evolution of taste

i've never been a picky eater. i consistently cleaned my plate, and could eat my body's weight in broccoli as a child (still can). my parents were diligent in making me try every bizarre foodstuff they'd order in restaurants. "try it once," they'd impore me. "if you don't like it, you never have to eat it again." that got me ordering (of my own volition) escargots and vindaloos by the time i was 8.
i never, however, liked oysters. or egg yolk. or eggplant. i'd turn up my nose and politely demure. 
my first experiences in the world of drinking were of the sickeningly sweet variety. nothing screams "underage" than a midori sour or a white russian, folks (that is, unless you order a caucasian at a bowling alley and curse profusely). anything without some serious flavor was passed on. especially beer. i considered it to be cheap swill unworthy of my palate. and martinis? ew. only if there's a "sour apple" in there SOMEWHERE. bloody marys? you have GOT to be kidding me.
my, how things have changed...
i'll slurp down a dozen oysters in 2.38 minutes flat. i take my martinis extra dirty, with extra olives, and look forward to extra spicy sunday marys.
i worked in a beer and wine bar where i could outdrink men twice my size when it came to belgian beers (particularly la chouffe and the delectable westmalle triple).
and egg yolk? don't get me started. during my 3 months of freelancing (and mornings spent at home), i made sunny side up eggs with whole wheat toast, sprinkled with white truffle oil and sea salt every day. and basically licked the plate clean every time.
as i grow older, my palate has evolved to be less frivolous, which leads me to hope that my goals, which seem as insubstantial as my previous, lamentable love for all tastes adolescent, may eventually catch up.