Why Kids Say No to New Foods (And How One Question Changes Everything)

"I don't like kimchi," the 10-year-old boy said with complete conviction.

Then he paused. "Wait. What even IS kimchi?"

After 30 years teaching cooking to 50,000+ students, I've watched this pattern repeat itself countless times. 

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Kids' first answer to unfamiliar food is often no - not because they don't like it, but because they don't know it. One question changes everything.

"I don't like kimchi."

The 10 year old boy in my after school class said it with such conviction, such certainty. His tone carried that edge of how dare you suggest I eat this.

Then, almost immediately: "Wait. What even *is* kimchi?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. A few of his friends did too. Because there it was - that beautiful pivot from resistance to curiosity. From no, to wait, tell me more.

I explained what kimchi is. Fermented cabbage, usually with chili pepper, garlic, and ginger.

"I don't like fermented foods," he said, with that same disdain.

Then: "Wait. What *are* fermented foods?"

His friend jumped in before I could answer. "Dude, what are you talking about? You're saying you don't like something and you've never even tried it."

We talked about fermented foods. Sauerkraut. Yogurt. Wine. Cheese. Sourdough. His face shifted as he processed this information. "Oh".

The Moment Before the Moment

Before we started cooking, I opened the jar of kimchi. I told the class it might smell different than what they're used to. Not bad. Just different.

Out of the 20 kids that week, about 12 of them wrinkled their noses.

Some asked to taste it straight from the jar. Some didn't want to go near it. But when we made kimchi fritters - mixed into batter, pan-fried until crispy, something familiar in form - they gobbled them up. Every single one of them.

The boy who didn't like kimchi? He loved them.

The Pattern We All Know

Here's what I see constantly, in kids and adults alike: our first answer to the unfamiliar is often no.

No, I don't like that.

No, I don't want to try it.

No, thanks.

It's automatic. Protective. Safe.

But that "no" isn't usually about the thing itself. It's about not knowing what the thing is. It's about unfamiliarity disguised as preference.

I learned this lesson myself in middle school. I needed to call a classmate for homework - a girl I didn't really get along with. We started talking, and after a while she said, "You know, you're not that bad. I actually thought you were really stuck up." I told her the truth: I was painfully shy.

She thought I was stuck up. I thought she didn't like me. We were both wrong. We just didn't know each other. Shout out to Paula if she's reading this now. That was when we were 12. Forty-three years later, we're still friends. Imagine if we'd both continued to say no to that opportunity.

What We're Really Resisting

Resistance to the unknown shows up everywhere.

New foods. New people. New ideas. New ways of doing things.

We say we don't like something before we've tried it. We decide someone is difficult before we've had a real conversation with them. We dismiss an idea because it doesn't fit what we already know.

But can resistance and curiosity live in the same space? When that boy asked "Wait, what even is kimchi?" - that's when everything shifted. When we move from no - to wait, tell me more, we create room for something new.

The Invitation

This week, notice where you say no automatically.

Not the big, important no's - those matter and should stay. But the small ones. The ones that come from unfamiliarity rather than actual preference.

Notice when you dismiss something - a food, an idea, or a person - before you really know what it is.

And then, if you can, ask yourself: Wait. What even is this thing I'm resisting?

That question might be the bridge between who you are and who you're becoming. Between what you know and what you might discover. Between the life you have and the one that's waiting for you to be just a little bit more.

Sometimes all it takes is asking what something is instead of deciding what it isn't.

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