Growing up, I hated when my parents would cook bitter melon. It was this strange bumpy looking pale cucumber that tastes like dirt and roots. Its pungent bitterness made me want to gag. I used to sneak bites of it away into napkins so my parents wouldn’t get angry for not eating it. I never understood how they could withstand the taste and wondered if they just ate it because they believed it was good for their health. I never understood bitter melon, and frankly, I never wanted to.

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Bitter melon is one of those ingredients that hasn’t been explored much in the modern (western) culinary world. Originating from India, bitter melon has spread across Asia in many forms, from prepared dishes to teas to medicines. It is widely beloved not only for its intensely bitter flavor but also its various health benefits. It’s said to help maintain blood sugar, relieve asthma, reduce cholesterol, promote bone health, promote weight loss, and sharpen vision, among other benefits.

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In fact, in Okinawa, many residents credit the fruit for their longevity - Okinawa boasts the largest population of centenarians on the planet. It is rich in iron, contains twice the beta-carotene of broccoli, twice the calcium of spinach and twice the potassium of a banana. As consumers are becoming more health conscious and the “superfoods” movement growing in popularity, it’s only a matter of time until bitter melon has its time in the limelight.

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Despite these benefits, I’m not surprised that this fruit has yet to gain wide popularity. Up until a few days ago, even I was grossly put off by its unwelcoming bitterness. Perhaps unwelcoming isn’t the right word. More than anything, bitter melon (and bitterness as a flavor profile in general) is widely misunderstood and demonized. The sense of taste has evolved to drive us away from bitter flavors, to save us from the bitter taste of poisons. Interestingly enough, the same has happened for sourness, alerting us to spoiled foods, yet sourness has become a beloved and essential component to cooking and balancing flavors.

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Through the process of cooking and developing a bitter melon dish, I have explored and come to understand and appreciate bitter melon and bitterness as a flavor profile. It’s an incredible ingredient, and I’m excited to incorporate it more into my repertoire. While testing, I prepared it simply stir-fried with eggs and soy sauce, seasoned with salt and sugar to balance the flavors and a touch a rice vinegar to round it out. I then topped it off with a bit of Maldon sea salt for added crunch and bursts of salt to contrast with the bitterness of the melon and the soft scrambled egg.

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The first bite was intensely bitter, almost off-puttingly so. I found myself avoiding a second bite at first, only to realize my mouth was salivating for more. What a strange addiction! The bitterness with the salt, it was making my mouth water and nothing else but that bitterness could satisfy my palate. I’ve never felt that sensation before for bitterness, yet it was strangely familiar.

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Then it hit me; this is the exact same sensation I had when I first had salt and vinegar chips. That intense astringent flavor and smell that makes you pull back, give a knee-jerk disgusted reaction. Yet a few minutes later you’re craving more of that intensity.

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It was then that I understood exactly what bitterness could do to foods. I started crafting different concepts in my head. A bitter melon salad with herbs and citrus. Bitter melon salsa verde to accompany red meat. A cold bitter melon soup as a light sauce for white fish. Pickled bitter melon as a garnish for almost anything. I started testing and formulating different dishes, ways I could capture this amazing flavor, how I could utilize its addictive, mouth-watering properties. My whole world opened up to this strange unexplored journey into bitterness as a frontier flavor. Just like acid and sourness as a flavor profile, bitterness is incredible for rounding out dishes and pushing them to that next level of gastronomy.