Food

Food Triads and Double Dips

Here’s a couple of food science-y items recently brought to my attention.

Firstly - the hygiene issues surrounding ‘communal dipping’. I’m sure everyone is pretty familiar with this practice, unless you live in a cave or something. This New York Times article deals with a study about bacteria levels in dip, with what to me seem quite obvious results - that dipping the same chip twice into a pot of shared dip = more bacteria, although the article seems surprised by this result. The scientist’s general conclusion - do not eat dip at parties unless you’d also be willing to kiss everyone else there, as it (bacterially speaking) adds up to the same thing, a conclusion that makes me feel vaguely paranoid - what if everyone finds out about this study? I foresee situations at parties where eating dip is seen as a come-on, ie if you’re happy to eat the dip, you’re also happy getting off with whoever else is ‘dipping’.

Secondly - a food science challenge! The problem posed is

Can you find three foods such that all three do not go together (by any reasonable definition of foods “going together”) but every pair of them does go together?

(There’s more instructions and explanation under the link)

Anyone got any solutions?

There’s also some interesting possibilities for food science experiments, personally I’d love to see what Lemon Mole tastes like.

 UPDATE: This resource could also be handy here.

(all via kottke.org)

Cheap Food We Love (Ponce Edition): Zits On Toast

Hold on, say you, in what way is the horribly named Zits On Toast ever going to fit into a poncy edition of occasional FT food column “Cheap Food We Love”. Well Zits On Toast is what an acquaintance of mine once named what could otherwise be called poor man’s bruschetta, namely a bruschetta made with cheap crusts of sliced bread and cherry tomatoes. The name comes for the clever observation that said food stuff sported six hemispherical lumps of tomatoes, akin to boils - though boils of a very angry and tomatoey variety. Whilst I have tried to avoid this name for the food in my mind there are three salient facts that always bring it up:

a) left-over slivers of garlic, from being rubbed on the bread do add the requisite milky white counterpoint to the “boils”
b) The cherry tomatoes do “burst” in ones mouth
c) The olive oil can slightly resemble the clear plasma that follows the removal of zit juice … read on …

Wither Marmite Grand Cru?

As loathe as I am to suggest I and my fellow food scientist at Freaky Trigger has started a trend, yet another Marmite Special Edition has reminded me of an experiment we did a few years ago. So yes yes, to Valentine’s Day themed Champagne Marmite, which much like last year Guinness Marmite takes the subtle, go with anything taste of marmite and - well one assumes it just tastes of Marmite. Because, you know, Marmite is a really, really strong flavour. At least the champagne involved is probably that cheapo stuff from Woolies. But if you can think of any other flavours Marmite can completely mask, why not suggest it here.

But nevertheless, before these silly stunts started, we came up with a proper Marmite brand extension, namely Marmite Grand Cru. … read on …

Spoiling Halva

Halva is an acquired taste - I’ve never successfully convinced anyone who’s not had it before that it is nice, despite my efforts. I think it’s the uneasy marriage of bitter and slightly sickly. Last night I was wandering about a local shop looking for ricotta (nothing doing) when I stumbled across this - Helva’m produced by Sebahat. I had to buy some, I liked the shape of the container. It excited me to think I could possess it and have it in my house FOR ALL TIME.I got home and had a bit, as an appetiser before my wonderfully healthy dinner of tiger prawns, broccoli and asparagus (which I later spoiled, condiment wise, by mistaking the balsamic vinegar for the soy sauce. Aciiid!). But back to the helva. Halva. Whatever. It looked like Nutella. I dug down into it a bit expecting some beige strata at some point, but it was Nutella-y all the way down (usually when I eat  halva I like to pretend I am on Time Team, excavating a site. With a teaspoon). It tasted like Nutella without the hazelnuts - ie dull. Just plain Ella. I could just about get a hint of the sesame tones of halva, but very faintly. I am quite capable of eating stupid amounts of almost anything, often regardless of taste, but I couldn’t really see a point in continuing to eat the Helva’m.

It wasn’t the taste that finally stopped me, mind you - it was the consistency. You know how Nutella is spreadable, in a way that means however much you want to to eat it straight from the glass, you feel compelled to employ a bready mediator for the sake of decency? That’s a good thing. It’s useful to be able to spread spread. The picture on the Helva’m tub suggests a similar spreading fate for its contents, but the consistency is like a thick clay. You’d have to melt this stuff before it would spread evenly, and even then I’m not convinced it would work. So I figured it was meant to be eaten from the tub, because who’d be crazy enough to melt this stuff down each time they wanted a snack?! (Well, I say ‘I figured’; I was actually too lazy to bother doing anything else). I found myself having to bite the stuff off the spoon, which is not the intended consumption technique for spoons - I tried licking it, but the damn stuff was practically waterproof, like slightly softer plasticine. Once in my mouth it took a lot of mastication to get it to unstick from my palate. My neck muscles actually ached trying to swallow a spoonful. Then I got a headache. So, er, thanks Sebahat, for ruining halva for me. The name even connotes hesitation if you squint a bit - Helva?  Um ……no thanks.

Helva’m tastes of very little, is waterproof and incredibly sticky. I think I’m going to grout the bathroom with it.

Corporate Chicken: When Will I Be Famous (Bowl)

There is something fascinating about the differences in the generic. If the point of global fast food brands is a comforting familiarity, it is the surprising differences which can sometimes make them even more interesting*. The nature of franchising may mean standardised menus, but it can also allow wiggle room for quirks of decor, and style. However it is the deviation from the standard menus which often intrigue me. Now I am not going to get all Royale With Cheese on your arse (ass?) but every now and then the new products which may never turn up in the UK give pause for though. And even over here I am sure there are burgers which rock up in MacDonald’s which might intrigue someone from the heartland.

And so to the Famous Bowl. This is the first I have heard of this product - a typically sniffy but one assumes probably correct AV Club review**. For the Famous Bowl is - well let the copywiters at KFC have their moment in the sun:

“We start with a generous serving of our creamy mashed potatoes, layered with sweet corn and loaded with bite-sized pieces of crispy chicken. Then we drizzle it all with our signature home-style gravy and top it off with a shredded three-cheese blend. It’s all your favorite flavors coming together.”

. This picture is how it is supposed to look. Click through to how it actually looks. … read on …

I Wanna Make You Sweet

Sweetbreads: culinary term for the pancreas or thymus. However a lot of people (myself included) still think sweetbreads are testicles. I mean its al OM NOM NOM NOM as far as I am concerned, and once prepared I am not sure I could necessarily taste the difference, even with a Sainsbury’s Taste The Difference “Sweetbread Platter”. But the culinary term for testicles is sometime sweetmeats. Though actually since testicles ad/or sweetmeats rarely show up in British cookery, we are better off learning the international culinary term for bollocks namely Animelles.

Wikibooks has the best definition I have ever seen:
Sweetmeat is the culinary name for testicles. Despite the name, sweetmeat is not sweet and is usually not considered to be meat.

Sweetmeats are also another name for sweets though, and often applied to Turkish or Indian sweets, which are also not considered to be meat though are often cloyingly sweet. And not bollocks. … read on …

Brandwatch AKA Snifflewatch: Lemsip Cold & Flu Max Strength Direct

This is not a new brand but Lemsip’s latest salvo in the war against the uncurable common cold (via our wallets) was new to me when I tried it yesterday. You might think that putting a couple of capsules in your mouth is pretty direct, ditto drinking some Lemsip, but these things are simply not direct enough for the modern convenience-led consumer. This is one of those products where you can see the “customer insight” clear as day: “I want to take Lemsip but I am busy and on the go and do not have any water*”. EUREKA!! Instead I will take this sachet of Lemsip powder which I will pour directly onto my tongue! Then I can get my relief from colds ANYWHERE!! … read on …

Chestnut Kit Kat (KitKat Wa Guri)

Mmm chestnuts, how festive! I know it’s January, but I bought, and ate this Kit Kat last year so it’s still okay and bah humbug to the haters. Chestnut Kit Kat then: I’m sad to say that I am not really a big fan of this one. It felt too milky, like getting a latte when you wanted something that could hit the bottom end. The chestnut spread element was quite desultory - I had anticipated it would have been a lot more, well, nutty, but sadly not. The chocolate itself iirc is sort of cappuccino coloured rather than dark which again was a bit disappointing. I can’t help but feel that someone somewhere got the wrong idea about chestnuts and thought they were light and frothy instead of roasted and sweet. I give the chestnut kit kat 3/10 and will get me a bag of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor on the way home instead and scoff them down with a dark chocolate Kit Kat. Mmmmm!!

Self-Organizing Systems In The London Bridge Pret A Manger

I have been re-reading Philip Ball’s Critical Mass, his book about “social physics”, how the study of physics can lead us to understand aggregate human behaviour better. It’s very wide-ranging and interesting, with pretty obvious implications for my day job. One of Ball’s early chapters is about path-formation and “flocking” (eg. how a mass of people can most efficiently leave a room - vital to understand this when planning fire exits etc.). He doesn’t actually mention queue formation but it’s the same sort of thing, and it’s a problem that strikes me when I go into Pret A Manger for the occasional breakfast bacon and egg baguette of a morning (om nom nom). … read on …