] Though de Amicis was describing his feelings about
] Moroccan cuisine, this is precisely how I felt about
] desserts in Indian restaurants until 1989, the year that
] I, formerly a lawyer, was appointed food critic of Vogue
] magazine. As I contemplated the heavy responsibilities of
] my new post, I realized how inadequate I was to the
] honor, for I, like everybody I knew, suffered from a set
] of strong and arbitrary likes and dislikes regarding
] food. I feared that I was no better than an art critic
] who becomes nauseated by the color yellow, or suffers
] from red-green color blindness. At the time, I was
] friendly with a respected and powerful editor of
] cookbooks who so detested the flavor of cilantro that she
] brought a pair of tweezers to Mexican and Indian
] restaurants and pinched out every last scrap of this herb
] before she would take a bite. Imagine the dozens of
] potential Julia Childs and M.F.K. Fishers whose books she
] pettishly rejected, whose careers she snuffed in their
] infancy! I vowed not to follow in her footsteps.
]
] It went even deeper than that. Humans were designed to be
] omnivores. Blessed with all-purpose dentition and
] digestive systems, we are ready for anything. Unlike
] those of most other animals, our genes do not tell us
] what foods we should find tasty or repulsive.

It is a nice article about learning to eat food. And while
I respect his thesis -- he's wrong. And it is interesting that
he mentions cilantro as a example.

I am a very adventurous eater. There are things (cooked seafood)
that I don't like, but I occasionally will eat; and I will try
anything (guinea pig? yum!) at least once. But I try to avoid
cilantro. Because the taste is awful for me. It literally tastes
like soap, texture and all.

But I like his lactose point. Everyone I know is starting to claim
lactose intolerance.