One of the best pizza places in my town is a hole in a the wall, under a bridge. Locals swear by it and I was introduced to it when I first moved here many years ago. Never a regular but I have been there several times. Then there was a decade long hiatus. Today we had my favorite pizza from there for dinner. It was nothing like the old times though qualitatively the pizza was just the same and just as good. Time has apparently done its work with my sense of taste,
Maturity brings more grown up (and healthier) eating habits, with an appreciation of robust flavours like game, sour cheese and anchovies. However, whether or not this is a sign of a sophisticated palate is moot. Some argue that because our tasting senses dull with age (especially if we smoke or scald our tongues often), we are simply more tolerant of pungency.
I am definitely very tolerant of pungency. Turning into my grandfather I suppose who ate slices of raw ginger in the morning to kick start his appetite. He ate like a bird the rest of the day but claimed the ginger cleansed his palate. It allowed him to enjoy the taste of whatever little he ate. I have to admit I find the raw ginger more and more appealing over time. But the amazing smoked oyster pizza just did not do it for me anymore. It might as well have been the frozen stuff from my local grocery store as far as my taste-buds could tell.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
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