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acquired taste

the truth is, i’m not for everyone. a statement less elitist than matter of fact. whether this is the product of a sharp mind or sharp elbows is another story. yet the fact remains: i’m no pumpkin spice latte. can’t recall when i was last described as bubbly. will never please a crowd like bacon mac and cheese.

instead, i’m more like matcha: earthy bitterness grounded by umami. the fermented funk of pu’erh. dark and alive. i am the saffron bastani you didn’t know you needed: exquisitely complex, you’ll learn to love the way i stain. like whole wheat sourdough, i am inconvenient, yet deeply nourishing.

i used to wish i was easier to digest. less prickly, less myself. over the years, i’ve dug myself up from a deep well of inadequacy. i may never be a classic, but there is power in being a cult favourite. so for those willing to venture into the unknown: i am a cave full of aged cheese, quietly blooming. come plumb my depths.


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