Tasting Notes
I did not anticipate my first newsletter taking this long (at this rate, I might rebrand to Overthinking Quarterly). First I was training a bunch, which took up a ton of time, then I was injured, which between cross-training, PT and generally trying to ingratiate myself to the tendonitis gods, took up even more time. But my initial appeal did promise inconsistency, and on that, I will deliver!
Before we get started: some compulsory self-promotion. I’ve been working on a new issue of Trail Runner, and it's our best one yet. You can subscribe here. I’m also elbows deep in Season #2 of DNF (coming June 2022), and you can catch up on Season 1 here (got ideas for a guest? Send em’ my way). I’m also one measly chapter away from fishing my book with Tina Muir, Becoming A Sustainable Runner, and thoughts/prayers are appreciated as I round the final corner on that project. I’ve also done laundry at least once this quarter…maybe. Thanks for your patience and support on this fun side project.
As more and more of our decisions, from music and tv, to products and even food are determined by recommendation algorithms, I’ve become increasingly interested in rebelling against the not-so-gentle guiding hands of our tech overlords. Determined to find out for myself what I like, and why, I started seriously exploring taste.
This winter, an achilles flare-up forced me to spend a little more time couch-bound than usual. Because I could only tolerate so much time on the stationary bike, I decided to get really into coffee. I’ve always been a bit of a brew geek, but perhaps it was a longing to get my heart rate up (by hook or by cup) or a desire to feel like I was progressing at something (if not running) that got me curious about cupping. I decided to make an intentional effort to hone my taste, and keep track of my tasting and brewing in a journal.
Some flavor wheels are complicated and use the colorful language of a sommelier, like this one:
With detailed descriptors like sweet pea, burnt sugar, and lychee. Others are simpler, like the one I use to record my own daily cup. I love how the wheels give language and shape to something that feels as abstract as taste, and render tangible something as ethereal as flavor.
I’ve gravitated toward using coffee as my taste-building framework because wine just tastes like pretending to be an adult, and beer felt too much like a Colorado stereotype. Whiskey tasting feels like alcoholism with a higher word count. My process started with trying to figure out why I liked my current favorite cup of coffee, Onyx’s Ethiopia Beriti Natural. I loved the crisp, clean finish (though might desire a slightly more bodied cup of coffee) and citrusy acidity. I loved the way it lit up the sides of my tongue and was just bitter enough to be shy of causing a pucker.
The most important part of developing my own coffee palette is learning how to make more coffee that I enjoy. My dream cup of coffee would taste a bit like choking on an entire Granny Smith apple (acidic, bright, full mouthfeel and body). Now that I know I like a crisp, citrusy, acidic coffee I can buy and brew more coffee that fits that profile. If I want more body one day, I can reach for the aero-press. If I’m digging a cleaner cup, I’ll break out the v60.
I got curious about how I could cultivate taste in other areas. What would it look like to use a flavor wheel to figure why I like the things I like? My writing flavor wheel would have notches for voicey personal essay, surprising cultural criticism, connection to the natural world, rich fictional world-building, and (High matches: Jia Tolentino, Rebecca Solnit, DFW, Terry Tempest Williams, Wesley Morris. Low-matches: airport spy novels and girl-bossy self-improvement).
My ideal tv-show would index high on production value, compelling female characters, quirky conceit, humor, length, cinematic-ness, and low on violence (High match: Fleabag, Veep, Sex Ed, Russian Doll. Low match: GoT, anything from the Kardashian Extended Cinematic Universe).
My two favorite trail runs are in Telluride, Colorado. After gut-wrenching ski-resort climbs, you’re rewarded with gut-rewarding pie. Alpine eye-candy cream filling alchemizes what could be type-two fun into pure enjoyment. The “Telluride Pizza Haute Route” starts at the base of the gondola, dumps you off the side of the ski resort and into an alpine valley with a steep climb, then a speedy gravel road descent under Bridal Veil Falls and ends at one of two Telluride Pizza joints. The “Telluride Pizza Traverse” starts with a grindy, but mostly runnable climb up Ajax peak, includes a 1.5-mile class 3+ ridgeline traverse, and ends with a speedy descent down Imogene Pass’s fast gravel road ending at yet another downtown pizza locale. I like these runs because they’re steep but runnable, medium-long (17-25 mi), alpine, technical, exposed, not-crowded (by Colorado standards) scenic and start/finish at a pizza place. It’s my trail equivalent of an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Right in my sweet spot.
(A trail tasting note wheel for anyone interested)
Knowing what I like can also help me break out of that mold and try new things. I’m currently having a blast training for a relatively fast, downhill, sub-alpine 100-miler (pizza proximity, TBD. Hit me up with your Placer County pizza recommendations). Sometimes it’s fun to sandbag yourself on something totally out of your comfort zone (mine might be a steep, crowded beach??). Tasting wheels and snobbery aside, I love a good ol’ gravel road grind and cup of cowboy coffee. Taste is good, snobbery for the sake of snobbery, less so.
Maybe you don’t need a tasting wheel to figure out what you like and why, and that’s great too. I’ve found it a useful framework and an analog, punk-rock rebellion against the algorithms that un-subtly guide our lives. Whether it’s a new coffee, book or trail, I love reflecting on the pleasure of overthinking preference and figuring out how to fill my life with more of what I love.
ZR.