“Vegetables are something God invented to let women get even with their children,”
author PJ O’Rourke once wrote. He further opined that more people might eat vegetables if they
didn’t taste like the dirt they were grown in.
Vegetables don’t taste like dirt to me—what they taste like, usually, is nothing if
something isn’t added: salt, pepper, seasoning, relevant dressing, something. Raw celery is just
crunchy water. When I finally tried raw carrots as an adult, I learned what crunchy air tastes
like.
Broccoli, green beans, and cauliflower neither here nor there for me. Many vegetables
are like that now; I’ll willingly eat them if served, but if I never ate them again, I wouldn’t
bemoan it on my deathbed. To this day I find canned peas disgusting, and if you want me gone
all you need do is cook them because I can’t stand the smell.
Beets? People willingly eat these things outside of famine or siege?
Growing up autistic, I was a picky eater and had the usual limited palate of someone on
the spectrum. Safe foods were meat, fries, chocolate, spaghetti, some varieties of fruit, pizza,
seafood (oddly enough), milk, juice, bread, salads, and the vegetables above. I did not do
casseroles or stews or anything that mixed foods together, that was beyond the pale. My guess is
that it was a matter of taste, I don’t recall ever being repelled by food texture or appearance, like
many autistics.
From The Gentle Autistic we have the term ‘beige food’:
The informal term…is used to describe the kinds of foods that many autistic people –
children and adults alike – find less challenging to have in our diets. because of their pale,
uniform colour, they are mild in taste and smell, many of them are soft (some autistic people
prefer only crunchy foods). What unites them is that they are comforting and predictable,
particularly if we, as we so often do, stick with very specific brands. They also have the benefit of
being quick to cook, if indeed they need cooking at all!
Following are some examples: white bread, cereals, chicken nuggets, pasta, and so forth.
Beige food was called comfort food back in my day—reliable and predictable, the same
old-same old that would spark eventual revolt among neurotypical children. Taste was a factor
for me, but so was unfamiliarity, that aversion to the new common to autism. Even a new shape
mattered: I was fine with spaghetti noodles but rotini? That weird, spiral-shaped pasta
resembling a drill bit? You want me to eat that?
Which leads us to confession time: I’m a little out at sea on this topic. I don’t have
children so I’ve never experienced parental frustration over yet another rejected food item. My
own childhood is distant enough that I can’t pinpoint specific mealtime incidents. I do recall
family and friends trying to persuade me to try this, which confused me because if I didn’t want
it, why would I try it? What sense did that make?
Therefore, I feel I can’t offer specific advice on picky eating or as it’s sometimes called,
‘autistic food restriction’. I outgrew much of it as I aged, but I understand if parents would
prefer not to wait years for improvement.
I had a vague outline of tips and suggestions in mind but chanced upon The Wyrd Sisters
(https://thewyrdsisters.co.uk/autistic-comfort-foods-breaking-beige-boundaries/ ) , and feel their
step-by-step approach to the issue is more comprehensive than anything I might produce.
Mike Minnis is a guest blogger and client. His books can be purchased on Amazon. Visit his website at: www.michaelminnisbooks.com/index.htm
author PJ O’Rourke once wrote. He further opined that more people might eat vegetables if they
didn’t taste like the dirt they were grown in.
Vegetables don’t taste like dirt to me—what they taste like, usually, is nothing if
something isn’t added: salt, pepper, seasoning, relevant dressing, something. Raw celery is just
crunchy water. When I finally tried raw carrots as an adult, I learned what crunchy air tastes
like.
Broccoli, green beans, and cauliflower neither here nor there for me. Many vegetables
are like that now; I’ll willingly eat them if served, but if I never ate them again, I wouldn’t
bemoan it on my deathbed. To this day I find canned peas disgusting, and if you want me gone
all you need do is cook them because I can’t stand the smell.
Beets? People willingly eat these things outside of famine or siege?
Growing up autistic, I was a picky eater and had the usual limited palate of someone on
the spectrum. Safe foods were meat, fries, chocolate, spaghetti, some varieties of fruit, pizza,
seafood (oddly enough), milk, juice, bread, salads, and the vegetables above. I did not do
casseroles or stews or anything that mixed foods together, that was beyond the pale. My guess is
that it was a matter of taste, I don’t recall ever being repelled by food texture or appearance, like
many autistics.
From The Gentle Autistic we have the term ‘beige food’:
The informal term…is used to describe the kinds of foods that many autistic people –
children and adults alike – find less challenging to have in our diets. because of their pale,
uniform colour, they are mild in taste and smell, many of them are soft (some autistic people
prefer only crunchy foods). What unites them is that they are comforting and predictable,
particularly if we, as we so often do, stick with very specific brands. They also have the benefit of
being quick to cook, if indeed they need cooking at all!
Following are some examples: white bread, cereals, chicken nuggets, pasta, and so forth.
Beige food was called comfort food back in my day—reliable and predictable, the same
old-same old that would spark eventual revolt among neurotypical children. Taste was a factor
for me, but so was unfamiliarity, that aversion to the new common to autism. Even a new shape
mattered: I was fine with spaghetti noodles but rotini? That weird, spiral-shaped pasta
resembling a drill bit? You want me to eat that?
Which leads us to confession time: I’m a little out at sea on this topic. I don’t have
children so I’ve never experienced parental frustration over yet another rejected food item. My
own childhood is distant enough that I can’t pinpoint specific mealtime incidents. I do recall
family and friends trying to persuade me to try this, which confused me because if I didn’t want
it, why would I try it? What sense did that make?
Therefore, I feel I can’t offer specific advice on picky eating or as it’s sometimes called,
‘autistic food restriction’. I outgrew much of it as I aged, but I understand if parents would
prefer not to wait years for improvement.
I had a vague outline of tips and suggestions in mind but chanced upon The Wyrd Sisters
(https://thewyrdsisters.co.uk/autistic-comfort-foods-breaking-beige-boundaries/ ) , and feel their
step-by-step approach to the issue is more comprehensive than anything I might produce.
Mike Minnis is a guest blogger and client. His books can be purchased on Amazon. Visit his website at: www.michaelminnisbooks.com/index.htm
