14 foods that people either love or absolutely cannot stand

You know that feeling when someone puts something on your plate and you have to do the polite face? The ‘oh wow, interesting choice’ face? Yeah. These are those foods.

Some of them are divisive for actual biological reasons — there’s real science behind why cilantro tastes like dish soap to roughly 10% of people. Others are just texture things, or childhood trauma things, or ‘my mom made it wrong every time’ things. Either way, people have feelings. Strong ones.

I’ve been on both sides of some of these debates and I’m not here to tell you what to like. But I do have opinions. Obviously.

Is cilantro actually soap, or are you just wrong?

Cilantro is the most personally offensive herb in the grocery store, depending on who you ask. For a solid chunk of the population — roughly 4–14% according to genetic research — a variation in the OR6A2 gene makes cilantro taste genuinely, unmistakably like dish soap. Not a little bit like soap. Like you licked a sponge.

For everyone else, it’s bright and citrusy and makes tacos taste like tacos are supposed to taste. It’s one of those rare situations where two people can eat the exact same thing and have a completely different experience. If you’re a soap-taster, parsley is your friend. If you’re not — well, put it on everything.

Pineapple on pizza: is this even still a debate?

Hawaiian pizza has been causing dinner table arguments since Sam Panopoulos invented it in Ontario in 1962, and somehow we’re still at it. The pro-pineapple camp loves the sweet-savory thing — it’s the same reason you put honey on fried chicken or jam on a grilled cheese. Contrast is delicious.

The anti-pineapple people argue fruit doesn’t belong on pizza, which is interesting considering tomato is a fruit but nobody’s out here making that point at the same volume. I’m not telling you what to order. I’m just saying the argument is a little inconsistent.

Black licorice is a hill some people will die on

Black licorice is genuinely one of the most polarizing candies ever made, and I think the people who love it know exactly who they are. It’s bold, it’s anise-forward, it tastes like something your grandmother kept in a dish by the front door — and for some people that’s a warm memory and for others it’s a warning.

The haters describe it as medicinal or bitter. The fans would describe it as the only candy worth eating. There’s no middle ground here. You already know which side you’re on.

Do mushrooms deserve their bad reputation?

Mushrooms get a bad rap almost entirely because of texture, and honestly — that’s fair. A properly roasted mushroom with good seasoning is deeply savory and satisfying. A soggy, barely-cooked mushroom thrown into a casserole is a different food entirely and should be treated as a crime.

The people who say they hate mushrooms usually hate bad mushrooms. If you’ve written them off after one encounter with a rubbery button mushroom from a can, I’d encourage you to try again. Cremini roasted in butter. Shiitake in a stir fry. You might surprise yourself. But what do I know?

Why do anchovies have such a PR problem?

Anchovies are one of the most misunderstood ingredients in the kitchen. When people hear the word, they picture a whole salty fish on top of a pizza and immediately say no. But anchovies dissolved into a pan sauce or whisked into a Caesar dressing? That’s the reason those things taste as good as they do.

The umami they bring is hard to replicate. They essentially disappear into whatever you’re cooking and leave behind this deep, savory backbone that makes people go back for seconds without knowing why. If you’ve been skipping the anchovies, you’ve been skipping the best part.

Brussels sprouts and the childhood grudge

Brussels sprouts got a bad reputation for decades because everyone was boiling them into oblivion. Boiled Brussels sprouts smell like sadness and taste like defeat. Roasted Brussels sprouts — hit with olive oil, salt, and enough heat to get some caramelized edges going — are a completely different vegetable.

The rehabilitation of Brussels sprouts is maybe the greatest food glow-up of the last twenty years. If your last memory of them involves a school cafeteria or a 1994 holiday dinner, I’m asking you to give them one more shot. Roast them. Season them. Don’t apologize for eating the whole pan.

Is blue cheese worth the commitment?

Blue cheese asks something of you. It’s pungent, it’s sharp, it smells like it has opinions, and it does not apologize for any of that. The people who love it are loyal in a way that borders on personal.

The people who don’t — and look, I understand — usually land on the mold aspect as the dealbreaker. Which is fair! You are eating mold! That’s not nothing! But if you’ve only ever had the aggressive grocery store kind, it’s worth knowing there’s a whole spectrum from mild and creamy to ‘this cheese is practically sentient.’ Start mild. Work your way up. Or don’t. Also a valid choice.

Oysters: delicacy or dare?

Oysters are the food that most reliably separates the adventurous eaters from everyone else at the table. Raw oysters have a texture that people describe as either luxurious or like swallowing something that fought back, and both descriptions are accurate.

The flavor is genuinely oceanic — briny and clean when they’re good. If the raw thing is a hard no, grilled or fried oysters are a completely different experience and genuinely delicious. The texture changes entirely. Worth knowing before you write them off for life.

Pickles: why is there even a debate?

Pickles are one of the foods I feel most confident defending. Tangy, crunchy, cold — they make a burger. They make a sandwich. They make a charcuterie board look like it has its act together.

The anti-pickle crowd usually has one of two complaints: too sour, or the texture. Both are real. But with the number of pickle styles available now — bread and butter, spicy dill, half-sour, fermented — there’s almost definitely a version that works for you. And if not, okay. More for everyone else.

What’s the actual problem with coconut?

Coconut hatred is almost always a texture thing. The shredded coconut that ends up in cheap macaroons or on top of a grocery store cake has this waxy, chewy quality that I genuinely understand not enjoying. But dismissing all coconut because of that feels like quitting.

Coconut milk in a curry is silky and rich. Coconut cream in a cocktail is smooth. Toasted coconut flakes on a slice of cake are an entirely different experience than the sad untoasted variety. The ingredient isn’t the problem. The preparation usually is.

Wasabi: how much of what you’ve had is even real?

Here’s a thing most people don’t know: the green paste sitting next to your sushi at most American restaurants is almost definitely not real wasabi. It’s usually horseradish and mustard powder dyed green, which is both a little funny and explains why it hits so differently than the real thing.

Actual wasabi — made from the fresh grated rhizome — has heat that flares and then disappears quickly. It’s sharp but not brutal. The imitation version lingers in your sinuses like a punishment. If you’ve written off wasabi because of the fake stuff, the real thing is worth seeking out. And if you just love the heat, keep going. No judgment.

The liver situation

Liver is one of those foods that gets handed down as a love or hate based almost entirely on how it was first introduced to you. If someone cooked it right — properly seasoned, not overdone, served with something that complemented it — you might be a liver person. If it was dry and gray and smelled like a biology classroom, you are not.

The texture is genuinely challenging. Dense, slightly grainy, and the flavor is strong in a way that reads as either deeply savory or completely inedible depending on your palate. Chicken liver is generally milder than beef liver and a better starting point if you’re curious but cautious.

Beets: earthy or dirt-flavored?

Beets taste like the earth they came from, and people feel differently about whether that’s a feature or a bug. The flavor compound responsible — geosmin — is the same thing that makes soil smell like soil after rain. Some people find that grounding and delicious. Others find it genuinely unpleasant in the way that only eating dirt can be.

Roasted beets with goat cheese and some kind of acid, like in a salad I’d actually make again, are genuinely good. Beets in a jar from the grocery store that taste like they’ve been marinating since 2009 are a different product entirely. Fresh preparation makes a real difference here.

Why does everyone have such strong feelings about mayonnaise?

Mayonnaise discourse is exhausting and also never going away. The mayo haters are loud and they are everywhere and they will tell you about it unprompted. The thing is — most of what makes food good involves at least a small amount of mayo in the background, even if nobody admits it.

Aioli is mayo. The sauce on your sandwich that you love? Probably mayo-based. The creamy dressing you like? Starting to see a pattern? The hatred of mayo as a concept versus mayo as a component in something delicious are two wildly different positions, and plenty of people hold both at the same time without noticing.

Durian: the most committed divisive food on this list

Durian earns its spot at the bottom of this list because it’s the most all-in example of food that people love or hate with their entire personality. The smell — which has been described as everything from vanilla custard to gym socks depending on who you ask — is strong enough that it’s banned in many hotels and public transit systems across Southeast Asia.

For the people who love it, it’s creamy, complex, and worth every bit of the drama. For everyone else, just knowing it’s in the building is enough. It is, objectively, the food that demands the strongest opinion.

The thing about these foods is that most of the hate is just a bad first experience sitting in the driver’s seat. Mushy mushrooms. Oversalted anchovies. Fake wasabi that lit your face on fire. Bad introductions leave marks.

But some of it is just who you are. The cilantro soap thing is real. The durian smell is real. You’re allowed to have a hard no.

Just maybe try the Brussels sprouts one more time. Roasted. I mean it.

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