Why Do Some People Hate The Smell Of Cilantro While Others Love It

Cilantro—also known as coriander leaf—is one of the most polarizing herbs in global cuisine. In Mexican salsas, Thai curries, Indian chutneys, and Middle Eastern tabbouleh, it adds a bright, citrusy freshness that many consider essential. Yet for others, the same herb smells like soap, dirt, or even rotten bugs. This stark divide isn’t just about personal preference; it’s rooted in genetics, evolutionary biology, and cultural exposure. Understanding why cilantro inspires such extreme reactions reveals fascinating insights into how our senses shape taste, identity, and food culture.

The Genetic Basis of Cilantro Aversion

The reason some people perceive cilantro as foul lies primarily in their DNA. Research has identified a specific gene cluster—OR6A2—that plays a key role in detecting aldehyde chemicals found in cilantro. Aldehydes are organic compounds that contribute to scent, and in this case, they’re responsible for the distinctive aroma of fresh cilantro leaves.

Interestingly, these same aldehydes are also present in some types of soap and, notably, in the defensive secretions of certain stink bugs. For individuals with a heightened sensitivity due to genetic variation, the scent of cilantro closely resembles that of a crushed bug or bar of soap. This explains why someone might recoil from a dish simply because of a garnish.

A 2012 study published in Flavour analyzed over 30,000 participants and found that up to 14% of the population carries a variant of the OR6A2 gene that makes them particularly sensitive to these aldehydes. The trait is hereditary, meaning if your parents dislike cilantro, you’re more likely to share that aversion.

Tip: If you're genetically predisposed to hate cilantro, try cooking it—heat can break down aldehydes, mellowing the flavor and reducing the soapy perception.

Cultural Exposure and Flavor Acceptance

While genetics set the stage, environment and culture heavily influence whether someone learns to tolerate—or even enjoy—cilantro. Populations with long-standing culinary traditions that incorporate cilantro tend to report lower rates of aversion, regardless of genetic markers.

For example, in countries like India, Thailand, and Mexico, where cilantro is used daily, people are far less likely to describe it negatively—even among those who carry the \"soapy gene.\" Repeated exposure during childhood appears to rewire sensory associations, turning an initially unpleasant smell into a familiar and comforting note.

In contrast, individuals from regions where cilantro is rare—such as parts of Northern Europe or East Asia—often encounter it later in life. Without early conditioning, the herb’s strong aroma stands out more sharply, increasing the likelihood of rejection.

This phenomenon illustrates a broader principle in sensory science: flavor preferences are not fixed at birth but shaped through repeated experience. The brain learns to associate certain smells and tastes with safety, pleasure, or cultural belonging.

“Taste isn’t just a function of biology—it’s a story written by your genes, your upbringing, and your plate.” — Dr. Linda Bartoshuk, Professor of Psychiatry and Nutrition, University of Florida

Do’s and Don’ts When Cooking with Cilantro

Given the split in public opinion, using cilantro effectively requires awareness and tact—especially when serving others. Here’s a practical guide to navigating its use in cooking.

Do’s	Don’ts
Add cilantro at the end of cooking to preserve freshness without intensifying bitterness.	Don’t overload dishes with raw cilantro if serving to unfamiliar guests.
Pair with acidic ingredients like lime or lemon to balance earthy notes.	Don’t assume everyone shares your love for it—label dishes clearly when possible.
Use stems as well as leaves—they’re packed with flavor and great for infusing broths.	Don’t store it like dry herbs; keep it in water, like a bouquet, in the fridge.
Offer alternatives like parsley or basil in communal meals.	Don’t dismiss cilantro haters as picky eaters—it’s often biological, not behavioral.

How to Overcome Cilantro Aversion (If You Want To)

If you’ve always hated cilantro but want to give it another chance, gradual exposure may help. The human palate is remarkably adaptable, especially when experiences are paired with positive contexts.

Here’s a step-by-step approach based on sensory desensitization techniques used by nutritionists:

1. Start with cooked cilantro: Heat reduces volatile aldehydes. Try adding chopped cilantro to soups, stews, or rice dishes where it blends into the background.
2. Pair with strong complementary flavors: Combine small amounts with ingredients like garlic, chili, lime, or coconut milk—common in cuisines where cilantro thrives.
3. Use it sparingly as a garnish: Begin with a single leaf or sprinkle. Focus on the overall dish rather than isolating the herb.
4. Track your reactions: Keep a brief journal. Note texture, smell, and aftertaste. Often, the initial disgust fades with familiarity.
5. Try different varieties: Some strains of cilantro are bred to be milder. Look for “slow-bolt” or “culantro-like” cultivars in specialty markets.

Patience is key. One study found that after six weeks of controlled exposure, nearly 30% of self-identified cilantro haters reported increased tolerance or even enjoyment.

Real-Life Example: A Chef’s Perspective

Carlos Mendez, a chef at a popular fusion taqueria in Austin, Texas, learned the hard way about cilantro’s divisiveness. Early in his career, he created a signature green salsa loaded with fresh cilantro, believing its brightness elevated the dish. But customer feedback revealed a pattern: while many praised it, others returned plates untouched, calling the salsa “bug-scented” or “like floor cleaner.”

Instead of removing it entirely, Carlos adapted. He began offering two versions—one with cilantro, one with flat-leaf parsley—and labeled them clearly. He also started training staff to ask diners about preferences before serving garnishes.

“I used to think disliking cilantro was just being difficult,” Carlos said. “But once I understood the science, I realized it wasn’t personal. Now I respect both sides. My job isn’t to force flavors, but to make people feel welcome at the table.”

His approach improved customer satisfaction and reduced food waste. It also sparked curiosity—some patrons began experimenting with small bites and eventually transitioned to full servings.

Myths and Misconceptions About Cilantro Hatred

Despite growing scientific understanding, several myths persist around cilantro aversion:

• Myth: People who hate cilantro are just being picky.
  Truth: Genetics play a measurable role. It’s no more arbitrary than having sensitive hearing or a strong sense of smell.
• Myth: Everyone can learn to love cilantro.
  Truth: While many can adapt, some remain biologically hypersensitive. Forcing consumption rarely works and can create negative associations with entire cuisines.
• Myth: Cilantro tastes soapy because it’s dirty or sprayed.
  Truth: Even thoroughly washed, organic cilantro triggers the same reaction in genetically sensitive individuals—the issue is internal, not external.

Dispelling these myths fosters greater empathy in kitchens, restaurants, and homes—especially in multicultural settings where food is a bridge between identities.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is cilantro safe to eat if I hate the taste?

Yes, absolutely. Disliking cilantro is not an allergy or health risk. It’s a sensory response. Unless you have a confirmed allergy (which is rare), eating small amounts won’t harm you—even if you don’t enjoy the flavor.

Can children grow out of hating cilantro?

Some do. Children’s taste preferences evolve rapidly. Reintroducing cilantro in different forms—blended into sauces, mixed into meatballs, or paired with cheese—can help normalize the flavor over time. Avoid pressure; positive associations work better than coercion.

Are there good substitutes for cilantro in recipes?

Yes. Flat-leaf parsley offers a similar texture and mild freshness without the polarizing aroma. Basil, mint, or even dill can work depending on the dish. In Latin American cooking, some use culantro (a related but stronger herb) sparingly, though it’s not a direct substitute.

Final Thoughts: Embracing Culinary Diversity

The cilantro divide is more than a quirky food debate—it’s a window into human diversity. Our senses evolved to protect us, guide us, and connect us to our environments. What one person finds delightful, another may find dangerous, and biology helps explain why.

Yet culture teaches us flexibility. Through shared meals, curiosity, and openness, we can appreciate differences without demanding conformity. Whether you’re a lifelong cilantro lover, a determined hater, or somewhere in between, the goal isn’t universal agreement—it’s mutual respect.

💬 What’s your cilantro story? Are you team love-it or team soap-flavor? Share your experience in the comments and help others understand this fragrant, controversial herb a little better.