My Fickle Aversion To Dairy
—My Fickle Aversion To Dairy—
Is not because I’m lactose intolerant. It began when I was a child. (At least, that’s the farthest back I can remember.) I was probably about five at the time. The moment was nothing of particular note: no projectile vomit; no cursing at the heavens to relent. I had a glass of milk with dinner. Three or four sips in the revelation struck: This bovine beverage is not for me.
That was the last time I’d tasted a glass of milk.
Since then the milk aversion has evolved to include dairy more broadly. I don’t eat much cheese, eggs, or yogurt. But I do enjoy cheese on pizza and sprinkled on pasta. I like scrambled eggs (but only at breakfast). I eat yogurt maybe once a year. I won’t eat cheese on a sandwich, nor will I eat it on a burger. I don’t like butter on toast, but fire me up if it’s spread on a cut of ribeye. Dairy products like cottage cheese might just be the worst of them all. A grated parmesan is [insert pinching fingers emoji here]. But if it’s melted over potatoes, forget about it. (Okay if it’s over garlic bread.)
Now this might not make much sense. Fear not, few things in life do. Like why do we have to do our taxes every year when the government knows how much we make and they penalize us if we input incorrect information and they make the process so damn tedious and cumbersome that we’re required to pay a computer or hire a person to do it for us because we’re afraid that if we screw up the feds are going to send us to prison or force us to watch Giants baseball until we submit and hail them liberators of the new union.
But I was chatting with some friends recently and, after a cursory investigation into the matter, some headway was made. We raised the following queries:
Do I dislike the taste? (No, I actually quite like the taste of certain cheeses, like parmesan.) The smell? (No. Who doesn’t enjoy a fine frozen, creamy confection?) The idea? (No.) Or perhaps it’s the texture? (If it’s especially chewy, yes.) The fact that it comes from an animal? (No. I love meat and fish.)
Did we have our Eureka! moment? I don’t think so. But we got close. Closer to this fickle aversion. Though upon further self-reflection, I’ve gleaned the following:
I don’t like dairy products on their own. Solo. The main event, not unless they’re a garnish to another player on the porcelin saucer. Nor do I enjoy seeing them—especially milk—added to meal preparations. Mixed in: okay. Because I do enjoy the product; I like milkshakes, and I like ice cream. And I love a good chimichurri cream sauce.
This is on ongoing investigation. But, perhaps you’re thinking this is easily solvable—that this is nothing more than a juvenile picky-eating disorder. That may be so. Time will tell. Hell, the Beautiful One got me to integrate vegetables into my diet when we started dating.
Anything is possible if you believe.
That’s all for today.
-Taylor
TJH -- 03.17.2025