If something is an “acquired taste”, I don’t want to taste it more than the one time it took for me say it was so revolting that someone else was compelled to insist that the taste could be acquired.
My repertoire does not require acquired tastes. There’s enough food ‘n’ drink in this world that does a marvelous job of exciting and delighting my palate on the first try that I don’t need to involve myself with vile victuals that one day — if I try really hard and often enough and maybe even reprogram my synapses or rearrange my tastebuds — I will eventually come to realize that hey, aren’t so gut-wrenchingly, eye-crossingly, spleen-splatteringly revolting after all. (That goes especially for you, you frothy blend of urea and stomach acid they call “beer”.)