Not Really a Fan of Chinese Food

This usually gets a reaction. A pause. Sometimes a defense. Which is interesting, because it’s not a statement about quality or culture — it’s about taste. And taste doesn’t vote.

I’m not really a fan of Chinese food. Not because it lacks depth or history, but because it rarely feels quiet enough for me. Too many layers, too many contrasts, too much happening at once. Some people call that balance. I experience it as distraction.

Chinese food is often the default answer. The group order. The safe compromise that assumes flexibility is the same as preference. Saying no to it feels oddly rebellious, as if declining consensus were a personality flaw instead of a choice.

What fascinates me is how quickly personal taste becomes ideological. Disliking a cuisine can be mistaken for rejecting a culture, as though appetite were a moral position. But admiration and desire aren’t interchangeable. You can respect craftsmanship without wanting to consume it regularly.

I don’t need food to surprise me. I want it to be legible. I like knowing what I’m tasting without decoding it. That doesn’t make one approach better — just different.

Being not really a fan doesn’t mean avoidance or disdain. It means honesty. It means choosing deliberately instead of reflexively. Sometimes clarity comes from saying no to what everyone else reaches for.

I’m not really a fan of Chinese food. And that’s not a hot take — it’s just a preference that refuses to dress itself up as anything more.

NRAF