The Apple
by Nathan Graham Davis
Taste is more enigmatic a sense than sight. Even sound is carried by waves and so can be translated into language understood by the most modest of computers, but how can one expect to grasp the word "bitter" without experiencing it firsthand? Every taste is defined by yet more tastes, which makes the whole thing maddening when trying to cultivate a menu for a master. I can recognize the imperfections in an apple's skin, the chemical composition of the pesticides still coating it, the crunch it makes when its flesh is cleaved by teeth, but the taste remains elusive.
