Can You Get Drunk From Food Cooked With Alcohol In It?

Apr 26, 2023

I love cooking with alcohol. Whether it's pouring a quarter-bottle of shit red into a pasta sauce or mixing leftover bubbles into pancake batter (a hack that will forever change your brunch game, you’re welcome), there isn't a single recipe I haven't tried to booze up over the years. Subjectively, it always makes a recipe better; more complex, more intense. Of course, that could be the alcohol talking.

While recently preparing my not-remotely-famous boozy bolognese for a friend ("god, we’re going to get drunk off that!" she half-joked), I felt the need to explain the science behind alcohol getting "cooked off" as it's heated. Only I don't actually know anything about science, so I googled it. Then, to my genuine surprise, I discovered I had it all wrong.

Alcohol doesn't, in fact, "burn off" when heated. And scientists have been trying to get the word out for years. According to the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), dishes or sauces containing alcohol will retain 40 percent of their alcohol after 15 minutes of cooking, 35 percent after 30 minutes and 25 percet after an hour, but never – and I really mean never – does the alcohol disappear completely.

Finally: A conspiracy I can get behind! One I could even put to the test! A few days later, breathalyser in hand, I set out on a mission to see if I could get drunk on boozy foods.

The breathalyser with the remains of my olives. Photo courtesy of author

After a dry lunch in every sense of the word, I’m at a measly 0.00 percent BAC (AKA blood alcohol level, or the percent of alcohol in my bloodstream). You’re considered legally drunk at 0.08 percent.

First off, a few Olives Et Al olives, which are preserved in a 40 percent ABV lemon-infused gin. I avoid drinking the liquid, but manage to spill enough on myself to smell like a dirty martini – would not recommend. I eat two, then stop. They’re pretty strong. I’ll breathalyse after 20 minutes, which is roughly how long alcohol takes to start metabolising, and roughly how long it will take me to soap the gin out of my trousers.

0.01! From two olives?? I breathalyse a few more times to double-check. Result: Somehow, I’m sober again. It seems like my walk to my next destination has burned off the alcohol.

Reading: 0.01 BAC and, subsequently, 0.00 BAC

The prawn stew. Photo courtesy of author

Thankfully, I’ve just arrived at Cavo, one of London's newest and fanciest restaurants, to eat as many booze-filled dishes as possible. First up, pan-fried scallops with a champagne butter and chilli. The waitress tries to clear the plate before I have the chance to drink the sauce from the bowl like an animal. No chance. After I slurp it down, I test myself: 0.00 BAC.

No luck here. I’m on to the next dish, a delightful red prawn and bean stew made with Chardonnay. There's enough sauce here to justify a good amount of wine used in the cooking process, but I still come up as 0.00 BAC after I wolf it down.

Reading: 0.00 BAC both times

The lamb chops. Photo courtesy of author

Next up, a 28-day aged rack of Lazio Abbachio Romano Lamb prepared with Chianti. A few bites in, I remember I don't actually like lamb. Why did I order this? I give it another plate lick for good measure anyway, but I’m still registering a measly 0.00 BAC on my breathalyser.

As all else has failed, I pull my back-up plan from my bag: Smith & Sinclair's mad little vegan cocktail gummies, boasting a 5 percent ABV per gummy. To my delight, the Whisky Sour gummy actually tastes like whisky. Surely, this has to w—

0.00 BAC: no dice. Photo courtesy of author

0.00 BAC. Sigh. With nothing to lose, I order a cocktail. Might as well give this cocky little breathalyser a shock. Victory: One cocktail and I’m well over the limit at 0.10 BAC. So over the limit, in fact, I forget to take a proper photo of my reading. In conclusion, I’ve learned that while the science around alcohol molecules remaining in food is indisputable, no one's using enough of it to get you drunk on food. That, and I’m a lightweight – even on olives.

By signing up, you agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy & to receive electronic communications from Vice Media Group, which may include marketing promotions, advertisements and sponsored content.