| Humor Non-Fiction posted November 16, 2023 |
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Not as great as it might sound
My Wife, the Supertaster
by Jim Wile
My wife is what’s known as a supertaster. She has twice as many taste buds as most people. That sounds like a good thing, right? Surely that would enable her to distinguish the subtle flavors of a fine wine, where she would be able to tell you there is just a trace of boysenberry and a hint of starfruit in it. Except that she can’t stand wine or any beverage stronger-tasting than, say, white grape juice.
If you don’t know about supertasters, you might think that gourmets are probably all supertasters because they claim to enjoy many foods that most of us wouldn’t choose to eat if we were starving to death, and it was the only means of sustenance—like fried spiders or casu martzu, which is translated as “putrid cheese” and is made from sheep’s milk containing fly larvae, aka maggots. If my wife is any guide, I think gourmets must have half the number of taste buds rather than twice the number to kill the flavor of such disgusting things.
How do I know she’s a supertaster? There is a simple experiment you can do. Use a hole puncher to cut a hole in a piece of paper. After staining your tongue with food coloring to make the taste buds stand out, place the hole over the stained area of the tongue and count them. We did this to my wife, my son, and myself. My son and I both had 17 taste buds in the hole, while my wife had 35, which is indicative of a supertaster.
Note: Make sure to punch the hole in the paper, not the tongue. I made that mistake the first time when I failed to read the directions correctly.
In the early days of our marriage—and by early, I mean maybe the first two days—she was the cook. When she served me dinner one night, she asked me how it was. I told her it was missing something. When she asked what, I said, “flavor.” I don’t remember what it was she served, which is kind of the point, but I suggested that perhaps I could take over the cooking duties. She was more than agreeable to that, and I’ve yet to relinquish the job in 50 years of marriage.
If you ever want to lose weight, though, hire my wife to cook for you. She prepares the food well enough; it just lacks that key ingredient: flavor. I would probably be 40 pounds lighter if she had remained the cook. Have you ever had a cold and lost your sense of taste and, consequently, your desire to eat? That’s what it would be like.
As far as seasonings and spices, salt is about the only one she truly likes. Everything else must either be left out or severely limited in its application. I once watched her make a large pot of soup, and she put two twists of the pepper mill on a very fine grind in it. Two twists in three quarts of soup! That’s about 1/32 of a teaspoon. Virtually any amount of heat in a dish, and she can’t tolerate it.
You can imagine how difficult it is for her to eat out in a restaurant. She's one of those annoying customers for whom every kind of sauce or salad dressing has to be served “on the side” so she can limit the amount she puts on her food (or can easily ask the wait staff to bring her something milder when it proves too strong for her). Many times, I have traded my meal for hers because hers was too spicy, and mine was less so. (What a guy, huh?) She once ordered a burger and forgot to tell the waitress to hold the black pepper. After one bite, she went into a paroxysm of coughing that lasted for 10 minutes. She’s not allergic to it; it just burns her throat. She’s never since forgotten to remind the wait staff.
So, what will she allow me to serve her at home? As limited as the menu is, I still usually prepare two versions of a meal: hers and mine. I often won’t apply seasonings or spices until I’ve separated hers out and only season my own. (What a guy, huh?)
I’ve listed the many disadvantages of being a supertaster. Are there any advantages, you might ask? Well, if someone were to taint your food with cyanide (which tastes like almonds), rat poison (which tastes like cinnamon), or 4-methylcyclohexanemethanol (which tastes like licorice), being a supertaster might just save your life before you eat a lot of it. Other than that, I can’t think of a single advantage to this affliction.
Now don’t get me started on the fact that she’s also a supersmeller, who, I’m convinced, was a bloodhound in a former life. If I fart in the attic while she’s down in the basement… Well, never mind. Perhaps I’ll tell you about that another time.
My wife is what’s known as a supertaster. She has twice as many taste buds as most people. That sounds like a good thing, right? Surely that would enable her to distinguish the subtle flavors of a fine wine, where she would be able to tell you there is just a trace of boysenberry and a hint of starfruit in it. Except that she can’t stand wine or any beverage stronger-tasting than, say, white grape juice.
If you don’t know about supertasters, you might think that gourmets are probably all supertasters because they claim to enjoy many foods that most of us wouldn’t choose to eat if we were starving to death, and it was the only means of sustenance—like fried spiders or casu martzu, which is translated as “putrid cheese” and is made from sheep’s milk containing fly larvae, aka maggots. If my wife is any guide, I think gourmets must have half the number of taste buds rather than twice the number to kill the flavor of such disgusting things.
How do I know she’s a supertaster? There is a simple experiment you can do. Use a hole puncher to cut a hole in a piece of paper. After staining your tongue with food coloring to make the taste buds stand out, place the hole over the stained area of the tongue and count them. We did this to my wife, my son, and myself. My son and I both had 17 taste buds in the hole, while my wife had 35, which is indicative of a supertaster.
Note: Make sure to punch the hole in the paper, not the tongue. I made that mistake the first time when I failed to read the directions correctly.
In the early days of our marriage—and by early, I mean maybe the first two days—she was the cook. When she served me dinner one night, she asked me how it was. I told her it was missing something. When she asked what, I said, “flavor.” I don’t remember what it was she served, which is kind of the point, but I suggested that perhaps I could take over the cooking duties. She was more than agreeable to that, and I’ve yet to relinquish the job in 50 years of marriage.
If you ever want to lose weight, though, hire my wife to cook for you. She prepares the food well enough; it just lacks that key ingredient: flavor. I would probably be 40 pounds lighter if she had remained the cook. Have you ever had a cold and lost your sense of taste and, consequently, your desire to eat? That’s what it would be like.
As far as seasonings and spices, salt is about the only one she truly likes. Everything else must either be left out or severely limited in its application. I once watched her make a large pot of soup, and she put two twists of the pepper mill on a very fine grind in it. Two twists in three quarts of soup! That’s about 1/32 of a teaspoon. Virtually any amount of heat in a dish, and she can’t tolerate it.
You can imagine how difficult it is for her to eat out in a restaurant. She's one of those annoying customers for whom every kind of sauce or salad dressing has to be served “on the side” so she can limit the amount she puts on her food (or can easily ask the wait staff to bring her something milder when it proves too strong for her). Many times, I have traded my meal for hers because hers was too spicy, and mine was less so. (What a guy, huh?) She once ordered a burger and forgot to tell the waitress to hold the black pepper. After one bite, she went into a paroxysm of coughing that lasted for 10 minutes. She’s not allergic to it; it just burns her throat. She’s never since forgotten to remind the wait staff.
So, what will she allow me to serve her at home? As limited as the menu is, I still usually prepare two versions of a meal: hers and mine. I often won’t apply seasonings or spices until I’ve separated hers out and only season my own. (What a guy, huh?)
I’ve listed the many disadvantages of being a supertaster. Are there any advantages, you might ask? Well, if someone were to taint your food with cyanide (which tastes like almonds), rat poison (which tastes like cinnamon), or 4-methylcyclohexanemethanol (which tastes like licorice), being a supertaster might just save your life before you eat a lot of it. Other than that, I can’t think of a single advantage to this affliction.
Now don’t get me started on the fact that she’s also a supersmeller, who, I’m convinced, was a bloodhound in a former life. If I fart in the attic while she’s down in the basement… Well, never mind. Perhaps I’ll tell you about that another time.
 Recognized |
#20 November 2023 |
I didn't make this term up; it's an actual thing. It's estimated that 25% of the population are supertasters, 50% are average-tasters, and 25% are so-called nontasters who have about half the number of taste buds as the average-tasters. Those are the ones you've seen dumping half a bottle of hot sauce on their eggs and spending 5 minutes sprinkling pepper on them. Anything to add flavor.
I'm sure it's more of a spectrum, though, and you may lie anywhere on it. My wife is undoubtedly in the 99th percentile of this spectrum.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. I'm sure it's more of a spectrum, though, and you may lie anywhere on it. My wife is undoubtedly in the 99th percentile of this spectrum.
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