Shifting the Narrative: The Future of Flavour
Flavour doesn’t exist in your glass, it exists only in your mind. Such a notion may sound like heresy, but as we peel away the sensory layers, the reality of flavour becomes apparent. Clinging to the idea that flavour exists outside of one’s own consciousness, as we shall see, is detrimental to brands, to consumers, and to the future of food and drink. Now is the time to shift the narrative, and bring the sensory experience into the 21st century.
If a Tree Falls Down in the Forest…
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? This well-known philosophical thought experiment raises perhaps a more pertinent question about the nature of flavour. The initial idea considers if sound exists if no one hears it. Which naturally is dependent on how one defines sound – is it the experience of interpreting sound waves or the sound waves themselves? But let’s swap trees for drams.
If a dram of whisky falls over in the forest and no one smells it, does it have an odour? What we think of as odours are merely volatile molecules – airborne messengers that our olfactory apparatus has evolved to intercept. However, they are nothing more than molecules, and while we commonly agree that certain molecules have certain odours, our perception of such odours is an entirely internal experience. Allow me to explain.
Odour molecules bind to our olfactory receptors in the nasal cavity and trigger an electrical signal. This signal is relayed to the olfactory bulb, which acts like a sorting office, before being sent to the brain for further processing in regions such as the piriform cortex (identifying odour characteristics), the amygdala (emotional significance of odours), and the hippocampus (linking odours to memories).
Once the signals reach higher brain areas, they are merged with other inputs such as gustatory (taste), tactile (mouthfeel), and even visual cues. Factors such as past experiences, cultural background, and environmental cues shape how the brain interprets the information.
The point is that volatile molecules themselves do nothing more than initiate a series of events that result in perception. There are many opportunities along these neurological pathways for variation in perception between individuals. But things get even more interesting once we bring genetic variability into the equation.
Whisky Lakes and Gene Pools
The individual genetic make-up of each of us plays a huge role in why we can perceive the same stimuli in different ways. On average we each have a 30% variation in our olfactory receptor genes. Research that studied such genetic variability found that 63% of the olfactory genes studied had polymorphisms, i.e. they had the possibility of two or more variations due to mutations. This is why large differences in the detection thresholds of tastes and odours are commonplace.
For example, some people may detect a strong coconut note in whisky lactones, while others cannot smell coconut at all. Some people are very sensitive to bitter tastes, whilst others can tolerate seemingly unbearably bitter green vegetables. Fresh coriander is another great example whereby genetic variability determines whether it tastes delicious and fresh or horrendously soapy. And to some people benzaldehyde smells of almonds whilst to others it’s cherries!
Even our state throughout the day will alter our perception of flavour. You will likely have experienced for yourself how the same drink will taste differently when sampled over consecutive days, or even throughout a single day. Circadian rhythm, metabolic rate, emotional state, fatigue, natural biome, satiation, and daily experiences all combine to alter the perception of flavour. Our senses can be very easily tricked too.
A famous study tricked expert wine tasters into believing that white wines tasted like red wines, simply by altering the colour. 54 undergraduates from the Faculty of Oenology of the University of Bordeaux selected red wine-associated descriptors for white wine samples, allowing visual cues to override olfactory cues.
Combined, this all brings us to a fascinating question…
Can Anything Have Inherent Flavour?
Given such variability in how we perceive flavours, how can it be possible to state that any drink can taste this way or that? Does coriander taste fresh or soapy? Does benzaldehyde smell of almonds or cherries? There’s no single answer as it’s dependent on who is perceiving such things. This notion is often expressed through the tasting notes of third-party reviewers. Reading two different perspectives of the same tipple can often leave one pondering if they are both talking about the same drink.
The conclusion, if we hark back to trees in the forest, is that a drink in a glass does not have flavour. One’s brain creates flavour as the end result of a complex series of events that start with molecules interacting with our various receptors. Because such perceptions are different for each of us, even though we can very broadly agree, it is not possible to purport that flavour exists anywhere other than in one’s head.
Yet the practice to informing people what they should be ‘tasting’ remains commonplace. How can we talk about cinnamon to the folks whose OR2B11 gene is switched off, the gene responsible for the detection of cinnamon aroma (cinnamaldehyde)? Or fruity flavour to those whose OR4E2 gene is switched off (fruity pear drops), or even mint to those without an active OR8K3 gene (menthol)?
Shifting the Flavour Narrative
It’s not to say that tasting notes are redundant relics that are no longer fit for purpose. Notes play an important role for online purchases for example. Through engaging a large enough panel team when assessing samples, it’s possible to arrive at a consensus. The larger the group, the more widely applicable the consensus. Hence, large panel teams play an important role for producers and independent bottlers, as opposed to relying on the opinion of just a few, regardless of their ‘expertise’.
However, changing the narrative around flavour helps us to break away from the restrictive notion that flavour exists outside of one’s head. It helps to remove feelings of incompetency amongst newcomers to tastings through teaching people that flavour is as personal as one’s own thoughts. Telling people what they should taste, despite good intentions, is the same as telling people what to think.
As consumers seek richer and more meaningful interactions with drink brands, clinging to old habits is becoming increasingly detrimental for brands, for consumers, and for the drinks industry as a whole. The knowledge is available to change the narrative around flavour. We are passionate about being a conduit for that knowledge, it’s up to the consumer-facing teams to invest in it, embrace it, and help create a narrative that’s a better fit for purpose.