Why Do Some People Hate Cilantro So Much Science Behind The Taste

Cilantro—also known as coriander leaves—divides palates like few other herbs. For some, it’s a vibrant, citrusy garnish that elevates tacos, curries, and salsas. For others, it tastes like soap, metal, or even rotting insects. This stark contrast in perception has puzzled food lovers and scientists alike for years. But the answer isn’t simply about preference; it lies deep within our biology, genetics, and even cultural exposure. Understanding why cilantro inspires such intense reactions reveals fascinating insights into how we perceive flavor and how individual differences shape our culinary experiences.

The Genetic Basis of Cilantro Aversion

The most compelling explanation for cilantro hatred comes from human genetics. Researchers have identified a specific gene variant linked to how people perceive the flavor of cilantro: OR6A2. This gene codes for an olfactory receptor highly sensitive to aldehyde compounds—molecules found not only in cilantro but also in soaps, lotions, and even some insect secretions.

People who carry certain variants of OR6A2 are more likely to detect these aldehydes with heightened intensity. As a result, they don’t just taste cilantro—they smell its soapy undertones strongly enough to overpower any fresh, herbal notes. A 2012 study published in Flavour journal analyzed data from over 30,000 individuals and found that nearly 4%–14% of people of European descent reported a soapy taste when eating cilantro, largely due to this genetic variation.

Tip: If you're genetically predisposed to dislike cilantro, try cooking it briefly—it can mellow the volatile aldehydes responsible for the soapy taste.

This genetic sensitivity is inherited, meaning cilantro aversion often runs in families. It's not a learned behavior but rather a biological response hardwired into sensory perception. However, genetics alone don’t tell the whole story.

Chemistry on the Plate: What Makes Cilantro Taste Like Soap?

Cilantro contains a group of chemical compounds called aliphatic aldehydes. These are short-chain organic molecules responsible for its bright, zesty aroma. The primary culprits include decanal and dodecanal, which contribute citrus-like scents in small amounts—but at higher concentrations, resemble cleaning products.

Interestingly, these same aldehydes were once used in bar soaps and lotions before being phased out in many countries. That shared chemistry explains why the brain makes a direct association between the scent of cilantro and household cleaners for certain individuals.

But here's a twist: not all aldehydes are bad actors. In perfumery and fine cuisine, controlled use of aldehydes creates luxurious, sparkling notes. The difference lies in concentration and context. When present in cilantro, especially raw, their volatility means they hit the nose quickly and powerfully—often before other flavors can balance them.

“Taste is not just a function of the tongue—it’s a full sensory integration involving smell, memory, and expectation. When aldehydes dominate that signal, the brain interprets it as unpleasant, especially if there’s a genetic predisposition.” — Dr. Linda Bartoshuk, Professor of Community Dentistry and Behavioral Science, University of Florida

Cultural Exposure and Flavor Adaptation

While genetics play a crucial role, environment and upbringing significantly influence whether someone learns to tolerate—or even enjoy—cilantro.

In regions where cilantro is a staple ingredient—such as Mexico, India, Thailand, and parts of the Middle East—rates of aversion are notably lower. Regular exposure from childhood appears to condition the brain to reinterpret the flavor profile positively. Over time, repeated consumption helps override initial negative associations, integrating cilantro into familiar, comforting dishes.

A real-world example illustrates this well: Maria, born in Oaxaca, Mexico, grew up with cilantro in everything—from salsas to soups to grilled meats. When she moved to Chicago for college, her roommates recoiled at the smell of her cooking. One even asked if she was boiling dish soap. Yet for Maria, cilantro wasn't just normal—it was essential to home. Her experience highlights how cultural familiarity shapes taste acceptance, sometimes overriding genetic predispositions.

Conversely, people raised in cuisines with minimal cilantro use—like traditional British or Scandinavian diets—are more likely to encounter it later in life, increasing the chance of a negative first impression. Without prior positive associations, the brain defaults to interpreting unfamiliar, strong aromas as potentially harmful—a survival mechanism rooted in evolution.

Do’s and Don’ts When Cooking with Cilantro

Whether you love it or hate it, understanding how to handle cilantro can make a big difference in how it’s received at the table. Below is a practical guide to using cilantro effectively, minimizing off-putting notes while maximizing freshness.

Do	Don’t
Add cilantro at the end of cooking to preserve brightness without intensifying volatile compounds.	Boil cilantro for long periods—it releases more aldehydes and turns bitter.
Chop finely and mix into dishes evenly to distribute flavor gently.	Pile large handfuls on top of dishes without warning—this overwhelms sensitive palates.
Pair with acidic ingredients like lime or vinegar, which can neutralize soapy perceptions.	Serve raw cilantro alongside very mild foods (e.g., plain rice), where its flavor dominates.
Offer alternatives like parsley or basil for guests who may dislike cilantro.	Assume everyone loves cilantro—always ask or label dishes clearly.

Can You Train Yourself to Like Cilantro?

Yes—though success varies by individual. The process involves gradual exposure, strategic pairing, and managing expectations. Neuroplasticity allows the brain to rewire its response to flavors over time, especially when positive experiences accompany them.

Here’s a step-by-step approach to developing a tolerance for cilantro:

1. Start small: Use a single leaf or a light sprinkle in a familiar dish, such as guacamole or a seasoned rice bowl.
2. Pair with strong complementary flavors: Combine cilantro with garlic, chili, citrus, or cumin—ingredients that distract from and balance its sharper notes.
3. Cook it slightly: Lightly wilt cilantro in soups or stir-fries to reduce the volatility of aldehyde compounds.
4. Track your reactions: Note how your perception changes over weeks. Many report that the “soapy” sensation diminishes after repeated exposure.
5. Be patient: Full acceptance can take months. Don’t force it—if discomfort persists, it may be genetic and unlikely to change completely.

Some people never come around—and that’s perfectly okay. Food preferences are deeply personal, shaped by both nature and nurture. The goal isn’t universal approval but informed choice and respectful accommodation.

Expert Insight: Why Smell Dominates Taste

Most people think taste comes from the tongue, but up to 80% of what we perceive as flavor actually comes from smell. This phenomenon, known as retronasal olfaction, occurs when volatile compounds travel from the back of the mouth to the nasal cavity during chewing.

In the case of cilantro, this means the aldehydes are not tasted but smelled—and because the OR6A2 receptor is particularly attuned to them, the experience feels intrusive. For those with the sensitive genotype, it’s less about disliking a flavor and more about enduring an overwhelming odor.

“The cilantro debate is one of the clearest examples we have of how genetics directly influence food preference. It shows that ‘acquired taste’ isn’t just cultural—it’s neurological.” — Dr. Charles Spence, Crossmodal Research Laboratory, University of Oxford

Frequently Asked Questions

Is cilantro allergy the same as cilantro taste aversion?

No. True cilantro allergy is rare and involves immune responses like itching, swelling, or digestive distress. Most people who say they “can’t eat cilantro” are experiencing taste aversion due to genetics, not an allergic reaction.

Are there cilantro substitutes that mimic its flavor?

Yes. Flat-leaf parsley offers a similar texture and mild freshness without the polarizing aroma. For a bolder alternative, try Vietnamese coriander (rau răm) or culantro (longer leaves, stronger flavor, used in Caribbean and Latin American cooking). Basil or mint can also work in some dishes, depending on the cuisine.

Does cooking eliminate the soapy taste?

Partially. Heat breaks down some of the volatile aldehydes, reducing their potency. Sautéing, simmering, or blending cilantro into sauces (like chutneys or pestos) can mellow its edge. However, overcooking may lead to bitterness, so timing matters.

Conclusion: Embracing Culinary Diversity

The divide over cilantro is more than a quirky food feud—it’s a window into human diversity. Our genes, environments, and cultures converge at the dinner table, shaping what we find delicious or disgusting. Recognizing that cilantro hatred is biologically grounded fosters empathy in kitchens everywhere.

Chefs, home cooks, and diners alike benefit from understanding this science. Instead of dismissing picky eaters or forcing flavors on unwilling guests, we can offer choices, adjust recipes thoughtfully, and celebrate the rich variety of palates around us.

💬 What’s your relationship with cilantro? Are you team soap or team salsa? Share your story in the comments and help others understand the real-life impact of this tiny but mighty herb.