"Our study confirmed that in an environment of loud noise, our sense of taste is compromised. Interestingly, this was specific to sweet and umami tastes, with sweet taste inhibited and umami taste significantly enhanced," Robin Dando, one of the study's authors, told the Cornell Chronicle after the study came out.
But then the playoffs arrive, and you and I are reminded of what makes twilight football-outdoors and on grass-special. You start off in broad daylight as both teams fuck around for a quarter or two. Then the sun slowly begins to bleed away, taking all distractions along with it as it sinks below the horizon. Now we're in primetime, when everyone is watching. Now every player on the field is in the spotlight, and you, the viewer at home, are dialed in.
Used to strain ice and other ingredients out of shaken cocktails, a Hawthorne strainer is a small, flat, spoon-like gadget with holes plus a coiled spring around the edge. You simply fit it over the rim of a glass or shaker tin before pouring liquids through. It's essential for cleanly separating the cocktail from the ice without spilling or creating a mess during the pour.
There is no environment more hostile to our senses than an airplane. In her book, Naglich explains how the recycled, stale cabin air dries out our noses and mouths, effectively muting our taste receptors. This means nothing tastes the way it should at 35,000 feet, so the cocktail you're making needs to be packed with flavorful components, otherwise it won't taste like much of anything.
"I wouldn't say the bramble is the only way to enjoy contemporary gin, but it's absolutely one of the most flattering cocktails to highlight the category," says Justin Lavenue, co-owner of Austin's famed cocktail bar The Roosevelt Room. "Contemporary gins, which tend to lean away from heavy juniper and more toward citrus, floral, root, and herbaceous notes, shine in cocktails where those subtleties have room to breathe. Unlike many other gin-based classics, the bramble gives them exactly that platform."
just before we collectively stumbled into this shitty timeline marred by "fake news" and idiot fascism, a journalist did that thing that journalism used to do: hold power to account. In this case, the power was Big Bay Leaf, and the reporter was Kelly Conaboy, writing for the Awl on a "vast bay leaf conspiracy" that-then as now-cons well-meaning home cooks into buying weird leaves that taste and smell like "nothing."
While one of the bartenders at the legendary Connaught Bar in London mixes your martini tableside, you're invited to choose your bitters to complete the drink. Lavender, perhaps? Or would tonka, coriander, or cardamom please you? Oh, what about the house-developed Dr. Ago's? Whatever your choice, you feel special for having collaborated on your order. But in truth, the selection process is so carefully planned by the Connaught that they're still behind the wheel. It's customization and control in perfect balance.
I was very familiar with the history because I've been writing cocktail history for 25 years. For my last book before this one, I was the editor-in-chief and principal writer of the Oxford Companion to Spirits and Cocktails, a huge reference book that includes histories and biographies of famous bartenders, as well as other related information. So a lot of the information was pretty fresh in my mind.
