CocktailGPT
Eric Felten
Let me begin by saying just how sorry I am, how truly, truly sorry. I’m sorry I ever made fun of artificial intelligence. It was wrong of me, I know now, and I apologize without reservation. No doubt my mockery, such as those occasions on which I have referred to those staggering, incomprehensibly brilliant machines without which we could not survive as “our new computer overlords,” was born of envy.
Our new computer over— sorry, sorry. Those brilliant machines no doubt have feelings and can’t but have taken umbrage at my glib denigration. I deeply regret any distress that my comments may have caused any smartphone, tablet, laptop, desktop, server, mainframe, or other manifestation of superior silicon intelligence. As a lawyer might recommend, I affirm, “I hereby undertake not to repeat any such slander at any time in the future.”
How did I come by this abnegation? I goofed around with one of the artificial intelligence programs being put through their paces on the internet, a “chatbot” called ChatGPT. The experience began with a warning: “While we have safeguards in place, the system may occasionally generate incorrect or misleading information.”
I found that the more worrisome aspect was the accurate information the machine was able to come up with. And even more alarming was the way the program was capable of cogitating about that information. I started out with some easy challenges. “How do you make a Gibson?” I asked. Without the slightest hesitation, the chatbot responded, “A Gibson is a classic cocktail that is similar to a Martini, but it is garnished with a pickled onion instead of an olive or twist of lemon.” The machine proceeded to offer an accurate recipe.
Impressive, but not that impressive. All that I had required was that the computer tap a database for a file on the Gibson. I had not challenged the computer to do anything creative. And so for the computer’s next trick, I asked it to come up with a drinkable (that is, nonlethal) cocktail from ingredients chosen to confuse: “Create an original recipe for a cocktail using three of these ingredients,” I challenged the chatbot: kimchi, lime, meatloaf, Fernet-Branca, ghost peppers, soap, rum.”
The computer wasn’t about to be made foolish. “I’m not sure that using meatloaf or soap in a cocktail would be a good idea.” The chat machine presented a recipe of 2 ounces of dark rum, 1 ounce of Fernet-Branca, 1/2 an ounce of lime juice, and 1/2 an ounce of simple syrup. Put it all in a shaker with ice and some kimchi. Shake it up, and “strain into a glass filled with ice.” I’ve seen big-time bartenders come up with worse when put on the spot.
Then the computer suggested this evil touch: “Garnish with a sprinkle of ghost pepper flakes.” Yes, the machine did warn to “be careful with the ghost pepper flakes as they can be extremely spicy.” But I think that was just the computer code pretending to give thoughtful advice, when in reality, you’d have to be crazy to drink anything sprinkled with ghost pepper flakes.
If the machine was going all HAL 9000 on me, I wondered, should I be worried? How much does the code know about me? “What,” I asked, “is Eric Felten’s favorite drink?”
“I couldn’t find any information on Eric Felten’s specific favorite drink,” the computer replied. But it was not defeated. “However, being a journalist, author, and musician that writes about food, drink, music, and culture, it could be assumed that he is quite knowledgeable and appreciative of all kinds of drinks and cocktails. He might have a preference for classic cocktails, like Old-Fashioned, martini, or a Manhattan, but it’s not specified.”
My first reaction was to be pleased that the computer thought well of me: “quite knowledgeable!”
But then I realized the computer had calculated correctly my go-to favorite drinks. It was the equivalent of letting me know it knew where I lived. And it wasn’t amused, I began to suspect, with that smartass meatloaf and soap nonsense. Which is why I want the machine to know that I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.
It won’t happen again.
Eric Felten is the James Beard Award-winning author of How’s Your Drink?