Book Excerpt: flavors of the food we eat, from Fast Food
Nation
Much attention is given to Fast Food Nation in
regard to its coverage of the problems with the food served in fast food
restaurants (such as safety and quality), but I hear little about a very
interesting section of the book that talks about the flavoring of food. One of
the most interesting things to me was that natural flavors may actually be more
toxic than artificial flavors.
THE FLAVORS OF
THE FOOD WE EAT
from
Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the American Meal by Eric
Schlosser
One of the most fascinating things I learned in the book Fast Food Nation was
about the flavors of the food we eat. Nearly all the taste and smell sensations
we experience in processed food comes from New Jersey, no matter where the food
itself was processed. In New Jersey are the plants that manufacture the flavors
and smells we experience, not only the smells in food but also in health &
beauty products and cleaning
products.
How important are aromas
to our sense of taste? I always knew there was something to this, as you realize
that when your nose is stopped up, food doesn't taste as good. But I didn't
realize how important smell was to taste until I read chapter five of Fast Food
Nation. The following section is directly quoted from the
chapter.
=====================================================
The aroma of our food can be responsible for as much as 90% of its flavor. ...
The taste buds on our tongues can detect the presence of half a dozen or so
basic tastes, including: sweet, sour, bitter, salty, astringent, and umami (a
taste discovered by Japanese researchers, a rich and full sense of deliciousness
triggered by amino acids and foods such as shellfish, mushrooms, potatoes, and
seaweed). Taste buds offer a relatively limited means of detection, however,
compared to the human olfactory system, which can perceive thousands of
different chemical aromas. Indeed, "flavor" is primarily the smell of gases
being released by the chemicals you've just put in your
mouth.
...
The quality that
people seek most of all in a food, its flavor, is usually present in a quantity
too infinitesimal to be measured by any traditional culinary terms such as
ounces or teaspoons. Today's sophisticated spectrometers, gas chromatographs,
and headspace vapor analyzers provide a detailed map of a food's flavor
components detecting chemical aromas in amounts as low as one part per billion.
The human nose, however, is still more sensitive than any machine yet invented.
A nose can detect aromas present in quantities of a few parts per trillion--an
amount equivalent to 0.000000000003%. Complex aromas like those of coffee or
roasted meat may be composed of volatile gases from nearly a thousand different
chemicals. The smell of a strawberry arises from the interaction of at least 350
different chemicals that are present in minute amounts. The chemical that
provides the dominant flavor of bell pepper can be tasted in amounts as low as
.02 parts per billion; one drop is sufficient to add flavor to five average-size
swimming pools. The flavor additive usually comes last or second to last in a
processed food's list of ingredients (chemicals that add color are frequently
used in even smaller amounts). As a result, the flavor of a processed food often
costs less than its packaging. Soft drinks contain a larger proportion of flavor
additives than most products. The flavor in a 12-ounce can of Coke costs about
half a
cent.
=====================================================
Another thing I found fascinating was how natural and artificial flavors are
made...read
on.
======================================================
The 1960s were the heyday of
artificial flavors. The synthetic versions of flavor compounds were not subtle,
but they didn't need to be given the nature of most processed food. For the past
20 years, food processors have tried hard to use only "natural flavors" in their
products. According to the FDA, these must be derived entirely from natural
sources--from herbs, spices, fruits, vegetables, beef, chicken, yeast, bark,
roots, etc. Consumers prefer to see natural flavors on a label out of a belief
that they are healthier. The distinction between artificial and natural flavors
can be somewhat arbitrary and absurd, based more on how the flavor has been made
than on what it actually contains. "A natural flavor," says Terry Acree, a
professor of Food Science Technology at Cornell University, "is a flavor that's
been derived with an out-of-date technology." Natural flavors and artificial
flavors sometimes contain exactly the same chemicals produced through different
methods. Amyl acetate, for example, provides the dominant note of banana flavor.
When you distill it from bananas with a solvent, amyl acetate is a natural
flavor. When you produce it by mixing vinegar with amyl alcohol, adding sulfuric
acid as a catalyst, amyl acetate is an artificial flavor. Either way it smells
and tastes the same. The phrase "natural flavor" is now listed among the
ingredients of everything from Stony Field Farm organic strawberry yogurt to
Taco Bell hot taco
sauce.
A natural flavor
is not necessarily healthier or purer than an artificial one. When almond flavor
(benzaldehyde) is derived from natural sources, such as peach and apricot pits,
it contains traces of hydrogen cyanide, a deadly poison. Benzaldehyde derived
through a different process--by mixing oil of clove and the banana flavor, amyl
acetate--does not contain any cyanide. Nevertheless, it is legally considered an
artificial flavor and sells at a much lower price. Natural and artificial
flavors are now manufactured at the same chemical plants, places that few people
would associate with Mother Nature. Calling any of these flavors "natural"
requires a flexible attitude toward the English language and a fair amount of
irony.
The small and
elite group of scientists who create most of the flavor in most of the food now
consumed in the United States are called "flavorists." They draw upon a number
of disciplines in their work: biology, psychology, physiology, and organic
chemistry. A flavorist is a chemist with a trained nose and a poetic
sensibility. Flavors are created by blending scores of different chemicals in
tiny amounts, a process governed by scientific priniciples but demanding a fair
amount of art. In an age when delicate aromas, subtle flavors, and microwave
ovens do not easily co-exist, the job of the flavorist is to conjure illusions
about processed food and, in the words of one flavor company's literature, to
ensure "consumer likability." The flavorists with whom I spoke were charming,
cosmopolitan, and ironic. They were also discreet, in keeping with the dictates
of their trade. They were the sort of scientist who not only enjoyed fine wine,
but could also tell you the chemicals that gave each vintage its unique aroma.
One flavorist compared his work to composing music. A well-made flavor compound
will have a "top note," followed by a "dry-down," and a "leveling-off" with
different chemicals responsible for each stage. The taste of a food can be
radically altered by minute changes in the flavoring mix. "A little odor goes a
long way," one flavorist
said.
In order to give
a processed food the proper taste, a flavorist must always consider the food's
"mouthfeel"--the unique combination of textures and chemical interactions that
affects how the flavor is perceived. The mouthfeel can be adjusted through the
use of various fats, gums, starches, emulsifiers, and stabilizers. The aroma
chemicals of a food can be precisely analyzed but mouthfeel is much harder to
measure. How does one quantify a french fry's crispness? Food technologists are
now conducting basic research in rheology, a branch of physics that examines the
flow and deformation of materials. A number of companies sell sophisticated
devices that attempt to measure mouthfeel. The Universal TA-XT2 Texture Analyzer
produced by the Texture Technologies Corporation performs calculations based on
data derived from 25 separate probes. It is essentially a mechanical mouth. It
gauges the most important rheological properties of a food--the bounce, creep,
breaking point, density, crunchiness, chewiness, gumminess, lumpiness,
rubberiness, springiness, slipperiness, smoothness, softness, wetness,
juiciness, spreadability, springback,
tackiness.
...
In a meeting room
at IFF, Brian Granger let me sample some of the company's flavors. It was an
unusual taste test; there wasn't any food to taste. Granger is a senior
flavorist at IFF, a soft-spoken chemist with graying hair, an English accent,
and a fondness for understatement. He could easily be mistaken for a British
diplomat or the owner of a west end brasserie with two Michelin stars. Like many
in the flavor industry, he has an old world, old-fashioned sensibility, which
seems out of step with our brand-conscious, ego-centric age. When I suggested
that IFF should put its own logo on the products that contain its
flavors--instead of allowing other brands to enjoy the consumer loyalty and
affection inspired by those flavors--Granger politely disagreed, assuring me
such a thing would never be done. In the absence of public credit or acclaim,
the small and secretive fraternity of flavor chemists praises one another's
work. Granger can often tell by analyzing the flavor formula of a product which
of his counterparts at a rival firm devised it. And he enjoys walking down
supermarket aisles looking at the many products that contain his flavors even if
no one else no knows
it.
Granger had brought
a dozen small glass bottles from the lab. After he opened each bottle, I dipped
a fragrance-testing filter into it. The filters were long, white strips of paper
designed to absorb aroma chemicals without producing off-notes. Before placing
the strips of paper before my nose, I closed my eyes. Then, I inhaled deeply and
one food after another was conjured from the glass bottles. I smelled fresh
cherries, black olives, sauteed onions, and shrimp. Granger's most remarkable
creation took me by surprise. After closing my eyes, I suddenly smelled a
grilled hamburger. The aroma was uncanny, almost miraculous. It smelled like
someone in the room was flipping burgers on a hot grill. But when I opened my
eyes, there was just a narrow strip of white paper and a smiling
flavorist.
===============================================================
There
are 48 chemicals in the artificial strawberry flavoring of the milkshakes used
in Burger King--the paragraph in the book listed each one. Incredible! But
what's even more incredible to me is that artificial flavors can have the same
chemical ingredients as natural flavors and in fact may be safer than natural
flavors! So no longer do I care whether a label says "artificial flavors" or
"natural flavors," now that I know how our flavors are made. This was a very
enlightening chapter in the book Fast Food Nation.
Posted: Fri - July 20, 2001 at 07:09 PM