Bitters

Never succumb to the taste of bitterness.  (Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Yesterday, I had a brief Twitter exchange with the person who tweeted this Salon.com article.  It is a "follow me" kind of piece, in which the intrepid journalist plays with a bitter blocker.  A bitter blocker is just what it says: a kind of immunity granting substance which, when employed, alters your tongue/brain communication so that you will not perceive most of the 50 or so types of bitter.  Burnt toast becomes just toast.  Beer shifts to umami.  Stuff like that.  (Apparently, orange bitters...not the kind in a bottle on the bar, but the kind inside an orange peel...are not covered in this particular chemical insurance plan.)  When I philosophically Tweeted "but do we WANT to mask that which is bitter," I got a very literal response about a particular application of bitter blocking: the salt on the rim of a Greyhound cocktail, and the high volume of salt in commercially prepared broth.  Fair and true.

Still, I pondered.

Embedded in that article is a link to another article, one about scent memories and attachments.  It includes that phenomenon we have discussed before, the fact that we need to familiarize ourselves with foreign tastes, exposing ourselves to them a number of times before we can even begin to formalize our impressions of them, let alone sort them into an "opinion."  (Which would then seem to raise the spectre of the "first I liked/did not like you" chart, but further sorting is not part of their discussion.)

The fluctuation of memory.

Reading backwards.

The influence of the food we eat as children upon our preferences as adults.

Whether we should mask that which is bitter.

On a holiday the United States sets aside in honor of the memory and legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., it seems to me there's lots of food for thought right there.

First Variation: Pairings

I wish I knew more about both bar chef-ery and perfumery.  I'd be so much better at this post.  Nonetheless, here goes...

I have a fantasy party.  Two variations.  One revolves around pairings of scent and beverage.  The other, presentations of "flights" of scent along the lines of the increasingly popular flights of (champagne/scotch/wine/beer) available at certain establishments.  Today, variation #1.

PAIRINGS

Let's run this as a game.  I'll go first.  

I met a delightful liqueur last winter.  St. Germain.  Made from elderflowers, but I spent a number of weeks thinking of it as a violet based beverage.  Maybe because I had recently been reading about violet liqueurs (not that there are many in that realm); maybe because when I first tested Apres L'Ondee, I was reminded of when I tried St. Germain.  Now, is that because they smelled alike?  Because I was so happy-surprised when I first encountered each?  Because each made me wistful-happy?*

I don't know.  This needs research.  Party #1.

But there should be other pairings available.  I'm thinking there are certain ambers that will go well with a good scotch.  Maybe a Midori concoction to accompany Un Jardin Apres le Mousson--but I've been too afraid of losing my, erm, composure over the melon in that one to have given it a go yet.  

Black Cashmere with ... no, need something more peat-y.  Oooh, layer Black Cashmere with Black March; accompany with a shot of Jameson's?

My kids, when allowed to indulge in soda pop at a fountain, like to concoct what they call a "suicide," which is essentially a blend of everything dispensed at that fountain.  However, there are certain combinations that they say are guaranteed winners, and they particularly like root beer with orange (heavier on the root beer).  What is the spritzer to accompany that?  

I'd like to compile a list.  Beverages can be hot or cold, alcoholic or non.  Thoughts?

*BTW, St. Germain is lighter than the heavy sweet violets on one end of the perfume spectrum, and not as earthy as the other.  There is some dark sugar lurking...maybe it's a Chanel with a Guerlain uncle?