Acquired Tastes

     On occasion, I’ve heard people refer to various things they indulge in – foods and beverages, mainly – as acquired tastes. Also on occasion, I’ve tried whatever it was they were rhapsodizing about and said, whether to myself or out loud, “Why on earth did you want to acquire it?” This has caused me a few awkward moments with such folks. The ones in the company of “authorities” on Scotch, or oysters, or kale have been especially awkward.

     All the same! Why does anyone set out to “acquire the taste” for something that strikes the “uneducated” palate as vile, hateful, and to be spat forth at once? I don’t get it, I’ve never gotten it, and I doubt I will get it on this side of the sod. No doubt it marks me as a Philistine incapable of appreciating the finer things.

     Well, as our French cousins once said, chacun a son gout. Each to his own case of gout. If I’m fated to be blind to these “refined” flavors and textures, so be it. I know what I like, and praise God, there’s plenty of it.

     But then we come to music. I once had a date ask me about my musical tastes – we were at that stage of the acquaintance process that lies squarely between the discussion of restaurant preferences and the ripping-off of clothes – and I mentioned that I greatly enjoy the music of Gentle Giant. (Don’t feel bad if you’ve had no exposure to Gentle Giant; they’re fifty years gone.) She made a face and said, approximately, “How could anyone enjoy that?” And I, realizing that I was about to call Gentle Giant an acquired taste, limited myself to only a pleasant shrug.

     (Never fear; we did get to the ripping-off of clothes one date later. All things in their proper course, don’t y’know.)

     It can be baffling. Some of music I enjoy most is difficult for others to endure, much less appreciate. And I must admit that I didn’t enjoy it much on first exposure. So how did the acquisition of those tastes come about? It wasn’t a conscious effort, I assure you.

     The acquired-taste phenomenon is worth exploring, though perhaps not this early on Sunday, September 1 in the Year of Our Lord 2024. I’ll be giving it more thought, I promise. For now, have a little music of the sort that makes the C.S.O. cringe and shake her head, but which I enjoy greatly: Spider John Koerner and Willie Murphy and their anthem “Bill and Annie:”

     Illegitimi non carborundum, Gentle Readers!