We’ve been having major heatwaves at DFC headquarters. So, even though summer doesn’t officially arrive for another week, we’ve already fully committed to the best of hot weather living. (In Canada, sometimes it’s enough that there’s no snow!) This includes wearing shorts, transitioning to cold brew coffee, and eating lots and lots of the perfect summer fruit: watermelon!

I love watermelon: on its own, in drinks, or as part of a salad. But the fruit is usually gone from my plate so quickly that I’d never really spared a thought for its provenance. Scientists, however, have – apparently, the genetic history of the large crunchy berry (technically!) has long been a mystery. But, as Isaac Schultz at Gizmodo reports, a team of international researchers have unravelled the surprising legacy of the world’s best melon.

“As lead author Susanne Renner, a botanist at the University of Munich, put it, ‘everybody thought that there were only four wild species and that the sweet watermelon that we eat today came from South Africa.’ But in 2015, one of her then-graduate students, Guillaume Chomicki, found through DNA sequencing of different specimens across Africa that the suspected watermelon ancestor in the south was just a distant relation. […]

‘We know that large, long watermelons were eaten raw 4,360 years before present in Egypt, thanks to ancient iconography,’ Chomicki said, ‘but the drawings are of whole fruit, and thus we cannot know if they were already red.’ Without material evidence, the researchers relied on a combination of genetic research and historical context. The samples of melon the team used were from Darfur, which was once Nubia. Renner said it’s possible that the crop was domesticated in Nubia and then made its way up the Nile through trade.”

My respect for watermelon has only deepened with this digging up of its proverbial roots. With our society’s general disconnect from our agriculture’s fruits, it feels like a gift to know precisely where – and when – a given melon is from. Knowing I’m eating a slice of history next time I bite into my favourite summer snack will, I think, make the experience all the sweeter!

At the risk of carbo-loading this newsletter, here is more pasta shape news that I found too delicious to pass up! A team working in Carnegie Mellon University’s Morphing Matter Lab has devised a way to “flat pack” pasta — stamping noodles with strategic ridges that allow them to spring up into fancy shapes when boiled. In addition to the cool-factor, these innovative shapes have the potential to minimize packaging and production waste, as well as maximize storage and shipping capabilities.

“The grooves stamped into the flat pasta sheets increase the time it takes water to cook that area of the pasta. By carefully planning where and how to place the grooves, the researchers can control what shape of pasta forms when it is cooked.

‘The groove side expands less than the smooth side, leading the pasta to morph into shape,’ said Teng Zhang, an assistant professor at Syracuse University who led the modeling analysis in this project.

Grooves can be used to control the morphed shape of any swellable material. The team has demonstrated that it can morph silicon sheets using the same groove technique. […]

Traditional pasta already morphs when cooked, expanding and softening when boiled. The team harnessed these natural properties to create its flat-packed product.”

The CMU team co-authored a paper with researchers from Syracuse University and Zhejiang University, from departments as diverse as mechanical engineering and computational fabrication and design. It was published it in Science Advances last month. The team envisions equally wide-ranging applications of this technology — beyond the kitchen, and into soft robotics and medical devices. This is not to say culinary goals are any less noble: the researchers theorize this could even reduce the energy required to cook the pasta, and therefore the user’s carbon footprint. (And we all know we could use help with those.) I’ll top my serving of saving-the-world with a nice marinara and a meatball or two, thank you!

If you’ve ever been to Colorado, chances are you enjoyed gorgeous vistas of the Rockies, as well as the ubiquitous work of local suds masters New Belgium Brewing – they of the famously easy-drinking “Fat Tire” amber ale.

Well, the team at New Belgium have released a new brew that forecasts a terrible future, where neither beautiful nature views nor delicious beer will be on the menu. Their “Torched Earth” ale, crafted in honour of Earth Day 2021, was designed to show what beer will likely taste like when brewers are forced to use what ingredients are left after climate change is done with us. And unlike beer itself, this prophecy is sobering.

“Torched Earth Ale pours a cloudy amber and has a troubling aroma right out of the bottle, not unlike a friend’s first batch of homebrew. The brewers used smoky malt, and sure enough, there are overwhelming notes of forest fire and skunk. One whiff conjures up the mental image of a crying Smokey Bear. The smoky flavor is actually more balanced than expected, though it is overpowering and leaves an unpleasantly dry finish. Shelf-stable hop extract was used instead of fresh hops, and the difference is noticeable: there is a thinness and a staleness to the aftertaste that makes your insides feel polluted. Dandelions were also added because, as anyone with a yard knows, dandelions are an indestructible force of evil and could never be eradicated, even on the surface of the sun. They do not add much in flavor, though, and the end result is a beer that tastes like you left your Fat Tire out at a party and your friends used it as an ashtray.”

This apocalyptic beverage is actually available to buy, though the main reason it was made is to “inspire the 70% of Fortune 500 companies who do not have a real climate plan to make one now – before it’s too late”. All sales proceeds will also go to Protect Our Winters an environmental advocacy organization. All good reasons to invest in the 8-can-minimum purchase – I’d be hard-pressed to think of someone who’d buy all that just to drink it. And that, I believe, is the point! Hopefully, we can change our course before Torched Earth is all we have.

With climate change accelerating, science is tackling more and more problems that I didn’t ever imagine we’d have to. Case in point: arabica coffee (the world’s dominant coffee bean cultivar) thrives on the sides of cool, rainy jungle mountains – among the most environmentally vulnerable landscapes on our planet. But we humans love our joe, so the food tech startup Atomo Coffee is hoping to soften the blow of our eventual java-less future (and buy us time to fix our climate problems) by replicating everyone’s favourite breakfast drug with lower-impact ingredients. Plus, unlike current replacements like chicory “coffee,” this new faux-go juice keeps the all-important caffeine. (Yay!)

“Atomo’s coffeeless coffee is made from upcycled ingredients, e.g. sunflower seed husks and watermelon seeds, which undergo a patented chemical process to yield molecules that mimic the flavor and mouthfeel of the real thing. […]

‘We like to think of ourselves as the Tesla of coffee,’ said [co-founder Jarret] Stopforth, who’s spent the last two decades working in food science and development. [Co-founder Andy] Kleitsch, meanwhile, is a serial entrepreneur and former product manager at Amazon.com Inc. ‘Before Tesla came along, if you wanted a luxurious, powerful vehicle that was detached from diesel and fuel, you had no option,’ Stopforth said. ‘In the same way, before Atomo, if you wanted coffee that wasn’t linked to deforestation, you had no choice. Now you do.’

Atomo’s product is poised to enter a market that is abuzz with plants masquerading as something else. (See our recent article on 3D printed protein alternatives for a peek at what’s out there.) But the dairy and meat industries have pushed back against increasingly popular substitutes – mostly citing legal definitions of the terms “milk” or “meat,” that require products labeled as such to be animal-derived. Luckily for Atomo Coffee, there’s no definition of “coffee” on the legal books; meaning they can advertise their sunflower-and-watermelon-seed concoction as coffee, without backlash from Big Brew.

I’m definitely interested in doing a side-by-side taste test of Atomo’s product, against my rocket fuel of choice. But until it hits our shores, I’ll have to content myself with bean juice the old fashioned way.

This week, the wine world had its horizons broadened a bit more, as news outlets reported on the opening and tasting of one of the bottles of Merlot that spent 14 months on the International Space Station, and arrived back on Earth just this January. (We reported on the journey and landing here.)
 
It was also revealed who the lucky, secret vintner was: The venerable Chateau Pétrus, producer of one of the top Bordeaux, who provided a  dozen bottles of their year-2000 vintage for spaceflight, and subsequent study at the Institute of Vine and Wine Science (ISVV). The tasting involved opening three of those bottles, and was accomplished by a group of experts, including Jane Anson. Anson subsequently reported to CNN:
 
“‘I found there was a difference in both color and aromatics and also in taste […] It just felt a little bit older, a bit more evolved than the wine that had remained on Earth,’ she said, adding that the cosmic wine’s tannins were more evolved and it had a more floral character.

The group of experts tasted the wine alongside another glass of the same variety that had stayed on Earth, before being told which was which.

And Anson concluded that its adventure above the stratosphere added about two to three years’ maturity to the drink.”
 
This past week, Christie’s announced that one of the remaining eight bottles of Pétrus 2000 from the ISS would be sold via its auction services, specially packaged with a twin bottle that stayed on Earth, so the prospective buyer can enjoy a similar compare/contrast tasting experience. As is (unfortunately) typical for most wine-related activities, that taster will have to be ready to drop some serious change: Christie’s anticipates an eventual sale price of £720,000 – or a bananas $1.2 million CAD. (The “regular” price for a bottle of Pétrus 2000 is in the $6000 – $7000 range – and I thought that was high…!)
 
Now that I’ve been definitively priced out of this tasting, I eagerly await news of the scientific analysis of the seven bottles left. What is the process behind the maturation of the wine – was it the zero-G environment, or heck, cosmic radiation? While the chemist in me waits impatiently for the ISVV to run their tests, my wine enthusiast half must remain satisfied with this brief peek into a very lofty (pun intended!) level of connoisseurship.
 

I very rarely caved to the siren song of fish sticks when my kids were young. As far as convenience foods went, we were a decidedly chicken-finger-and-pizza-pocket household. But in these pandemic times, the decidedly retro protein choice is making a resurgence. The “why” is not terribly interesting – fish sticks are, after all, supremely easy to sling onto a pan, bake, and then slide down your throat. But Hakai Magazine is using this opportunity to do a deep dive into the history of the finger food, and show how a wacky mid-century foray into frozen stick entrees (Eggplant! Ham! Lima beans, for god’s sake!) solved a particularly mid-century problem – too efficient technology.

“Stronger diesel engines, bigger boats, and new materials increased catches after the Second World War. Fishers began scooping up more fish than ever before, says [historian Paul] Josephson. To keep them from spoiling, fish were skinned, gutted, deboned, and frozen on board. […]

The fishing industry tried selling the blocks whole, as fishbricks. These were packaged like blocks of ice cream, with the idea that a housewife could chop off however much fish she wanted that day. But supermarkets had little luck selling the unwieldy bricks, and many stores even lacked adequate freezer space to display them.”

So the industry embraced technology further: slicing the fishbricks into smaller, oblong fishbricks, x-raying them to confirm bonelessness, and deep-frying them so quickly that the fish itself remained safely frozen inside.

And then, what Paul Josephson calls “the ocean’s hot dogs” took off, as a no-mess convenience alternative to gutting, scaling, and cooking regular fish. All this despite North Americans’ general distaste for fish, between its flavour (deliberately engineered to be mild in a fish stick) and its reputation as “second best” to meat.

On this last point, fish sticks are poised to enter the future, as their reliance on stable, well-managed species of fish mean their climate-change footprint is remarkably small. Perhaps I will break with longstanding DFC tradition, and sample a stick or two, in honour of the sheer technological wonder!

Living and working in the remote woods has many benefits. But we do miss a couple of things about city life – chief among them dialling up some delivery for dinner after a long day. Not even the thickest-crust pizza would last the schlep to DFC headquarters – but, according to chef Eric Huang, some fried chicken from his pop-up Pecking House in Queens, New York, might!

That’s because Huang has innovated hard in the face of the pandemic, and the subsequent rush on all kinds of takeout – even foods that traditionally can’t withstand a bouncy trip inside a box or bag. Huang’s wheelhouse is one such vittle, fried chicken, which, thanks to a scientifically solid secret ingredient, has turned itself into a hot carryout commodity instead of a sad soggy puddle of oily fowl.

“Huang found his solution in EverCrisp—a modified wheat dextrin (a type of starch found in wheat) from the food science products emporium Modernist Pantry. In most fried foods, as the protein releases its moisture after being fried, the gluten in the flour absorbs it, eventually causing the crust to become soggy. Wheat dextrin, on the other hand, retains less oil. Also, in the manufacturing process for EverCrisp, the gluten is removed. […]
Huang theorizes that this process results in a crust that better sticks to the chicken, by hydrating the flour and therefore creating a ‘uniform, durable substrate for dry starches to adhere to when fried,’ he says. […]
When he was developing his fried chicken, he ordered some EverCrisp and tested out replacing 20 percent of the flour in his dredging mixture with EverCrisp. The results spoke for themselves. ‘People pick it up in Queens and drive it to Connecticut, and it is still crispy,’ Huang says of his fried chicken.”

While Huang’s chicken could hypothetically survive the voyage to our dining room as easily as Connecticut, the waitlist for this golden bird is a staggering eight weeks long. Good for them! Though I might be better off snagging some magical EverCrisp myself and getting resident food scientist David cooking (literally) on a homegrown version… We’ll let you know if DFC opens a pop-up any time soon!

I’m just kicking myself that I didn’t encounter this story until Passover ended. But I definitely can’t hold onto this fascinating archeological news until the next holiday; so please, feel free to imagine your own thematic tie-in here!
 
A team of researchers from the University of Bristol have recently published their findings from an archaeological dig in the medieval Jewish quarter of Oxford, UK, which they began in 2016. They were “blown away” by evidence, in a combination latrine and garbage dump at the site, of the Jewish community’s adherence to kosher dietary laws.
 
Jewish life in Oxford had a narrow window in which to flourish: between 1066, when William the Conqueror specifically invited Jewish merchants from the Continent to settle in England; and 1290 when Edward I expelled the Jewish population due to rising discrimination. While communities were well documented on paper, the Bristol team’s research is especially interesting because it’s the first scientific and physical evidence of specifically Jewish day-to-day life in the ancient city.
 
And the science itself is particularly cool: First, they studied the bones dumped in the pit after meals.
 
“‘Normally you would expect a mixture of cow, sheep, goat and pig,’ [biomolecular archaeologist and team leader Julie Dunne] says. ‘Instead, we found a massive, I mean massive, amount of chicken and goose bones.’

In addition to the bones, the team found more than 2,000 fragments of ceramic cooking vessels. They analyzed organic residue left in the pottery to determine what it had once held.
 
‘This process allows us to distinguish animal fats from ruminants and non-ruminants, as well as from dairy products,’ Dunne tells the Jewish Chronicle. ‘And what we found was astonishingly precise.’

The researchers found no evidence of non-kosher fats, or of milk and meat being cooked together – a practice prohibited by kosher tradition.”

The archeological evidence was also neatly siloed by time – the bird bones and kosher pottery dated to specifically the 11^th and 12^th centuries, while pig bones found nearby were determined to be 9^th century and decidedly Saxon.
 
It is amazing what kind of information surfaces from past cultures’ tell-tale garbage dumps. (We might do well to remember that for ourselves!) I’m fascinated now by how this community’s least valued items have become its most important scientific documentation. Garbage has hidden worth after all!

It’s said that honey has no expiry date; pots uncovered in ancient Egyptian tombs are routinely found to be perfectly edible after thousands of years underground. Would that the same held for another sweet treat, chocolate! If it did, a bar of the stuff recently found in Norfolk, UK would have quite the sugar high to go with its amazing story.
 
This particular goodie was made to cheer troops in the 1899 – 1902 Boer War and was recently found among the mementoes of centenarian Frances Greathead, the daughter of English soldier and baronet Henry Edward Paston-Bedingfield, by the staff of the National Trust. The original packaging and Paston-Bedingfield’s bar itself were completely intact (though unappetizingly dusty), turning this humble snack into a time capsule from 121 years ago! With a decidedly political aftertaste: The half-pound bar came in a tin with Queen Victoria’s portrait on it and included messages from the monarch to her troops engaged in one of the colonial endeavours that marked her long reign. Intrigue followed its production at home as well.
 
“British confectionery giants Cadbury, Fry and Rowntree manufactured chocolate batches in 1900 to boost morale for soldiers fighting in the Second Boer War in South Africa, although it’s not certain which company made this particular tin. […]

[National Trust curator Lynsey] Coombs said Cadbury, Fry and Rowntree initially refused to brand the chocolate because they were pacifist Quakers who opposed the war in South Africa.
Eventually they caved to Queen Victoria’s request and produced 100,000 tins, many of which the soldiers preserved, she added.”
 
And the historical organization will continue to preserve it, reporting it has wrapped the bar in acid-free paper, pending future display along with the helmet and helmet case in which the chocolate was found.
 
It’s in honour of Easter that we bring you this tale of a chocolatey treat, that has experienced its own resurrection of sorts. Here’s hoping the little ones in your life have found all the chocolate the Easter Bunny left this weekend… Something tells me finding a grody old Kinder Egg under the couch in July won’t be as welcome a discovery!

Did you know that the number of Italian pasta shapes out there is estimated to be between 260 and 600? Even the low number came as a shock to me – who can count on two hands the pastas I can remember off the top of my head, and on one hand those I routinely keep in my pantry. (Penne for life!)
 
Well, add one more shape to that mind-boggling tally, as The Sporkful podcast host Dan Pashman has partnered up with artisanal pasta makers Sfoglini to create cascatelli – adorably, “little waterfalls.”
 
The saga is covered in a five-part arc (“Mission: ImPASTAble”) on Pashman’s popular podcast, describing his trip through the pasta design world. Turns out, the seemingly simple food item, quickly cooked, and just as quickly devoured, is not simple at all.
 
“The result of many rounds of designing, engineering, and trial and error, the final product resembles an oversized comma with ruffles on either side of a curved half-tube. It’s supposed to maximize three core qualities: ‘sauceability’ (how well sauce adheres to it), ‘forkability’ (how easily it stays on the fork), and ‘toothsinkability’ (how satisfying it is to sink one’s teeth into it). […]

Long, short, round, flat, ridged, smooth, curved, even angular — if you can picture it, a shape probably already exists. Or if it doesn’t, then there’s a reason why. Turns out that designing a shape that is both original enough to count as its own entity, practical enough to be able to be manufactured at some scale, and tasty enough to even warrant being brought into this world, is not a walk in the park. Sorry to all the would-be inventors whose late-night buzzed idea is ‘just combine, like, a macaroni with a mafaldine.’”
 
Pashman’s cascatelli success (the shape, at least via Sfoglini’s website, is on massive backorder brought back the last time I remembered this happening when French designer Phillipe Starck created a new pasta shape back in the 1980s. Dubbed “mandala,” the deeply ridged tube was buttressed inside by a ying-yang-like crossbeam. But, despite Starck’s considerable qualifications, the shape flopped for a very basic reason – it cooked too unevenly! It seems outsider Pashman’s innovation avoids that particular pitfall; I wonder if cascatelli will stand the test of time, and enter the pasta shape hall of fame?