What were the vegetables you would eat when you were a kid? Mine were cooked peas and corn, raw broccoli and carrots. That’s it. I was a picky eater, not as picky as some, but I definitely had (have) very specific ideas about what I liked and what I didn’t.

I wouldn’t go anywhere near cooked spinach, any other cooked greens, cooked carrots, cooked broccoli, tomatoes raw or cooked, radishes, beets, any kind of dried bean in any form, whole grains… you get the idea.

Fear Knows No Logic

And I was terrified of peppers. Bell peppers. No one could convince me that they were not hot. I quite simply would not put one in my mouth. Until I got to Sweden, where my first morning in language school, my host mother laid out a full Swedish breakfast for me.

Having been raised eating cold cereal and fruit with the occasional pancakes and eggs, I was a bit confused by the array of cheese wedges, sliced deli meats, soft rolls and hard tack, and… sliced bell peppers. In my jet lagged haze I just stared at the spread, so my host mother cut a roll in half, spread it with butter, sliced some cheese to put on top and then added two slices of bell pepper.

You Want Me to Eat What?

I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t eat hot peppers, especially not for breakfast, but I couldn’t refuse the food she had take such care to lay out and then make for me. So, I took the open faced breakfast sandwich and tentatively took a bite. Of course, the pepper was sweet and I haven’t looked back since.

I remained convinced that my food preferences from childhood were still the same, even with proof to the contrary. When I was 20 my mom convinced me to try black bean soup and I liked it. Of course, it was just that one thing, right? And it was, because that was all I allowed it to be.

Baby Steps, by way of Veggies

One by one I allowed new things into my diet, becoming proud of finding ways that I liked brussels sprouts and hummus. My palate continued to expand and I joined a CSA. Upon the first delivery, I was faced with a box filled with things I had no idea what to do with. Collard and mustard greens, yellow summer squash, zucchini, turnips, eggplant and fresh purple hulled peas.

Obviously I hand’t given the idea of what actually grows in North Texas much thought when I came up with the plan to join a CSA. Because that list up there, that’s what grows in the early spring. Tea in hand and one by one, I found recipes that I would eat, sausage soup with white beans and greens, herbed sauteed squash, zucchini bread, turnip and potato hash, baba ganoush, and a cow pea and vegetable soup.

I got to the point where I would say that the only things I wouldn’t eat were capers, olives and Ethiopian bread. My hatred of olives was so strong that when I was a child I would insist that the open jar of olives at the Thanksgiving table be moved away from me, due to the risk of an… untowards event. I was convinced I would puke. The olive bar at Whole Foods? I would hold my breath while walking past it.

Telling Stories, Again

But I started to wonder, what if I was wrong, what if the story I was telling myself about hating olives was no longer true? At the same time, I was still convinced that intentionally eating an olive would make me sick. Disgusting evil little things that they were.

And so, toes in the water I went. At a wine and cheese tasting I tried a soft goat cheese with olives in it. I couldn’t tell they were there. The same with an olive bread. Okay so ingesting olives in small quantities hidden in other foods wouldn’t cause instant death or even gagging.

Run Away, Run Away!

Earlier this year while I was at Rally! I shared a salad with Havi. It had black olives in it and I started to ask about having them on the side but decided to see what happened. Mostly, I ate around them, but at the end, I tried one. It was salty and while I wouldn’t actually go so far as to say that I liked it, I didn’t hate it either.

Huh.

So, I now have a couple of questions:

1. Are there maybe some olives in that massive olive bar at Whole Foods that I might actually like?
2. What other stories have I been telling myself for so long that I just believe them without question?

And, of course, a question or two for you: What are your ‘olives’? What stories do you tell yourself, that may not be true?

In the comments:

We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)