I remember picking out every leaf and stem of coriander (or cilantro to the Americans) from my food when I was younger. To me, the dastardly rife garnish tasted absolutely foul like insecticide. I might as well spray Baygon into my mouth if I accidentally munched on an unsuspecting leaf.
What's the point of adding the herb as a garnish in the first place? By the time the dish reaches my table, it’s usually a mess of limp, slimy leaves. Vietnamese food, with its generous use of coriander, was especially a nightmare to me.
I can’t remember the pivotal moment when I tasted coriander again – and wasn’t repelled. Instead, it left a fresh, citrusy, herbaceous flavour akin to eating an aromatic flower in my mouth.
Emboldened, I ordered the kusetsuyo salad when I saw it on Ippudo's menu. The server who brought me the dish – and most certainly a coriander hater – couldn’t hide the look of disgust on her face as she set the plate of cucumber, avocado and coriander dusted with grated parmesan on the table. It was delicious.
As many as one in five people find that coriander has a soapy taste, according to Science Focus. If you do, you are likely to be super-sensitive to aldehydes, chemicals present in coriander, and as you guessed it, in perfumed soaps and detergents as well.
(Photo: iStock/spawns)
Here’s where it gets interesting. What makes you hyper-sensitive to aldehydes could be a mutated gene. Yup, mutants don’t only exist in comic books and movies, though a coriander aversion is a pretty useless super power. More specifically, the mutation involves the olfactory receptor gene known as Olfactory Receptor Family 6 Subfamily A Member 2. Or simply OR6A2.
“This is a classic case of genetics influencing flavour perception,” said Mary-ann Chiam, the senior principal dietitian at Allium Healthcare. Those with a variant of OR6A2 detect aldehydes, specifically (E)-2-alkenal compounds, as soapy or pungent, she said. Those who don’t have the gene variation find aldehyde-containing coriander “fresh and citrusy”.
“However, genetics only tell part of the story,” said Chiam. “Culture and upbringing play an enormous role as well. If someone grows up in a household where vegetables are regularly served in tasty, familiar ways, they’re more likely to accept and even enjoy them.”
The herb contains Vitamins K, A and C, fibre as well as trace amounts of folate, potassium, beta-carotene and lutein, according to Medical News Today. The entire coriander plant, including the leaves, stems, roots and seeds, is nutritious, although the seeds, which are often ground and used as a powder, tend to be less so.
Bits of sad-looking coriander as garnish. (Photo: iStock/pisanstock)
Previous studies on coriander have also found limited anti-cancer effects, migraine-quelling benefits, sun damage prevention and some anti-fungal properties. But as “wow” as the science seems, I’m taking my coriander with a figurative pinch of salt as the findings aren’t conclusive.
Besides, you would have to eat a lot of the herb, about 50g or half a compact, medium-sized bunch of fresh coriander – leaves and stems – to obtain about 155mcg of vitamin K, said Chiam. For context, men need about 120mcg, and women, 90mcg of vitamin K daily.
I still can’t figure out why my preference for coriander switched over time. Have my taste buds dulled over the years? “Some food aversions soften with time,” said Chiam. “As we age, the number of taste buds decreases and our sense of smell diminishes, leading to a reduced ability to detect some flavours.”
Chiam continued: “Sensory sensitivity is another important factor. The rough, fibrous textures of certain vegetables, especially those with stalks, can be off-putting for some individuals. This is particularly true among those with ADHD, where sensory-processing challenges may contribute to a dislike of vegetables.”
Of course, the reverse could be true for other people as well. “Some may remain sensitive or even become more averse due to health conditions leading to swallowing issues, medications that alter taste perception as a side effect, or changes in oral health (for example, dry mouth and having to wear dentures),” said Chiam.
(Photo: iStock/Jcomp)
Negative associations, such as food poisoning or finding a half-eaten worm in your salad, could also cause aversions to develop, said Chiam.
Despite my newfound love for coriander, I’m not about to munch on a bunch as a snack any time soon. But I have opened my heart and mouth to coriander-forward dishes such as a side of coriander salad to go with my poached eggs for brunch.
If raw coriander in banh mi is too big a leap for you, try what Chiam suggests: Blending coriander into salsas or chutneys, or incorporating it into curry bases or marinades. “Doing so can mellow its flavour,” she said.
“For those with sensory aversions, finely chopping coriander and mixing it with yoghurt or oil-based dressings can help mask its intensity. The key is integration – balancing strong flavours with fats, acid or sweetness often improves palatability.”
I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try making dishes such as this Dongbei Coriander Salad that is also curiously known as “Tiger” Vegetables.
The writer has since gone on to embrace coriander-forward dishes such as this. (Photo: Khoo Bee Khim)
The salad, dressed in vinegar, soy sauce and sesame oil, is said to be so rousing that eating it would enliven you like the Chinese saying, active like a dragon or tiger. Another story, according to the blogger, suggests that the dish was randomly put together by a woman who didn’t know how to cook.
Her mother-in-law, upon tasting the dish, commented that it was “hu”, which in Dongbei, is a way of describing something as silly or haphazard. “Hu” also refers to tiger in Mandarin, which could have contributed to the “tiger” in the salad’s name.
Now, would I be brave enough to swipe right on coriander's equally controversial cousin, parsley? Maybe another time. One thing’s for sure – I’m not wasting any more time picking out coriander from my food.
Continue reading...
What's the point of adding the herb as a garnish in the first place? By the time the dish reaches my table, it’s usually a mess of limp, slimy leaves. Vietnamese food, with its generous use of coriander, was especially a nightmare to me.
I can’t remember the pivotal moment when I tasted coriander again – and wasn’t repelled. Instead, it left a fresh, citrusy, herbaceous flavour akin to eating an aromatic flower in my mouth.
Emboldened, I ordered the kusetsuyo salad when I saw it on Ippudo's menu. The server who brought me the dish – and most certainly a coriander hater – couldn’t hide the look of disgust on her face as she set the plate of cucumber, avocado and coriander dusted with grated parmesan on the table. It was delicious.
WHY DO YOU LOVE OR HATE CORIANDER?
As many as one in five people find that coriander has a soapy taste, according to Science Focus. If you do, you are likely to be super-sensitive to aldehydes, chemicals present in coriander, and as you guessed it, in perfumed soaps and detergents as well.
(Photo: iStock/spawns)
Here’s where it gets interesting. What makes you hyper-sensitive to aldehydes could be a mutated gene. Yup, mutants don’t only exist in comic books and movies, though a coriander aversion is a pretty useless super power. More specifically, the mutation involves the olfactory receptor gene known as Olfactory Receptor Family 6 Subfamily A Member 2. Or simply OR6A2.
“This is a classic case of genetics influencing flavour perception,” said Mary-ann Chiam, the senior principal dietitian at Allium Healthcare. Those with a variant of OR6A2 detect aldehydes, specifically (E)-2-alkenal compounds, as soapy or pungent, she said. Those who don’t have the gene variation find aldehyde-containing coriander “fresh and citrusy”.
“However, genetics only tell part of the story,” said Chiam. “Culture and upbringing play an enormous role as well. If someone grows up in a household where vegetables are regularly served in tasty, familiar ways, they’re more likely to accept and even enjoy them.”
WHAT NUTRITIONAL BENEFITS DOES CORIANDER HAVE?
The herb contains Vitamins K, A and C, fibre as well as trace amounts of folate, potassium, beta-carotene and lutein, according to Medical News Today. The entire coriander plant, including the leaves, stems, roots and seeds, is nutritious, although the seeds, which are often ground and used as a powder, tend to be less so.
Bits of sad-looking coriander as garnish. (Photo: iStock/pisanstock)
Previous studies on coriander have also found limited anti-cancer effects, migraine-quelling benefits, sun damage prevention and some anti-fungal properties. But as “wow” as the science seems, I’m taking my coriander with a figurative pinch of salt as the findings aren’t conclusive.
Besides, you would have to eat a lot of the herb, about 50g or half a compact, medium-sized bunch of fresh coriander – leaves and stems – to obtain about 155mcg of vitamin K, said Chiam. For context, men need about 120mcg, and women, 90mcg of vitamin K daily.
WHY DOES YOUR FLAVOUR PREFERENCE CHANGE OVER TIME?
I still can’t figure out why my preference for coriander switched over time. Have my taste buds dulled over the years? “Some food aversions soften with time,” said Chiam. “As we age, the number of taste buds decreases and our sense of smell diminishes, leading to a reduced ability to detect some flavours.”
Chiam continued: “Sensory sensitivity is another important factor. The rough, fibrous textures of certain vegetables, especially those with stalks, can be off-putting for some individuals. This is particularly true among those with ADHD, where sensory-processing challenges may contribute to a dislike of vegetables.”
Of course, the reverse could be true for other people as well. “Some may remain sensitive or even become more averse due to health conditions leading to swallowing issues, medications that alter taste perception as a side effect, or changes in oral health (for example, dry mouth and having to wear dentures),” said Chiam.
(Photo: iStock/Jcomp)
Negative associations, such as food poisoning or finding a half-eaten worm in your salad, could also cause aversions to develop, said Chiam.
WANT TO TRY CORIANDER BUT DON’T KNOW HOW?
Despite my newfound love for coriander, I’m not about to munch on a bunch as a snack any time soon. But I have opened my heart and mouth to coriander-forward dishes such as a side of coriander salad to go with my poached eggs for brunch.
If raw coriander in banh mi is too big a leap for you, try what Chiam suggests: Blending coriander into salsas or chutneys, or incorporating it into curry bases or marinades. “Doing so can mellow its flavour,” she said.
“For those with sensory aversions, finely chopping coriander and mixing it with yoghurt or oil-based dressings can help mask its intensity. The key is integration – balancing strong flavours with fats, acid or sweetness often improves palatability.”
I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try making dishes such as this Dongbei Coriander Salad that is also curiously known as “Tiger” Vegetables.
The writer has since gone on to embrace coriander-forward dishes such as this. (Photo: Khoo Bee Khim)
The salad, dressed in vinegar, soy sauce and sesame oil, is said to be so rousing that eating it would enliven you like the Chinese saying, active like a dragon or tiger. Another story, according to the blogger, suggests that the dish was randomly put together by a woman who didn’t know how to cook.
Her mother-in-law, upon tasting the dish, commented that it was “hu”, which in Dongbei, is a way of describing something as silly or haphazard. “Hu” also refers to tiger in Mandarin, which could have contributed to the “tiger” in the salad’s name.
Now, would I be brave enough to swipe right on coriander's equally controversial cousin, parsley? Maybe another time. One thing’s for sure – I’m not wasting any more time picking out coriander from my food.
Continue reading...