The Keefer is the only place I’m aware of that’s actually serving tuning-fork-blended cocktails, so I met there with several people, including David, Danielle, and a woman named Free Lee, who works at the bar and is also a somatic and energy therapist. In addition to its (possible) mixological applications, harnessing vibrations is a form of alternative medicine, in which tuning forks are placed on ailing people like acupuncture needles. (There’s also a fledgling industry selling “vibration infused” beverages intended to improve health. An Ontario company called Wave Miracle Water, for instance, offers water with “vibrational encoding” in four wellness-enhancing frequencies.)

Free had brought tuning forks for our experiment. Two identical Manhattans were poured out from the same mixing glass. A tuning fork in the pitch of C‑sharp was struck and the handle end was pressed against one glass; the other was left unmolested.

I sipped. And I was pretty convinced that the two drinks tasted subtly different, with the tuning-fork variant a hint brighter and livelier. This seemed undeniable proof of one of two things: either vibrations can change drinks, or I am highly susceptible to suggestion. I assumed the latter, but felt further experimentation was called for.

Back home, I bought my own tuning fork (pitch of A, 440 Hz) and started carrying it around to bars. One thing I learned rather quickly: pulling out a tuning fork in a bar and putting it against your drink is an effective way to ensure that no one will sit near you.

I tested the tuning fork on a variety of drinks, including Manhattans and daiquiris. Once, on my first sip, I was convinced that a properly tuned Manhattan was tastier and more luminous than a regular one, much as it had seemed in Vancouver. On the second sip, though, I couldn’t detect any difference.

I also tried a series of blind taste tests—putting out three glasses of a spirit, then leaving the room while someone applied a tuning fork to a single glass. I was able to correctly identify which drink had been “tuned” approximately one-third of the time.

So I altered my approach. Instead of putting the end of the fork against the glass, I started putting the tines into the drink itself. This created mesmerizing little ripples, but didn’t seem to alter the flavor. (Procedural note: I was unable to determine whether a vibrationally enhanced cocktail improved my sense of well-being, because it was impossible to control for the fact that drinking always seems to improve my sense of well-being.)

I still keep the tuning fork with me when I go out drinking. Who knows? Perhaps one day I’ll find the right drink, and a vibrational metamorphosis will take place. I’m also thinking of getting a larger tuning fork; perhaps I’m not applying enough hertz to the process. In the meantime, the tuning fork remains handy for another reason: sometimes I just don’t like people sitting too close to me at the bar.