I didn't peruse this thread before since I'm no longer dating, but I see now input is coming in from married and long-time-partnered folks as well, so I thought I'd chime in.
I'm married to a very picky eater (dang, I wish I'd thought of assigning that name to my DH before someone else did). You may know him from comments I've made on the subject of "things my dog will eat with me that my husband won't."
It is no surprise to me that my stepchildren are all similarly picky eaters, but that's a different topic, and possibly due to cultural, generational, and/or socioeconomic differences, in addition to habits acquired from their parents. I grew up in a large family with little money, of Depression-era parents, where "what do you have a taste for?" was a question about dinner that a child was asked one time a year, on his or her birthday. (On such auspicious occasions, the allowable answers were Burger King whoppers, pizza, spaghetti, or Swiss steak. Think how many Burger King whoppers you have to buy to satisfy seven teenagers. The less demanding, more guilt-ridden among us would ask for the spaghetti or Swiss steak, and look forward to the birthday of one of the more demanding ones when we could get Burger King or pizza.) Suffice it to say my stepchildren get asked the "what do you have a taste for?" question, and control the family's dinner choices, far more often. Having a child refuse to eat what you put in front of him or her, and (watching your spouse) obligingly trotting off to make something else, and then something else, and then something else, until finally the child gets what he or she wanted to eat (most often, chicken nuggets and barbecue sauce), while $30 or more in food has been wasted, is for me, well, behavior from a strange and faraway world with which I cannot identify at all. But anyone who has stepchildren knows there is a lot of biting one's tongue involved.
Back to the adults in the room, though. This is occasionally, and currently, a source of frustration and mystification for me. Others tell me that outside my presence my DH brags about me, that I am a good cook (his ex apparently was not; he survived off the cooking skills of his MIL), as well as an adventurous one, willing to try just about any recipe, and capable of creating all sorts of good things to eat. But when he's tired and grouchy at the end of a long, hard, physical work day, his enthusiasm for my adventurousness in cooking is low to nil, and he can be painfully unappreciative of my efforts. Just today I spent more than 5 hours making a deep dish pizza that, despite my painstaking adherence to the recipe's time and temperature instructions, nonetheless turned out somewhat overcooked. I view that as part of the process of mastering a dish; he views that as ruining one dinner and who knows how many more to come. Times like this, I decide to fall back on Manwich and Hamburger Helper and pork chops and spaghetti sauce and fried chicken for a while, with which at least I know I will get no grousing.
Back in college, I knew and often went out to eat with a married couple who talked about food, commented on their own dishes, traded tastes, and commented on each other's menu choices, to a degree that at the time I found annoying, because I wasn't into food at all at the time. Looking back now, though, I see it was an element of compatibility between them that nourished their bond. It may well have helped hold them together despite incompatibilities and tensions in areas of which I was aware, and others of which I was not. They're still married more than 20 years later.
As most couples learn eventually, and as stevez put it earlier, you don't have to be compatible in everything to be happy together. You just have to learn how to handle the incompatibilities in ways that don't cause stress and discord. I've only been married a few years and I'm still on that learning curve. Sometimes I just have to make the coq au vin or cassoulet or chicken biryani or spring rolls or satay for myself, and save the leftovers for my solo lunch, so I don't mind yet another Manwich night.
"Your swimming suit matches your eyes, you hold your nose before diving, loving you has made me bananas!"