Chaimberg slides on black latex gloves and takes what looks like a giant eye dropper. He puts a droplet of a green sauce, made from organic serrano peppers by a company called Small Axe Peppers in the Bronx, on a cardboard tasting spoon and offers it to me. “How’s the heat on that?” Chaimberg asks. “On a scale of one to 10.” I tell him it’s about a four for me. “I’d use this one on Mexican food,” he says. “Or eggs.”
Indeed, what the rise of specialized taste education, the cult of sensory analysis, and the wine-ification of everything means is that taste is becoming more and more codified all the time. There are good tastes and bad tastes; not only that, there’s a growing caste of gatekeepers in every field who are keeping score on what tastes great, middling and flawed. Maybe this is what morality or philosophy looks like in an increasingly post-religious, post-intellectual, materialistic United States. We are a people in need of an authority, a higher voice, some guidance — even if it comes from behind the cheese counter. Maybe, for many affluent Americans, the sommeliers of everything represent something shaman-like. Listen to me. I am your one true sommelier.

Located in Winter Park, part of Orlando’s sprawling suburban area, Ethos Vegan Kitchen does exactly what it says on the tin: serves up ethically sourced, vegan food while showcasing the potential of vegan cooking. Working with environmentally conscious local farmers and producers, and using organic ingredients as much as possible, the restaurant has built up a loyal following in the area. No wonder – it offers anything from pastas and pizzas to salads, sandwiches and mains, with a menu that is both tantalizing and rewarding, and which features regularly changing specials. Beer lovers will not be disappointed either, as Ethos Vegan Kitchen has sourced several high-quality organic brews to pair with any meal option.
Charly Robinson, who runs F&D Kitchen & Bar and F&D Cantina in Lake Mary, moved into the building that previously housed Peppino’s Organic Italian Kitchen in the newly minted Hourglass District ­– one of the hottest neighborhoods in the city. Robinson subsequently spruced the place up making it even more inviting and welcoming than before without compromising the restaurant’s convivial mien. A bevy of Neapolitan-style pies are offered from a bianca with fennel sausage and rapini to three-milk blue cheese with caramelized onions and rosemary, as are a trio of vegan pies. But a cacio e pepe from their pasta offerings is what’s causing a stir amongst the city’s noodle hounds.
“You can’t study the day before and take this test,” says Jane Bauer, the certification manager for the American Cheese Society. The professionals taking this test need at least 4,000 hours of work experience in the cheese business. “There’s a difference between certification and certificates. A lot of people try to call things certifications, and they’re not.”
Chef Shuichi Tanida left his post at Epcot’s Mitsukoshi restaurant to open a downtown ramen shop (appropriately dubbed “The Ramen”) in the former Philly Connection space and the soup cognoscenti have caught on. The broths, be it tonkotsu, shoyu or miso are unquestionably legit and there’s even a vegan ramen offered. The soup-averse can give any of the donburi (rice bowls) or bento boxes (with choice of karaage, panko-fried chicken tender, or potato croquette) a go but, really, it’s all about the ramen at The Ramen.
If you aren't incorporating your Instant Pot into your morning routine (or, you know, a Saturday morning at least!), you simply aren't reaching its full potential. The Internet's favorite multi-cooker grants all the benefits of a top-notch homemade breakfast in a fraction of the time, all while making a much smaller mess. At least set aside 10 minutes for your own personal batch of steel-cut oats—once you've had a bowl, you'll never turn back to the microwavable stuff again. 
When I visit Armenteros at the shop in Princeton, he guides me into the humidor, amid shelves of boxes and hundreds of cigars. “The most fulfilling, exciting thing we do,” he says, “is when you take a customer to another level. When you open up their enjoyment. That’s the greatest thing a tobacconist, or any sommelier, can do.” He talks excitedly about the differences among Nicaraguan, Dominican and Cuban tobacco, wrappers grown in Connecticut or Ecuador, the size or “ring gauge,” from skinny lancero to coronas to robustos to thick Churchills. A Padrón cigar, from Nicaragua, “is a steak, a wagyu.” Meanwhile, another cigar from the Dominican Republic “is like fish. It’s an elegant, delicate cigar.” We compare what spirits to pair with cigars, and both of us agree that describing flavors is not easy. “Not just in cigars,” he says, “but in any world of organoleptic delicacies.” He points to some cigars he’s been aging for close to a decade. I ask if cigars can age like wine. “F— yeah,” he says.
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