I was the youngest of three—all Baby Boomers. Food was undergoing a radical change during our childhoods, and our mother was a terrific cook who enjoyed trying new recipes. We weren’t always the most receptive to her attempts, but there was a policy in our household that ended up proving momentous in our lives: Whatever Mom prepared we were expected to try. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it, but you have to give it a chance,” was our parents’ mantra. And how they found a YWCA camp in Bear Mountain with a similar outlook is beyond me, but we were made to have one “No thank you” portion of any given food item at breakfast, lunch and dinner at Camp Wiquannupek. Not so easy when Wednesday’s lunch contained both beets and Spam.

The interesting result of such an upbringing was three intrepid, adventurous adults who were game to try pretty much any food set before us. Dad worked in Midtown Manhattan in advertising. There was a plethora of ethnic restaurants in the surrounding blocks, and when one of us kids would meet him for lunch we were introduced to Japanese, Italian, Spanish and even Turkish food. It was all new to us, but rather than finding it daunting, we were excited to explore new taste sensations. 

The first time Dad introduced my brother, Buzz, to Japanese food, Buzz ordered a great big platter of a variety of raw fish each on its own bed of rice. There were some other ingredients on the plate, including little dishes for soy sauce, thinly sliced pickled ginger, a pile of finely julienned white radish and a small knuckle-sized lump of bright green wasabi paste (a pungently spicy condiment meant to be used sparingly). One mixes a tiny amount of wasabi into the bowl of soy sauce, where it adds a bit of intriguing zing to the experience. 

Well, Buzz had no idea of what anything on his plate was, and his very first move was to lift up the entire pile of wasabi and pop it into this mouth. My father was frantically waving his hands about and hissing, “No, no, not that!” But it was too late, and smoke was nearly coming out of my brother’s ears. And yet, he absolutely loved the sushi once his mouth and nasal passages had had a chance to clear out. 

I’ve never fully understood people who will not give a food they’ve never had even the slightest chance. My friend L. was brought up in Flushing, Queens—one of the most diverse ethnic areas in all of New York. They rarely ate out, though they were within walking distance of many restaurants. Her mother cooked mostly Italian food to please her finicky husband while periodically preparing a few dishes she’d learned from her Hungarian mother. As an adult, L. has an aversion to many foods. She’s unnerved by the look or texture of some things and simply won’t taste anything that doesn’t sound or look appealing to her. In this way, she’s difficult to dine with, as so many foods are verboten. 

On the other hand, my pal B. grew up in the Bronx, one of six kids. If his family ate out at all, it was in fast food restaurants. When I brought him to Tilly’s Diner in Monticello, he ordered eggs, toast and potatoes without specifying how he wanted the eggs, toast or potatoes prepared. Annoyingly (I’m sure), I pestered him, “Don’t you like your potatoes crispy?” “How do you like your eggs?” Stupidly, I didn’t make the connection that at McDonald’s or any fast food joint one doesn’t have a choice in how it’s prepared. 

Yet B. has an insatiable interest in exploring flavors. Once, we sat in my apartment surrounded by a feast from a local Indian restaurant. He gladly scarfed down crunchy onion fritters dipped in hot mango chutney, tangy tamarind and cooling yogurt raita dipping sauces; naan flatbread studded with chilies; lamb rogan josh, in which the meat is stewed until it has an intense depth of flavor; and the spiced rice dish, biryani. 

A single father bringing up two young girls, he asked me to teach him the basics of cooking, and we spent many hours preparing interesting dishes we thought his kids would enjoy. Here is a person who want to be challenged by the vastness of the flavors and textures out there.

Eating out with C. is always a pleasure. We enjoy trying new restaurants and dishes whenever we get together. We share everything. We have eaten Japanese, Chinese, Italian, Vietnamese, Korean, Middle Eastern and Georgian (Russian) food together. One of our strangest choices in a Japanese restaurant was when we ordered Takoyaki octopus balls. They are a strange-looking kind of round dumpling made with grilled puffs of seasoned batter with small pieces of chopped octopus meat in the middle, and served topped with a sweet and savory sauce, bonito (fish) flakes and seaweed. We couldn’t get enough of them!

So, why not broaden your own horizons, take a leap, and try something you’ve never had before? You don’t have to finish it if turns out unappealing. But go for it. Just taste it!

The recipe here uses ingredients popular in Pakistan and India, so the flavors are exotic and intriguing. Many people think “curry” when they think of the foods of those countries, and are turned off, but there is way more to it. “Curry” is simply a spice mixture, made differently throughout both India and Pakistan; it is not even present in many dishes. This is one of my favorite recipes and every time I’ve served it to guests, I’ve gotten raves.