Bookmark aromas

At 3 o’clock almost every afternoon since I was three, the smell of rice cakes passes in my memory. Most times, it is fleeting but sometimes, especially when reinforced by other components of memory, I would even visualize Lola Ina, faithfully making rice cakes in her clay oven by her porch, only her side view visible to me and even rendered more mysterious by the partial cover of the bougainvillea vine growing from my uncle’s lot. This is not surprising since the memory provoked by smell is known scientifically to be one that sticks to you more tenaciously than any other sensory memory. It also works the other way. Remember times when a deluge of childhood memories came announced to you only by a faint smell of a flower you used to brush against at play with your cousins then or your grandma’s perfume while she sat on the piano or even the smell of the dog at the foot of the outdoor stairs of the relative you dreaded to visit? Aromas do bookmark your past.

What science has found out so far about the human sense of smell is that it is by far the most sensitive of all our senses. It can detect a specific smell present in quantities amounting to only a miniscule part per trillion. This is how I have come to understand partially anyway, why fast-food chains have become so popular and thus profitable. Since their inception in the country in the scale such as that of McDonald’s or Jollibee sometime in the 80s, teens grew up around the smells of these chains, associating them with pleasant family "outings" that do not have to cost so much. These teens then are now parents themselves with early teens of their own and with this, not only the gene is perpetuated but the reinforced associations of fast-food smells are also passed as well. I leave the readers to judge and decide for themselves the pros and cons of imbibing and passing on a fast-food habit. This science column only aims to dispel certain myths about manufactured food (which includes their ingredients) in order to inform your decision.

Much as food manufacturers make you want to believe that their grandma or some wise culinary sage founded the recipe you now line up for or fill your grocery cart with, it is in all likelihood, a product of experiment. "Natural flavor" does not necessarily always mean that smoked meat was really smoked in a quaint old wooden smoking house. It may mean that the snack chips manufacturer purchased natural "smoke" that another company literally trapped in a bottle for use as flavoring. Science writer Eric Schlosser wrote an article called "Why McDonald’s Fries Taste So Good" for The Atlantic Monthly (January 2001) after he visited the International Flavors and Fragrances, the mecca of potions and elixirs that conjure tastes, smells and aromas located in well, New Jersey. It is the largest flavor company in the world. He found out that most of the things we eat now have been largely crafted by design. For instance, the luring smell of burgers being flipped at an outdoor grill need not necessarily come from the actual culinary process but from a "flavoring" that is now known to produce that smell concocted by scientists who go by the tradename "flavorists." A tiny drop of this "flipping burning burger" flavoring on a strip of paper set Schlosser off suspecting and wishing for the presence of burgers while he was blindfolded. Schlosser found these "flavorists" to belong to a league akin to that of wine connoisseurs as these men-in-white can come up with descriptions that pin the quality of smell to its molecular parts. It is also a trade shrouded in secrecy to protect the formula of flavors associated with food chains we patronize.

Also, bugs in your juice or ice cream? Yes, of course. Most manufactured foods with flavors associated with the colors pink, purple or red will most likely contain carminic acid. Carminic acid, as Schlosser found out, has its origins from a bug found in Peru or the Canary Islands. Named Dactilopus coccus Costa, it is a bug that fancies and nourishes itself with red cactus berries that store in the females and their larvae that never came to be. These bugs are dehydrated and then ground to produce the pigment used widely in juices, yogurts and candies.

Patrick Suskind’s novel "Perfume" paints a powerful but sad character of a man whose desire is ignited as well as satisfied by smelling the object of his desire, but not without destroying and killing it. I guess metaphorically, this is what "essence" means. That in the absence of essence, we "die a little." The other side of this is that the recurrence of smell, even without the physical embodiment or re-enactment of the scene which gave birth to it, enables us to live and connect with our own history.

I personally have no problem foreseeing a future where we will end up just extracting essences in droplets from blown glass in order to feed ourselves. It will only disturb me if it will also mean doing away with enjoying the sense of smell and taste with excellent company. Nobody can ever take away the memory of a family member recently grilling steak for dinner as its smell filled the house. Sitting with her, telling stories, taking in the burnt smell of a 21-day aged piece of steak is now forever smoked in my memory. That when I do not even eat steak myself and did not even have a morsel of it.