Lactobacillus bulgaricus and me
A few weeks ago, I was in Bulgaria, part of a group that visited the home of a lovely local woman. She taught us about traditional Bulgarian foods, we prepared banitsa, and we tasted the famous yogurt that the region is known for.
The banitsa was delicious. The yogurt was … not my favorite.
Lots of people love this stuff — chefs around the world order the specific Bulgarian probiotic strains that create its unique flavor. And I just didn’t like it.
A few years ago, even trying the yogurt would have been a big win for me.
Up until my early 40s I was a very picky eater. I had no desire to try funky yogurt, runny eggs, sushi, fresh tomatoes, oysters — no thank you very much.
That changed about a decade ago as I looked ahead to an upcoming tour to Japan (my 4th or 5th trip there.) I realized I was no longer willing to travel halfway around the world to spend two weeks in a country renowned for its cuisine, and survive just on granola bars and chicken teriyaki.
Slowly but surely, over several months, I pushed myself outside my culinary comfort zone. I learned how to eat and appreciate sushi. I gradually built up to oysters, runny eggs, and other “no go” items from my long list of “ick” foods. I asked myself to get a little uncomfortable, over and over. And I grew.
I worked in the space of stretch, not strain — something I once heard in yoga class. We grow best from the discomfort of a stretch, rather than the pain of a strain.
I’m so proud of the work I did to expand my palate. One of my favorite breakfasts these days is avocado toast topped with a poached egg and pickled chilis from a local Boston eatery — everything other than the toast would have been impossible for me a decade ago.
And — there are still some foods that aren’t my favorite. But because I spent all that time in my stretch zone, I’m both willing to try and more secure in my taste.
I’m willing to stretch but won’t force myself to strain. Today, I don’t have to learn to love Bulgarian yogurt because I know I’ve done the work to stretch.
So this recent win wasn’t trying the yogurt.
This recent win was being truthful to my host when she asked whether I liked it. An earlier version of me — the very polite, “correct” me — would have smiled, nodded, and pretended I liked it. This time I was honest.
This is my new edge — being more willing to “not please.”
Just like I became unwilling to travel to Japan with my limited palate, I am now less willing to exhaust myself doing and saying the “right” thing all the time. This is stretch territory for me. I’m working to focus less on what I think I “should” like or do (in all areas of my life) and more on being honest.
Stretch, not strain, helps me grow in a way that is both meaningful and sustainable. This is true for you, too.
We can stretch ourselves to have braver, more honest conversations, to become better listeners, to delegate better (and tolerate the inherent discomfort), to advocate for ourselves, and to be more curious.
Stretching asks us to try things, over and over. Once we’ve done that, it also gives us the confidence to recognize our limits, preferences, and inherent strengths. I probably will never grow to love Bulgarian yogurt — or raw onions. And that’s okay.
I’ve done my stretching there. I’m stretching in new areas now.
Your Invitation to Reflect
What is one area of your life where stretching outside your comfort zone would really serve you? Are you willing to live in the discomfort of stretch for a while? And can you tell the difference between a healthy stretch and a strain?