Orange juice is commonly thought to be a breakfast staple. There is an interesting history behind this, which ultimately boils down to marketing and vitamins. The problem is that oranges, and orange juice by extension, are both disgusting. Orange juice with pulp feels like there are tiny little hairs tickling your mouth, whereas orange juice without pulp feels too sour to swallow. Oranges themselves are an ordeal. Peeling off their skin leaves a disgusting disaster and their papery flesh is too much for me to swallow.
If you like oranges, good for you — I’m glad you can happily partake in the consumption of a fruit that is beneficial to your health. My issue is with those who seem to expect me to like orange juice because it’s a common food. Upon discovering I don’t, they label me as a childish and overly picky eater.
There are tons of food I like that others may not like, but people make faces when they find out I like these things. Olives, sardines, and pickles are among my favourite snacks. I’m not going to force you to eat them, but what is this double standard where you get to wrinkle your nose at my food, but when I say I hate oranges it’s suddenly unthinkable? And don’t tell me about how my food is stinky, because while I try to not eat strong smelling foods in public, your hot dogs smell gross.
Much of these expectations are grounded in arbitrary American food standards, and I don’t want these ideals forced onto my palate. What may be seen as a staple in one part of the world, may not be the case in another. In my family, beans with plantains and rice is a staple meal (but I will never eat beans, sorry mami). I will keep putting vinegar on my fries and I don’t need to hear what you have to say about it.
