Here’s a Thought: Your Diet Is Probably Missing Bitters

From your digestion to your disposition, bitter is the flavor of balance.

✍️ By Jenna Mccarthy

Once upon a time, our taste buds had range. They could detect subtle notes of bitterness in greens, herbs, and roots and respond like a well-trained orchestra—cue the stomach acid, roll out the bile, warm up the pancreas. Nowadays, those same buds are like retired musicians who only come out for a gig if there’s frosting involved. We’ve systematically bred, sugared, and deep-fried the culinary bite right out of our lives. Lettuce used to taste like something. Now it’s just wet crunch.

The irony is that bitterness—the flavor food scientists spent the last century trying to eliminate—is the one our bodies are practically begging for. Think of the bitter reflex as nature’s pre-game ritual for digestion: a quick alert to the metabolism that dinner’s coming and it should probably get off the couch.

Take a nip of something grown-up—say, gentian, dandelion, wormwood, mustard greens, or a splash of Campari—and your entire digestive tract springs to life like it’s just heard its favorite song. The stomach releases acid, the pancreas gears up for enzyme duty, and bile flows like champagne at a 1920s party. Just like that, your body is primed to absorb nutrients like a ShamWow! towel.

But in the age of vanilla lattes and cake-flavored protein powder, bitterness is treated like a design flaw. The truth is, the modern palate has evolved to appreciate all the complexity of a toddler’s snack tray. (For the record, it’s not entirely our fault—many naturally bitter plants are genuinely toxic, so the aversion is part learned preference, part survival instinct.)

When something tastes too tangy, we often call it “sour” (or occasionally, “gross”) and reach for something more “balanced”—which usually means sweetened beyond recognition. The problem? Our internal organs don’t get the memo. Deprived of that botanical wake-up call, digestion turns sluggish, metabolism drags, and nutrient absorption takes a nap. Your body’s basically waiting for a cue that never comes.

Historically, people understood this on an instinctive level. Every culture had its own version of bitters—aperitifs, digestifs, tonics, teas. Europeans sipped vermouth and amaro before dinner, Chinese herbalists prescribed sour tonics to “cool” the body, and grandmothers around the globe forced fussy children to drink something that’ll “put hair on your chest.” Bitters weren’t a hipster cocktail ingredient; they were a digestive rite of passage. Even your dad’s or great-granddad’s gin and tonic served a medical purpose (the quinine in tonic water is intensely bitter and once kept malaria at bay). Now our pre-dinner ritual consists of doomscrolling and wondering why we’re bloated.

Modern science, in its infinite capacity to rediscover what your grandmother already knew, has started to confirm that these plant compounds really do trigger a cascade of beneficial reactions. When you taste bitterness, receptors not only on your tongue but throughout your gut light up. This sends signals that modulate hormones like ghrelin and GLP-1, which help regulate appetite and blood sugar.

Translation: bitterness tells your body, “Food is coming, prepare accordingly,” and your body responds by fine-tuning digestion instead of panicking and hoarding calories like a doomsday prepper. In other words, that sip of bitters is likely to do more for your waistline than a shot of that “metabolism-boosting wellness drink” that tastes like liquified Skittles.

Reintroducing bitterness doesn’t mean you have to chug a bottle of tonic water and pretend to like it. You can start gently: arugula, endive, radicchio, grapefruit peel, black coffee (unsweetened, sorry), or a few drops of Swedish bitters in water before meals will all do the trick. The goal isn’t punishment—it’s balance. Think of it as rehab for your taste buds. They’ve been living on easy mode for too long, coasting on sugar, salt, and fake flavoring. A little contrast brings them back to their evolutionary senses.

If you’re the sort to enjoy the occasional cocktail, try ordering something—like a Negroni or an Aperol Spritz—that makes the bartender nod respectfully instead of rolling an eye. Or elevate your home setup with a bottle of bitters that looks like it came from an apothecary. If your guests wince at the taste, smile and say, “Oh, that’s just your vagus nerve waking up.” (Be prepared for them to ask you if you’ve joined a cult.)

The vagus nerve, by the way, really does play a starring role in this story. It’s the communication hotline between your gut and your brain, and bitterness is one of the things that activates it. When you stimulate it (through unsweetened botanicals, massage, deep breathing, cold plunging, even humming—yes, humming), you help tone the parasympathetic “rest and digest” system. In plain English: bitterness literally helps your body chill out and do its job. It’s the opposite of modern life, which is all sweet, fast, and stress. No wonder our stomachs are rebelling.

The good news is that your body remembers. Give it a little taste of tartness and it’ll quickly recall what to do. Within days of adding a bitter element before meals, people often notice less bloating, more regular digestion, and a strange feeling called “satiation” that doesn’t require dessert to kick in. It’s not magic—it’s physiology. You’re rebooting the system that our modern diets have switched off.

So maybe it’s time to invite bitterness back to the table. Not the emotional kind—you’ve already got Facebook for that—but the biochemical kind that keeps your insides honest. Toss yourself an arugula salad. Brew a cup of chamomile tea. Enjoy a spoonful or two of unsweetened cocoa nibs. Nibble on grapefruit instead of grapes (remind yourself that suffering builds character if you must). Your liver will thank you. Your gallbladder will finally have something to do. Your metabolism will purr. And your taste buds—after the initial shock—might just stand up and cheer.

Disclaimer: It’s important to note that bitters can interact with some medications, and overdoing it (as with just about anything, for the record) can cause nausea and other unpleasant digestive issues, especially in people who are prone to them. So start slowly, and if you’re taking prescription medication, ask your prescribing doctor about any contraindications. (Did I just appropriate a Pharma ad right there?)

Do you intentionally incorporate bitters into your diet—or do you plan to after reading this? Share in the comments!

About the Author

Jenna McCarthy is a bestselling author, columnist, and relentless truth-sifter with a sharp wit and sharper pen. At the Independent Medical Alliance, she writes the series Here’s a Thought, tackling health, freedom, and the absurdities of modern medicine with equal parts humor and clarity. Subscribe on Substack and join the always lively comments on Jenna’s post! Explore more of Jenna’s work here or read her full bio here. Your support makes Jenna’s voice—and independent journalism like this—possible. Donate today.