There are few things more universally human than gathering around food and drink.
Long before restaurants, dinner parties, or cocktail bars, we broke bread, shared drinks, and recounted stories - building our history books before the written word became commonplace. Across cultures and centuries, these rituals have marked our most important and our most simple moments. Family lines are traced back through recipes passed down through generations. Our everyday rituals—a morning coffee with a friend, Friday drinks after work, Sunday dinner with family—become the anchors of our lives.
It is my hypothesis this isn't accidental.
Sharing food and drink has always been about much more than consumption. Anthropologists have long recognized communal meals as one of the earliest ways humans built trust and cooperation. It creates a sense of safety, erasing lack and building security.
Offering someone a drink is an invitation.
Passing the plate says, there is enough.
Hospitality is one of humanity's oldest languages. And, it continues to be the language of today.
We often see this in the iconic moments that revolve around it, the way pop culture embraces it: cocktails becoming characters of their own in our favourite tv shows. What we eat and drink often - though sometimes quietly - becomes the backdrop for connection.
Gathering around food and drink quiets scarcity and amplifies abundance. There is enough to share. Enough conversation. Enough time. Enough care. The offered drink, whether from the overflowing ice bucket at a large party or the split beer with a friend after a hard day, reminds us that we belong.
Maybe that's why, when life gets complicated, it can become our vocabulary when words fall short.
I have spent close to two decades in the f&b sector of hospitality. It is an industry (despite its ups and downs) whose sense of joy, creativity and care expressed through nourishment. That has kept me fascinated and dedicated. I have become curious and critical of the trends that guide us towards our next culinary decision. How we choose to celebrate, mourn, relax or de-stress.
Hospitality, at its best, isn't simply service. It's the thoughtful act of anticipating someone's needs before they ask. It's creativity expressed through flavour. It's generosity communicated through small details. It's making someone feel seen, comfortable, and welcome—whether for five minutes or five hours.
Working across restaurants, retail, and beverage programs, I've watched consumer habits evolve dramatically. I've seen ingredients become movements. I've watched obscure spirits become household names. I've witnessed wellness shift from niche to mainstream and us and our communities struggle to balance nuance with inclusivity.
How we gather defines who we are.
Over the last decade non-alcoholic beverages have increasingly become part of mainstream conversation.
For years, choosing not to drink often meant choosing to participate less. Water. Soda. Juices. The experience frequently felt like an afterthought—as though abstaining from alcohol meant abstaining from celebration itself.
That has changed.
Not because people have stopped wanting to gather. Because they never wanted to stop gathering in the first place.
We still want complexity, craftsmanship, ritual, and flavour whether it abv is 0% or 50%. We still want the artistry of beautiful glassware, or funky vessels, we want thoughtful pairings, and something worth lingering over. What we are challenging is whether alcohol itself needs to be the centrepiece of every social occasion.
I believe, as do so many people, the answer is no.
This shift isn't about prohibition or restriction. It isn't about moral superiority, and it certainly isn't about replacing one culture with another. It’s about pulling up all sorts of different chairs to the communal table.
It's about creating spaces where everyone can fully participate, regardless of what's in their glass.
That philosophy is what ultimately led me here.
Acquired Taste isn’t here because alcohol is a problem, it exists because the alternatives deserve to be extraordinary.
In our western society, the conversation around non-alcoholic needs to move from what is missing (let’s be real it’s ethanol, a molecule). To what it’s offering. Great hospitality has never been defined by subtraction. It has always been defined by experience.
Great chefs create memorable dishes by obsessing over texture, balance, acidity, aroma, and story. Great beverages deserve the same treatment.
The producers we work with aren't simply making substitutes. They're creating delicious expressions (both new and traditional) with the use of craftsmanship. They are experimenting with culinary techniques, fermentation, distillation, botanicals, tea, fruit, spice, acidity - to say the least. Our portfolio offerings are worthy of pairing with exceptional food, serving in award-winning restaurants, gifting to loved ones, or opening to acknowledge the wins and the trials of a normal day.
They're premium because of the intention and flavours involved—not because they happen to contain or omit alcohol.
After nearly two decades immersed in hospitality, I remain endlessly curious. Curious about why certain flavours resonate, how something as simple as a fresh strawberry transports you from the current moment to a core childhood memory. Curious about how our cultural behaviours shift. Curious about the rituals we create around the table and the products that become part of those rituals.
Because, ultimately, hospitality has never been about alcohol.
It's about making people feel welcome.
It's about creating moments people remember.
It's about generosity.
Connection.
Care.
The drink simply becomes one expression of all three.