For Shakespeare, music is the food of love. For me, food is the food of love. It not just about eating as sustenance, of course; I can do that over my own sink. It’s about enjoying eating as sustenance. Enjoying eating together. Here, taste this. No, this piece is yours. I toasted the pine nuts, just the way you like. (Someone once invited me out for Thai food. What would you like? he asked. “Spicy eggplant?” I suggested. “No,” he said, “I don’t like sauce.” Waiter!) It’s about appetite, in all senses. If you’re like me, you may (perhaps unfairly) border on lactose-intolerant-intolerance. If you’re like me, if you’re without someone to love food with, you get very, very peckish.

So what if you’re an omnivore dating a plainwhitepastavore? A cheesehead crushing on a vegan? Can this marriage of flavors be saved? The New York Times explores that question in today’s “Dining In” section. The answer? Sometimes.

(For one thing, it is noted, randy chowhounds view ethics- or religion-based eating choices as much higher on the food-of-love chain than sheer pickiness. Quoth one food-blog poster: “Picky eaters are remarkably unsexy.”) But when people really want to make it work, they do, taking on the challenge of cooking gluten-free or having “meat parties” when the cat’s away. Ultimately — and unsurprisingly, but reassuringly — if the pilot light is burning bright, people find a way.What about you? Ever fall for someone (or not) who’d peel you a grape, but not a shrimp? Who glared at you when you at meat — or who grossed you out when they did? Were you the picky one? What do you think: how important is it to share common interests, and forks? Give BG the dish!