We are having problems with the user log ins this morning. Several users have logged in with their own user name and password, and the system has shown them as someone else.
Hopefully it will get fixed soon!
I'm closing comments on the contest until we get it sorted out, and I'll leave it open for an extra day at the end.
Update: the problem should be fixed, sorry about that!
I have broken the widget-thingie on the right column that lets you log into your reader account so that you can comment. Depending on what browser you are using, you might or might not see it. Sorry. I am working on it. When it's fixed, this post will disappear. Meantime, you should still be able to log in from the comments section of each article.
Update: and I'm also seeing pop up ads on this site that should not be here. Apologies, I will get everything fixed as soon as I can.
Another update: well, this day is gone, but things are sort of mostly fixed. There is a login widget again, although it doesn't look right and I probably won't get it to look right until next week. And the pop up ads, so far as I know, are taken care of. It's too late to start the Monday Mail, so that will appear on Tuesday, and Angela's post that should have appeared today will now be on Thursday. That means the Damage poll is tomorrow, see you then!
After sniffing my way through a tea shop, a rose emporium, a spice shop and a few glasses of wine, naturally I thought it was time to smell some cheese. I know, I know — I can hear you giggling. But let’s get the jokes about sweaty socks and “cutting the cheese” out of the way right up front, because when it comes to aroma, cheese has much more to offer than stink.
“Every cheese — and there are thousands — has a different smell,” says John Antonelli, the owner (with his wife Kendall) of Antonelli’s Cheese Shop, who was kind enough to answer my questions about how scent is important to his work as a cheesemonger. “And it’s not different as in a variation within the same spectrum, it’s different as in night and day. I mean, there are cheeses that smell like roses, there are cheeses that smell like steak, there are cheeses that smell like smoke.”
In fact, when it comes to aroma, cheese is so complex that when Antonelli trains his staff to use their noses, the first thing he tells them is to go home and “start smelling everything as often as they can.” What they need, he says, is to fill their heads with a reference library of aromas from the world around them.
The same kind of cheese can smell markedly different from maker to maker or season to season…
Much of the money that I don’t spend on perfume goes to other household staples, like tea and chocolate. I have “collections” of both that rival my perfume collection in terms of profligacy, but I don’t feel guilty because I do manage to use them all up before they go bad. I wish I could say the same of the perfume.
Today, reviews of two oolong1 teas from from indie natural perfume house Aftelier, and very brief descriptions of two floral chocolates from the British brand Rococo.
This is a lovely flavored Tie Quan Yin oolong. It’s lightly oxidized but with a warm finish, accented with rose (quite noticeable, mostly in the aftertaste) and ginger (subtle but adds a nice kick). If you’re not used to floral scented teas (or foods), it might, at first, seem like drinking perfume, but you’ll get used to it quickly, and if you’ve ever had jasmine tea it will not seem so unusual.
Rose Ginger is reminiscent of one of my favorite Mariage Frères teas, Lune Rouge, but made with a much higher quality tea, and it quickly became one of my favorite scented oolongs of all time.2 It smells fabulous, with just the slightest hint of smoke…
I had had limoncello many times but never different versions side by side. It was easy to notice differences between them. Obviously. What surprised me was an hedonic reaction: I thought two of them (with more complex flavors) were wonderful and one (store-bought) was awful. Both reactions (wonderful and awful) were stronger than usual. In a small way, I’d become a connoisseur. After that, I was happy to buy expensive limoncello (e.g., $26). I no longer bought cheap limoncello ($18).
— Blogger Seth Roberts explains how he became a limoncello connoisseur; read more in The Willat Effect: Side-by-Side Comparisons Create Connoisseurs.
Another corpse flower has bloomed at Western Illinois U, & they're expecting 2 more... http://t.co/oRnROz6j (& they've got live video)