Laura: That picky eater in your life—whether it's your child, your partner, or even you—isn't a picky eater because they were born that way. Their taste isn't destiny. It was built. Sophia: Okay, that is a bold claim. Because it feels so deeply personal, like it's part of your DNA. I have a list of foods I "hate" that hasn't changed since I was five. Laura: I think most of us do! But the good news is, that list can be rewritten. This whole idea is the core of a fantastic book we're diving into today: First Bite: How We Learn to Eat by Bee Wilson. Sophia: And Bee Wilson isn't just a food blogger. She's a Cambridge-trained historian and a multiple award-winning food writer. She comes at this not just from a nutritional angle, but from a deep, cultural, and historical one, which I think gives her a really unique perspective. Laura: Exactly. She argues that eating is a learned behavior, just like learning to read or ride a bike. And that single idea changes everything. The best place to start dismantling this myth is with a famous, and famously misunderstood, experiment from the 1920s.

Sophia: I think I know the one you're talking about. Is it the one with the babies who were allowed to eat whatever they wanted? Laura: That's the one. Dr. Clara Davis, a pediatrician in Chicago, conducted this incredible experiment. She took a group of newly weaned infants, some of them orphans, and for years, she let them choose their own meals entirely by themselves. Sophia: And what was on the menu? I'm picturing a baby-sized buffet. Laura: Pretty much, but a very specific one. The nurses would present them with a tray of 34 different foods. All of them were single-ingredient, unprocessed items. Things like beef, chicken, carrots, peas, apples, sea salt, milk. No sauces, no seasoning, no mixing. Just the pure food. Sophia: And the nurses just... watched? No "here comes the airplane" or "just one more bite of peas for grandma"? Laura: Zero intervention. No praise, no disapproval. They just recorded what the babies ate. And the results were astonishing. The children thrived. Their health was excellent. Over time, their diets were perfectly balanced, even though their day-to-day choices seemed chaotic. One day a kid might go on a "food jag" and only eat beets, the next day it would be all meat and milk. Sophia: So this is where the whole "wisdom of the body" idea comes from, right? That kids will naturally choose what's good for them if we just leave them alone. Laura: That's exactly how it's been interpreted for a century. It's become a cornerstone of intuitive eating philosophy. But Wilson points out the giant, glaring caveat that everyone conveniently forgets. Sophia: Which is...? Laura: The food environment! The babies could only choose from a menu of perfectly healthy, whole foods. There were no cookies, no chips, no sugary juices. The experiment doesn't prove we have an innate wisdom to pick broccoli over a brownie. It proves that in a perfectly healthy food environment, our appetite works just fine. Sophia: Whoa. Okay, that changes everything. The lesson isn't 'let your kids eat whatever they want,' it's 'curate their environment so any choice is a good choice.' That's a completely different message. Laura: It's a radical re-framing. The "wisdom of the body" can't compete with the modern supermarket aisle. Wilson tells this little story about a boy from her childhood they called the "cornflake boy." He would only, and I mean only, eat cornflakes with milk. For every single meal. At home, at friends' houses, everywhere. Sophia: I feel like every family knows a version of the cornflake boy. Laura: Right? And his mother was beside herself, but nothing could change his mind. His preference was learned and became incredibly stubborn. In his food environment, cornflakes were always an option, so that's what he learned to prefer. He wasn't born a cornflake-tarian. Sophia: That makes so much sense. We're not born with these preferences; we're born with the capacity to learn them. And what's available in our environment becomes the curriculum. Laura: Precisely. We are incredibly adaptable. Our tastes are not our destiny. Which leads to the next big question...

Sophia: Okay, so if our tastes aren't innate, how on earth are they formed? It feels so mysterious. How does a child actually go from hating something to loving it? Laura: Wilson breaks it down into a few key mechanisms, and it starts incredibly early. She talks about the "flavor window," a critical period between about four and seven months of age. Sophia: A flavor window? What is that exactly? Is it a real, biological thing? Laura: It is. It's a time when babies are uniquely open to new tastes. The flavors they're exposed to during this window—especially vegetables—can shape their preferences for years to come. Babies who are introduced to a wide variety of vegetable purees during this time are far more likely to enjoy those vegetables later in life. Sophia: So if you miss that window, are you doomed to have a picky eater? Laura: Not at all, but it highlights how early the learning starts. After that window, another normal developmental stage kicks in: neophobia. Sophia: Neo-what? Laura: Neophobia. Literally, "fear of the new." It typically peaks between ages two and six. It's an evolutionary safety mechanism. When toddlers started walking, it was useful for them to be suspicious of putting strange new plants in their mouths. Sophia: Right, so you don't eat the poison berries. That makes sense. But in the modern world, that translates to a fear of... asparagus. Laura: Exactly! And this is where social influence becomes so powerful. Wilson tells this wonderful story about a mother trying to get her three-year-old daughter to eat green beans. The girl refused. So one day, the mom brings the girl's favorite doll to the dinner table and starts feeding the doll tiny green beans, making exaggerated "Mmm, yummy!" sounds. Sophia: Oh, I can see where this is going. That's brilliant. Laura: For days, the doll "ate" the green beans. The little girl just watched. Then one evening, she quietly asked, "Can I have some of dolly's green beans?" She tried them, and she liked them. The learning happened through observation and positive association, not force. Sophia: That's incredible. So a parent's grimace when they serve Brussels sprouts is basically teaching the kid to hate them before they even take a bite. Laura: It's a huge part of it. We model our tastes for our children constantly. And this principle of learning through exposure and association is so powerful, it explains one of the greatest culinary mysteries. Sophia: Which is? Laura: How anyone, anywhere, learns to like chili peppers. Sophia: Huh. I've never thought about that. But you're right, the first time you eat something truly spicy, it just hurts. Laura: It's pure pain! The chemical capsaicin triggers the same pain receptors in your mouth that respond to actual heat, to being burned. No human is born enjoying that sensation. In fact, in many chili-eating cultures, mothers would traditionally put chili on their nipples to wean a toddler off breastfeeding. The baby's first experience of chili is literally one of trauma and rejection. Sophia: So how do millions of chili-haters become chili-lovers every year? Laura: Through a process psychologists call a "hedonic shift." The child sees their parents, their older siblings, their whole culture, enjoying this food. They see it served with delicious things like tortillas and beans. They are exposed to it again and again in a positive social context. Slowly, the brain re-wires. It starts to associate the pain of the burn with the pleasure of the meal, the endorphin rush, and the social connection. Sophia: So we literally learn to enjoy the pain. That's wild. It's the ultimate proof. If our brains can learn to reinterpret the sensation of being burned as something pleasurable, then surely we can learn to like beets. Laura: That is the entire, hopeful point of the book. Taste is not destiny. It is a skill.

Sophia: So when we zoom out, what's the biggest takeaway here? It feels like this is about so much more than just what's on our plate. Laura: It is. Bee Wilson's core message is one of profound empowerment. Our relationship with food isn't a life sentence handed down by our genes or our childhood. It's a story we learn to tell ourselves, a story shaped by memory, family, and culture. And the most hopeful part is that we can learn to write a new story, at any age. Sophia: I love that. It shifts the focus away from shame or willpower, which so often fail. It’s not about forcing yourself to eat things you hate. It’s about understanding the system—your own personal system—and then gently, patiently, retraining your palate. It’s about approaching food with curiosity, not coercion. Laura: Nothing tastes good when it’s eaten in a spirit of coercion. The book is full of examples of adults who taught themselves to like new foods, from a woman who only ate ketchup sandwiches to people who overcame severe eating disorders. The mechanism is always the same: repeated, low-pressure, positive exposure. Sophia: It makes the whole project of eating better feel less like a battle and more like an adventure. A sensory education. Laura: Exactly. So maybe the one thing to try this week is what Wilson calls a "Tiny Taste." It's a simple but powerful technique. Just take a pea-sized amount of a food you think you hate—olives, blue cheese, cilantro, whatever it is—and just experience it. No pressure to swallow it or like it. Just put it in your mouth and notice the taste, the texture. That's it. Sophia: I might actually try that with olives. I'm famously an olive-hater. Okay, I'm in. And for our listeners, let us know what you try! Find us on our socials and share your 'Tiny Taste' experiment. We'd love to hear how it goes, even if you still end up hating it! Laura: Especially if you still end up hating it! The point is the trying. The point is remembering that your palate is alive and capable of learning. Sophia: A beautiful thought to end on. Laura: This is Aibrary, signing off.