Cliff and I occasionally tried to cook something we knew Dad would reject if he had the chance. Cliff made carrot soup for Easter dinner one year. First course, only thing on the table, bowl brought to each person, so Dad couldn't just say no thanks. Turns out he liked carrot soup! My favorite story is having them for brunch, and bringing individual plates out from the kitchen with potatoes, eggs, ham and a popover. It's breakfast, there are several kinds of jam on the table, the butter dish is there, and he picks up the popover turning it over and over examining it as if it were an alien object. We watched this without saying a word. Finally Dad says "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Another time I made stew and our bread was made from scratch cheddar scones. I knew he wouldn't take one from a basket, so each bowl of stew was set on a plate, and a scone was set on the plate and tucked partially under the bowl. That time he didn't even try what was obviously a bread item of some sort. If his mother didn't make it, he doesn't want it. ETA, just read this to Cliff and he comes up with "Wass der Bauer nicht kennt, dass frist er nicht". What the peasant doesn't know, that he won't eat. (Note to self don't ever again try to type German on an iPad).