ESSAY
Unforgettable Tastes I Encountered in America — Flavors of Confusion and Discovery
In 1990s America, there were certain flavors that stayed with me—not because they were delicious, but because they were unforgettable in a completely different way. They confused my palate, unsettled my mind, and yet refused to fade from memory. They were tastes that simply did not exist anywhere along the spectrum I had grown up with in Japan—flavors I couldn’t quite explain. In this article, I revisit three such experiences—what could only be described as “taste-based culture shock”: root beer, licorice, and hot spiced apple cider. Each one began with hesitation, even resistance, and yet somehow continues to linger in my memory to this day. Troublesome, perhaps—but undeniably fascinating in their own peculiar way.
Why These Flavors Linger — American Taste as “Discomfort”
American sweets and drinks, quite simply, hold nothing back. The sweetness is bold, the aromas are assertive, and the direction of those flavors often falls completely outside what a Japanese palate might expect. Something can be sweet without being refreshing; aromatic without being appetizing. At times, I even found myself wondering, “Is this really meant to be food?” And yet, in America, these same flavors are enjoyed casually by everyone, from children to adults. This isn’t just a difference in taste—it’s a difference in familiarity, in cultural conditioning. The discomfort felt by an outsider is, in many ways, a direct outline of what everyday life tastes like in that place.
→ Even the texture made a bold statement without holding back
A Journey of Taste That Begins with Confusion
The Shock of a Medicinal Flavor — Root Beer
The very first sip made my brain freeze. “It’s supposed to be sweet… so why does it smell like this?”—that was my introduction to root beer. It tasted vaguely medicinal, somewhat herbal, with a faint hint of vanilla drifting somewhere in the background. It wasn’t undrinkable, but it certainly didn’t invite a second sip. And yet, all around me, people were happily gulping it down alongside their hot dogs. That contrast was strangely fascinating. Even more curious was what came next: after a few tries, there came a moment when I thought, “Maybe this actually works.” First rejection, then confusion, and finally, a hint of understanding—root beer walks you through all three stages with surprising persistence.
→ Read about my experience with root beer here
People Chewing Black Ropes — Licorice
At first glance, it looks like rubber—or perhaps a strip of black vinyl. And it’s sold as candy. That alone was enough to signal a cultural gap. But the real challenge begins with the taste. One bite releases a flavor so distinct that it almost demands analysis. It’s sweet, yet herbal, slightly bitter, and oddly familiar—like something you’ve encountered before but can’t quite place. In the end, it’s simply not a flavor commonly found in Japan. And yet, in America, it enjoys a devoted following, with many people genuinely loving it. That fact alone makes you feel like it deserves a second chance. Whether you come to like it or not is another matter—but given its reputed health benefits, it feels like a taste worth experiencing at least once.
→ Read about my experience with licorice here
Overwhelming Sweetness and Aroma — Hot Spiced Apple Cider
If you take a sip expecting something like coffee, the intensity hits you immediately. It’s sweet—very sweet—and intensely aromatic. Spices like cinnamon and clove assert themselves without hesitation. It feels less like drinking and more like being enveloped in spice. In Japan, beverages tend to be lighter, something to sip casually alongside a meal. This, however, is unmistakably a main character. It feels closer to drinking a dessert than a beverage. At first, it can be overwhelming—but imagine holding a warm cup of it on a cold day, and suddenly, it becomes deeply appealing. Perhaps it’s not just about taste, but about the entire situation that comes with it.
→ Read about my experience with hot spiced apple cider here
Beyond “Dislike” — The Distance Between Taste and Culture
It’s perfectly natural to feel that these flavors don’t suit you. But dismissing them simply as “bad” feels like a missed opportunity. Because that very sense of discomfort is exactly what people in America have grown up enjoying as part of their everyday lives—flavors tied to childhood memories, shared family moments, and seasonal traditions. These are not things you can fully understand in a single bite. There is, quite simply, a “distance of taste.” And whether you choose to engage with that distance or avoid it can greatly shape the richness of your experience abroad.
In fact, it wasn’t just the taste or the strange flavor that felt different.
→ Here’s the surprising story of how even the texture was completely different.
Why They Still Linger
Interestingly, over time, my impressions began to shift. I could laugh and say, “That was too much for me,” and yet at the same time wonder, “What would it taste like now?” I hadn’t come to love these flavors—but they had become something I couldn’t quite ignore. That lingering curiosity is precisely why they remain unforgettable even after more than thirty years. Strongly distinctive flavors have a way of settling into your mind, refusing to leave. And one day, without warning, you find yourself wanting to meet them again on your own terms.
Conclusion — Taste Was Culture Itself
Root beer, licorice, and hot spiced apple cider—what these three share is a bold individuality, a reliance on familiarity, and an undeniable ability to stay in memory. They were not merely sweets or drinks, but fragments of culture themselves. If you ever have the chance to try American foods, consider taking a small leap of courage. Judging them solely by whether they taste “good” or not misses something essential. Somewhere in that unfamiliar bite may lie the next flavor you’ll never forget.
That strange feeling of “Why is it like this?” about taste and flavor in America wasn’t the only surprise.
There were many other moments of cultural confusion around food as well.
→ It wasn’t called “fried potatoes” — my embarrassing experience at Burger King.
→ Read more about the surprisingly Japanese side of American fast-food culture here.