons of pistachio salad left after the turkey leftovers had been put away. "Do you want to finish it off," I was asked. Umm, have you met me? There's pineapple in it.
I do not like pineapple. At all. Consequently, I will avoid any and all desserts, beverages or salads that have any trace of pineapple in them, including a family favorite at Thanksgiving. But here's the thing. Two days earlier I insisted we have pineapple on the pizza we ordered. I know, I know. I'm impossible.
Pineapple on pizza is such a divisive issue we might as well be talking left versus right politics. We can look to a restaurant in Canada that put us at odds on this path. It was the 1960's and Greek immigrant brothers running a restaurant in Ontario were inspired by flavors out of Italy, as well as the North American take on Chinese food involving unique food pairings. They spread canned pineapple and sliced ham on top of their cheese and tomato-sauced pizza base. The result is either a classic dish or culinary crime, depending on where you stand on the topic.
Scientists say a genetic factor is at work here influencing how sensitive an individual might be to certain tastes. When pineapple is cooked a chemical reaction offsets the aroma and flavor and, for people like me, makes the pineapple palatable. It can come down to genes. Others can't tolerate the changes that happen as pineapple cooks so their brains react negatively. I can eat pineapple on my pizza but don't make me eat it raw. I'm not picky. It's science!
It doesn't end with pineapple, though. I feel the same way about the tomato.
I love salsa. The same goes for spaghetti sauce, ketchup, casseroles and just about anything else that is tomato-based. I love it. But I dislike raw tomatoes. They never find a way onto a sandwich and trust me, the first thing I do when getting a burger is remove any tomato slice that might be tucked between the bun and the patty.
I am far from alone in this. Researchers have determined the antioxidant lycopene may be a factor along with the heating process which changes the tomato's chemistry. There are two dozen compounds that relate to the taste of a tomato that apparently some people simply do not respond to well until it is cooked. Therefore, we are genetically predisposed to being unable to eat them. I don't need any research to confirm what I already know. Recognizing how contradictory it may seem, I value tomato products, but don't like the individual tomato.
Regardless of whether some of us like to eat these products au naturel or not, there are things that certainly can be gleaned beyond their flavor or aroma.
A pineapple needs a community to grow. It is the result of dozens of individual fruit-producing flowers that fuse into a single fruit and grow into a pineapple. The pineapple needs the community for it to grow into what it is to become.
Similarly, research suggests that one of the world's most popular garden crops—tomatoes--benefit from interplanting; growing two or more different types of plants together to promote efficient growth and increase the harvest. The presence of other plants helps the tomatoes become bigger and better versions of what they might otherwise have been.
On our own, we are unique individuals—ones others can choose to take or leave. We are not everybody's taste, to be sure. But it's good to consider that we are capable of becoming enhanced versions of ourselves when we come together and help each other grow. Even better is when we all share in life's stresses and pressures because that can transform us all into something distinct. The same, yet altogether new.
As raw ingredients we each bring pretty significant stuff to the table. Pairing us with someone different from ourselves adds greater richness. Then put us all together, allow us to undergo some heat and hard things alongside one another, and the end result is a rather substantial meal. There’s plenty of room for all the weirdos who won’t eat tomatoes and who put pineapple on their pizza. Pull up a chair and join in. That's my outlook.
