This question begins with two stories: one about cauliflower and the other about an omelette.
First story: Being the harvest season, the cauliflowers are fresh and abundant. I microwave a head and serve it without adornment for dinner. The flavour is the essence of “cauliflowerness”: light, slightly sweet, delicious. I rhapsodize about it to the spouse.
He says, “It tastes like cauliflower.”
“But,” I remonstrate with him, “the taste is delicate and lovely.”
And he replies, “It still just tastes like cauliflower.”
Second story: We’re in a restaurant and both the spouse and I order omelettes. His is a cheese omelette; mine, plain. But the waiter, by mistake, gives me the the wrong omelette. Not realizing what has happened and not really looking to check, I take a large forkful, bite down, and…
POW! An intense and incredibly pleasur-able, salty, cheese-y taste explodes in my mouth. The thrill of it suffuses through my body. I swear I can feel it in my toes.
And not only am I hit hard, I want more of it of that creamy, salty, and rich flavour. Boy, do I want more. It takes all I have to push the dish over to the spouse and say, “This is yours.”