Bow Tries a Guava

Then, again, maybe there is such a thing as an acquired taste, after all. No sooner had I come to the conclusion that Bow knows instantly exactly what he likes, I was presented with a counterexample.

Now that it's fall, there is a variety of fruit available at the store, including pomegranates, avocados, and guava. I am not really that big a fan of guava, but this time the fruit looked so small that it seemed unusually attractive.

The guava fruits are so small this season, they look like lemons next to the apples and the bananas. Yesterday, I offered Bow a guava. He took a sniff of it, and then he gestured with it toward my mouth. He wanted me to eat it. So I did, pausing every so often and offering some to him. He kept sniffing in my mouth, but he refused to eat the guava. "Well, that's that," I thought. "He doesn't like guava."

But then later in the afternoon Bow's friend who brings the bananas came by, and I offered her a guava, too. When Bow saw that his friend was enjoying the guava, he suddenly became very interested. '

"Bow do you want some guava, too?" I asked him. This time, when I offered him the fruit, he started eating it. In fact, he took it with him to sit on the other side of the door from his friend. They each ate their guava while looking at one another through the grid. I guess that's what you might call social eating.

The Artichoke

Some foods, they say, are an acquired taste. People have to be socialized into liking them, because these foods do not just jump out at our senses and introduce themselves to us as food. If somebody doesn't tell us, we won't even realize that they are edible. And when we try them, our taste buds feel underwhelmed. But in time, in the right social setting, we may become accustomed to them, and we may even grow to like them.


Artichoke has often been classified as an acquired taste. Last night, I made the experiment of introducing Bow to artichoke.

While Bow did not at first know how to approach the artichoke and had to be coached on how to eat it, he seemed to like the taste of it right away. In time, he found his own way to eat an artichoke.

However, as is often the case with him, Bow did not agree to leave the best for last. Once he figured out that the heart was better than the leaves, he went straight for the heart. And having had his fill, he ate no more.

So while the taste for artichoke was successfully acquired in a single tasting, I don't think Bow will be dining on artichoke again anytime, soon. Artichoke eating at my house is an exercise in deferred gratification. We start with the outermost leaves and work our way up to the heart. If  you can't handle deferred gratification, no artichoke for you!