The Taste of Growing Up

I used to hate anything bitter.

Ampalaya, labanos, vinegar. They were too sharp for me, too honest. I always wanted sweetness, something easy to like and easier to swallow. When I was younger, I thought sweetness meant goodness. That if something stung, it must not be worth having.

But lately, I’ve noticed how much my taste has changed. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s distance. Or maybe it’s the quiet ways life teaches you to stop craving only what’s easy.

One weekend, I went on a grocery run, the kind of quiet routine that makes weekends feel a little steadier. I wasn’t planning anything special, just the usual restocks. Then I saw fresh labanos, bright white, crisp, and slightly intimidating. I picked some up without thinking twice. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of craving, maybe because I wanted to try something that once made me wince. I planned to make pickled labanos for dinner, maybe pair it with dilis.

Later that afternoon, I called my mom, the usual check-in after errands. We talked about small things, how they were doing, what I had for lunch, how the weather still couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. Somewhere in between, I told her about my plan to make atsara.

“Ah, pickled labanos,” she said, amused. “Add sugar! That makes it atsara, right?” But I already knew I wouldn’t. “No need to add sugar,” I said, laughing a little. “I like it sour. Maybe because I’m an adult now.” She laughed, and I laughed too, the kind of laugh that carries both affection and distance, like two people tasting time from opposite ends of a memory.

Maybe this is what growing up tastes like.

Learning to like what once made you cringe. Finding comfort in things that are not sweet, not easy, not softened. Realizing that not everything needs to be covered up to be enjoyed. Some things are meant to be sharp, to remind you that you’re alive, that you’ve changed.

That night, I ate my pickled labanos with dilis. The combination was simple and honest. Salty, sour, and real. It wasn’t comforting in the usual way, but it grounded me. It reminded me how much has shifted quietly over the years in taste, in tolerance, in what I reach for when I want to feel okay.

Maybe growing up is not about outgrowing sweetness but about learning to taste the full range of things, the bitter, the sour, the sharp, and the strange. The ones that once felt too much. The ones that now feel like truth.

I used to think maturity meant choosing what felt gentle. But maybe it means learning to sit with what stings and still finding something good in it not because it’s easy, but because it’s real.

So yes, I like my labanos unsweetened now. Not because I’ve turned bitter, but because I’ve learned to love what’s real, even when it doesn’t taste easy.

Life isn’t sugarcoated anymore, but it’s real. - MESSY E.

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