Away from the feminine urinal trend of things:
Sometimes, I hate being a writer. No, it's nothing to do with NaNoWriMo (I've given up already, I was doing abysmally). It's the fact that words just can't express some things. In this young-adult sci-fi I'm writing they're colonizing a new world, so there's all sorts of different plants and fruit and stuff. I can taste Midas-flower wine. I can taste kilofruits and cobaltfruits. I can taste them in a cool pie with thick cream on top, but I can't describe these things. I can only outline them: Midas-flower wine is a sweet and delicate flavour, similar to white grape juice but with less grape-ness and lots more sweetness. Cobaltfruit is a cobalt-blue, fleshy and fibrous fruit with a tangy and fresh taste with a hint of bitterness, kilofruit is a very strong and almost sickly sweet blood-red fruit. That's why they go so well in a pie; the interplay of sweet and bitter, with the cobaltfruit softening up the tastebuds to make the kilofruit even sweeter.
Okay, honestly I think that description was pretty detailed, but I can't dump all that in the text because it'd screw the flow up too much. It's not like this with vision, hearing and tactile; we have so many different words to describe how something looks or sounds or feels like, but barely any (by comparison) to detail what something tastes or smells like. It's depressing.
Though I have to say I don't exactly know what beef in yard-root stew tastes like right now.