Like fog, I’m rolling into my second column reviewing drinks from The Sink. I am looking forward to making some horrifically cringey jokes on the topic of this week’s feature — the Medford Fog.
I am going in blind this week, as I have never tried the original London Fog nor its Sink counterpart.
I like to think the Medford Fog received its name through an act of rebellion. I’m sure you’re aware of the Boston Tea Party, but let me fill you in on the equally as impactful, but slightly less known, event: the Medford Tea Party. Sink workers, tired of the Tufts administration’s economic tyranny, decided to take their overly-taxed Hotung Earl Grey tea and dump it into the Mystic River. From that day forward, the student-run coffee shop was independent, making the Medford Fog a reminder of the Sink revolution.
I know what you’re thinking — this gal is so creative, how does she come up with this stuff? While it's all a little foggy, I think it came to me in a dream, or maybe eighth grade history class.
Now onto the review, I keep hitting The Sink wait time jackpot because I only waited 4 minutes and 25 seconds today.
Despite making myself known as an avid Sink-goer, I still commit amateur moves, such as asking for an iced Medford Fog. Apparently, that’s a cardinal sin because the barista looked at me like I just said I hated all of “Brat” by Charli XCX. So, this week, instead of the typical hot/iced combo, I got two hot drinks, one with 2% milk and the other with oat milk.
In the end, I’m glad there wasn’t an iced version as I think it would have ruined the essence of this drink.
Upon first sip, I was transported to the perfect snow day, (being from Buffalo, NY I got a lot of those), where after a long morning of building snowmen with my siblings I got to snuggle up by a crackling fire with a book and a heartwarming drink. Medford Fog has the defining qualities of such a drink. The familiar floral taste of Earl Gray tea, combined with the hint of sweetness offered by the vanilla and the cushion of that 2% milk made me feel like I was sitting on a cloud.
But then I tried the oat milk version, and well, let’s just say it mist. (Get it?) I have given oat milk so many chances, but for every taste it’s like that Quaker Oat guy is looming over me, destroying the soft nuances of any drink it touches, trying to convert me to his Quaker ways and not letting me taste anything other than that oh-so-oaty flavor.
You know, the funny thing is I’ve never actually seen fog in Medford. Stay tuned, especially my lactose intolerant readers, for next week’s drink — Soylent Green.
Always brewing the best reviews,
Dylan Fee
