In Rebecca Harding’s short story “Life in the Iron Mills,” Harding writes, “The idiosyncrasy of this town is smoke.” I originally read this story nearly two years ago, yet this line still resonates with me. The concept that we one symbol, word, image can define a place captivates me. As I traveled on my global gap year, I began attempting to identify the idiosyncrasies of each town; suffice it to say I could not fulfill the task. I soon realized just how difficult it is to summarize an entire place–its culture, its people, its essence–in one word. As Nicola Twilley began her discussion of terroir and aeroir, I wondered if perhaps she had a better sentiment. Maybe language does not suffice. Maybe taste is the answer. I am so intrigued by this gastronomy; I wonder if smell can transport us to a far away memory, can taste transport us to a far away place? What emotional value comes from both terroir and aeroir?¬†Individual experience is so varied, which perhaps make writing the idiosyncrasy of a town subjective. But, is air, smell, taste all subject to equal subjectivity? Or are these senses exempt from the distortion of the individual lived experience?