Nothing refreshes a European like a lukewarm glass of Coca Cola.
We can assume they are refreshed, since that's the beverage of choice when the thermometer hits 32° (that would be 90° to you and me). Ask for ice and the request is either met with a blank stare or fulfilled with two tiny slivers that dissolve on contact with the tepid beverage.
Here in the land of plenty, we take ice cubes for granted. We expect them in our soft drinks and in every glass of water at every restaurant. Our home refrigerators dispense a continual stream of them, and when there's a party we buy bags of ice cubes to fill buckets and tubs. There's an ice machine in the hallway and a bucket in every room of every hotel or motel from coast to coast. Just try and find that in Paris' George V.
The ice cold war.
Historians, cultural critics, economists, culinarians, and the medical community have all weighed in on European ice avoidance. Theories abound to explain the continent's cold shoulder:
- The poor quality of many of Europe's urban water supplies produces unpalatable cubes.
- Energy costs are higher.
- Smaller houses, smaller, kitchens, smaller freezers.
- Teeth are overly sensitive to cold due to the notoriously inferior dental hygiene of certain nations.
And then there are the explanations for America's warm embrace:
- Big cups, loads of ice, free refills—in the U.S. we believe that more, not less, is more!
- The taste of our inferior whiskeys and other spirits welcomes dilution.
- Our taste buds lack an appreciation of nuance and subtlety.
Puis-je avoir de la glace s'il vous plaît?
Posso avere un po di ghiaccio per favore?
Могу ли я иметь лед, пожалуйста?
Kann ich etwas Eis bitte?¿Puedo tener un poco de hielo, por favor?
Can I have some ice please?
Gigabiting: where food meets culture and technology.
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