February 24 Is International I Hate Coriander Day. The Science Behind Why the Smell Is Unbearable

Today is February 24. On English-speaking social media it’s also known as “International I Hate Coriander Day.” Literally translated it would be “International I Hate Pakuchi Day.”

This is not an official commemorative day designated by the Kokuren (United Nations) or other accredited organizations. The origin is said to be the English-language Facebook community “I Hate Coriander.” The exact origin is unknown, but it’s a kind of collective counterculture on social media against a leaf that users have unilaterally turned into a holiday.

Days Of The Year

International I Hate Coriander DayCelebrate International I Hate Coriander Day by uniting cilantro haters worldwide, sharing the science behind the dislike, and enjoying herb-free food fun.

Using today as an excuse, I’ll write a little about why I, as someone who can’t accept the “smell” rather than the “taste” of pakuchi, react the way I do.

The problem with pakuchi is the smell more than the taste

I’m not fond of pakuchi (called coriander or cilantro in English, xiāngcài in Chinese) — actually I dislike it. It’s not an allergy, and it’s not that I absolutely cannot eat it, but my stance is to avoid it as much as possible. When I say I don’t like pakuchi, I’m often told things like this:

“It’s just a matter of personal preference.”

“It’s actually tasty, you know.”

I understand that feeling. When I see someone dislike something, I tend to think, “They just haven’t met the real delicious version yet.” But when it’s my turn, it’s different — I’m out at the smell stage, so there’s nothing to be done. I’m fully aware how selfish that sounds.

For me, the problem is the smell more than the taste. Before I even put pakuchi in my mouth, when I inhale the scent coming from the plate or bowl, an unpleasant feeling already wells up. People often say “pakuchi tastes like soap,” but I’ve never eaten soap, so I’m not sure that metaphor is really accurate. It feels better described as a smell that’s unacceptable for food.

By the way, I’m also strongly averse to stinky tofu from China and Taiwan. The smell of that fermentation triggers a rejection response in my body before I can even get to the act of eating. Stinky tofu’s offensive range is broader than pakuchi’s — in my experience, the battle starts a block away. On the other hand, that also means it can be avoided; as a smell it’s, in a sense, an excellent alert.

The substance raging inside the leaf: aldehydes

The character of pakuchi’s smell is mainly volatile compounds called aldehydes. These are in the same family of components used in detergents and perfumes, and they’re involved in the sharp scent you get when you peel citrus. The aroma becomes stronger the moment the leaves are chopped because cells are broken and the compounds are released all at once. These give directions of scent that are citrusy, green, or fatty, but some people find them strongly unpleasant.

Frontiers

Frontiers | Chemical Composition of Fresh Leaves Headspace Aroma and Essential Oils of Four Coriander CultivarsAroma is one of the key food characteristics determining consumers’ perception and acceptability of products. Coriandrum sativum L. is an aromatic herb commo…

The important point is that this is about “smell,” not “taste.” Human taste perception is closely linked to the sense of smell. If the nose rejects something, the brain interprets it as “tastes bad.” It’s not a problem of the tongue but of the nose. In fact, it’s not that I dislike the taste of pakuchi itself — I simply can’t overcome the smell.

The proportion of pakuchi haters varies by culture

Studies comparing ethnocultural groups show that the proportion of people who dislike pakuchi ranges from 3% to 21%. Higher rates are reported among East Asian and Western groups, and lower rates among South Asian and Middle Eastern groups.

SpringerLink

Prevalence of cilantro (Coriandrum sativum) disliking among different ethnocultural groups – FlavourBackground Cilantro, the leaf of the Coriandrum sativum plant, is an herb that is widely consumed globally and has purported health benefits ranging from antibacterial to anticancer activities. Some individuals report an extreme dislike for cilantro, and this may explain the different cilantro consumption habits between populations. However, the prevalence of cilantro dislike has not previously been reported in any population. The objective of this study was to determine the prevalence of cilantro dislike among different ethnocultural groups from a population of young adults living in Canada. Subjects (n = 1,639) between the ages of 20 and 29 years were participants of the Toronto Nutrigenomics and Health Study. Individuals rated their preference for cilantro on a 9-point scale from ‘dislike extremely’ to ‘like extremely’. Subjects also had the option to select ‘have not tried’ or ‘would not try’. Subjects who selected 1 to 4 were classified as disliking cilantro. Results The prevalence of dislike ranged from 3 to 21%. The proportion of subjects classified as disliking cilantro was 21% for East Asians, 17% for Caucasians, 14% for those of African descent, 7% for South Asians, 4% for Hispanics, and 3% for Middle Eastern subjects. Conclusions These findings show that the prevalence of cilantro dislike differs widely between various ethnocultural groups.

However, this varies depending on the survey sample and the way questions are asked. Results differ if you ask “Do you dislike it?” versus “Does it taste like soap?” Also, environmental factors such as how often someone was exposed to it as a child cannot be ignored.

In short, how people perceive the smell is not a simple matter. But it’s not purely a matter of mood, either.

So at least put it on the menu

I don’t want to erase pakuchi from the world. People who like it should enjoy it fully. Many Thai and Vietnamese dishes are completed by pakuchi. In practice, I give my portion to people around me who like it.

Still, I want it clearly indicated on the menu. Once at a hotel breakfast buffet there was pakuchi in the salad. Even if a pakuchi boom has raised its profile, there’s no reason it should be silently and without warning mixed into a salad. If it had been listed as an ingredient I would have avoided it, and I think such silent inclusion should be strictly punishable by law.

It’s certain that a certain percentage of people are stopped in their tracks by the smell of pakuchi. In some groups it’s one in five. At that table, someone may quietly stop eating. It’s a bit ridiculous that a single leaf can divide people. But that division is real.

Today, you can openly dislike pakuchi. Today, tomorrow, and forever after, I will always check carefully that the word pakuchi does not appear anywhere on the menu before I order. So please, at least stop the silent pakuchi.

★

In recent years I’ve noticed patterns where former allies in the pakuchi-hating camp betray the cause. In the past that might have been called a “conversion.” I won’t stop them, though. If someone can learn to eat pakuchi, the number of dishes they can enjoy dramatically increases. Frankly, I’m glad some people can “graduate.”

Will that day ever come for me, too?