ETN 203: What if I told you ...
Hello
Some stories are too good to be true; these are not, I hope, those.
Gelato Blues
“Precisely the opposite of what we now know to be true,” says one of the doctors, explaining the changes in nutritional science that took place while Woody Allen was asleep in Sleeper. Played straight, it was hard not to laugh then. And now? What if I told you ice cream was really good for you?
Nutrition Science’s Most Preposterous Result, in The Atlantic, offers a deep dive into a very interesting research result: “Among diabetics, eating half a cup of ice cream a day was associated with a lower risk of heart problems.” That result was in a PhD dissertation in 2018, but it was nothing new. David Merritt Johns discovers that similar findings have been around 20 years or more, and that for reasons best known to itself, mainstream nutritional science has never given them the attention they deserve. Mainstream media seem to be doing the same to Johns’ article.
Definitely an eye-opener.
Genuinely Artificial
The idea that artificial = bad has been around a lot longer than I thought, but it wasn’t always (or ever?) true. Virginia Postrel wrote a great newsletter article that takes apart an old story; when refrigeration was invented in America in the 1850s, it threatened the business of ice harvested from lakes and ponds in New England and shipped as far afield as Britain. So a fearful ice baron launched a campaign against artificial ice claiming, among other calumnies, that fake ice “was likely to carry disease”. The story is that the campaign was such a success that the inventor of refrigeration died broke, unable to sell his machines.
“The claim that public suspicion fed by natural-ice magnates seriously hindered artificial ice is simply wrong,” Postrel writes. The real problem was that artificial ice was much too expensive when first launched. As it became cheaper, artificial ice quickly took over.
Natural ice wasn’t deemed authentic or superior. It was “clumsy and antiquated.” Far from an insult, calling ice “artificial” made it more desirable to consumers. … To our 19th-century ancestors “nature” was a source of peril rather than purity. That we’re quick to believe they found the label artificial off-putting says more about our culture than about theirs.
G-man, Honey
When something new from Tom Nealon pops up in my feed reader, a little bit like the green chile he focused on this time, it is guaranteed to add zest to my day. In case you don’t know, Tom lately started compiling a Condiment Abecedarium that has just reached G. (Actually, it has reached H, hot honey, but that one has not yet reached my reader.) The whole thing is a delightful read that I unreservedly recommend.
Goat Rodeo Redux
Have you been following the story of Cedar the goat? Quick synopsis: Girl raises goat as a 4-H project. Goat is up for auction (and ultimate slaughter) at County Fair. Girl pleads for goat’s life and is refused, so withdraws goat from auction. Nevertheless, Republican Senator buys goat for well over the odds. Before he can take possession, girl and her mother remove goat. County sheriffs drive 500 miles to seize the goat and take him to be slaughtered. Girl’s mother sues county.
It is a glorious story, and the most interesting take I saw on it was an article in Vox by Gabe Rosenberg and Jan Dutkiewicz that used poor Cedar’s plight to shine a light on “the ideology of 4-H”. The core of their argument is that “livestock production teaches kids mercilessness”. People like me, who have only a vague understanding of what the whole 4-H thing is about ("head, heart, hands, and health") will welcome some of the historical detail, but there’s much, much more.
Perhaps the county’s brutal response to a single girl’s act of mercy came in part because she reminded the adults around her that they were not metaphysically bound to cruelty to animals; they could choose mercy, but chose not to. One child’s torch-bright act of conscience illuminated the willingness of adults around her to substitute the brittle formalisms of market logic, economic exchange, and contract for the operation of ethical reflection, a kind of moral torpor without which modern animal agriculture would be impossible.
Veg*nism is one possible response, though I happen to believe it is not that good an answer. And I am well aware that “a good life and a good death” is fraught with difficulties. I still think it is possible to be merciful, to avoid cruelty, and yet eat animals. I wish I knew what Cedar’s brave carer feels about that.
Gosh but I Love the Internet
Back in 2015, I got myself into a self-indulgent lather over an Economist article that referred to “kombucha, an umami-rich infusion of kelp”. That same day came a comment setting me straight, at least as far as the transliteration of the kelp infusion. And now, a mere 2993 days later, comes an additional explanation that adds further detail.
Now, since the English word ‘kombucha’ doesn’t seem to be a plausible loanword from any other language besides Japanese, I agree with the several dictionaries that state it’s likely a misloan. Somehow, the name of Japanese kelp tea was misapplied to the fermented beverage we call ‘kombucha,’ and the name stuck. It probably sounded mysterious and Asian and hip, so it fit the bill. It does sometimes confuse the heck out of Japanese people who order ‘kombucha’ when traveling abroad, however.
Definitely plausible, but if anyone has any better information, I’d love to hear about it. In the meantime, I’m wondering whether the kelp infusion might be a portmanteau of kombu kelp and cha tea? Possible? Ludicrous? Stick to my knitting?
Take care
