If you ever come to my home and look in the refrigerator, there's a few things that will ALWAYS be there: way too many condiments, cheeses of all kinds, and tea. I've been drinking sweet tea instead of water for as long as I can remember......a dentist's nightmare I imagine.
When I was growing up, my dad always carried this big black plastic Texaco thermos around with him everywhere. Two acres of land with wide open surroundings can seem like a very big place to a little girl, but I always knew where to find my dad's drink.
I don't know if it was the mug, or because it was my father's and not mine, but ice tea always tasted the best coming from that thing. It was always the perfect temperature, with just the right flavor, and poured out at just the right gulping speed. It didn't matter if I had my own glass; if his was around it was my hydration of choice.
I got my first taste of beer from that mug. I had a feeling it drove him crazy that he couldn't ever have a drink to himself without some "skillet licker" (one of his many affectionate nicknames he had for my brother and me) slobbering all over his favorite cup, but I didn't care. On one hot summer day, I hastily wrapped my grubby tomboy hands around the robust body of the magic mug while my dad wasn't looking, took a big gulp and BAM!!
What the deuce was that? That didn't taste anything like what I was expecting.........my dad's beloved tea. It was bubbly and smelly and tasted like bug spray. I spit it out as fast as I could, but couldn't shake the lingering bitterness. "Gross!! What was that?!?!?" I whined.
"Beer."
My dad. The man of few words, unless it's something he really cares about. Then he has plenty of words, as long as you give him hours to days for contemplating his response between exchanges.
My dad. The man of few words, unless it's something he really cares about. Then he has plenty of words, as long as you give him hours to days for contemplating his response between exchanges.
"Why didn't you tell me?!?"
"Shouldn't have been drinking it anyway."
Touche, dad. Touche.
I guess you're wondering where I'm going with this?
Why does coffee always taste better when coming from a Starbucks cup? If I close my eyes and try not to think about the origin, I'm pretty certain mine tastes very similar......I actually make it with the same syrups Starbucks does and use the same techniques........but that darn cup changes the whole impression on my taste buds.
The same phenomenon happens when my mom makes gravy.
The same phenomenon happens when my mom makes gravy.
I'm just baffled here.
Are your taste buds prejudice or bias?
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