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Food energy is real energy, and it can be measured as such.

About ten years ago I started working out for the first time in my life, and with it, paying attention to the food I put in my body for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I never knew much before that about calories, other than the tired "2000 a day" guideline. I could hardly tell you about macronutrients, or how much protein an active person should get. And so, later in my life, I had quite an education.

But there's still a lot that I don't know, apparently, because it wasn't until very recently that I learned where calories come from; or rather, how they're tallied up for inclusion on a food label. Of course, I am familiar with the idea that you can always count up the different ingredients in a meal and their known nutritional values. For example, if you're baking, it's easy to find out the calories in one cup of flour, a tablespoon of sugar, and so on.

But how are the calories in base foods even calculated? And furthermore, how do we know for sure how much protein, fat, or carbs are in certain foods?

It "blew" my mind when I learned that food scientists have a fascinating process for determining the amount of energy contained in different foods. It involves a strange machine called a "bomb calorimeter."


 food, nutrition, calories, healthy eating, protein, fats, carbs, vitamins, minerals, eating, science, food science An old bomb calorimeter from the 1960sSeth/Flickr

We all know that food gives us energy, but you've likely never thought of food energy in the same terms as the other different forms of energy like lights, heat, electricity, etc. I know I had never thought of it like energy energy.

But that's exactly what it is, and calories are a very specific measure of that energy.

So in order to determine how many calories are in a certain food, ingredient, or meal — get this — scientists literally blow it up and measure the results of the explosion.

How cool is that!?

In the video below, scientists from the Jean Mayer USDA Human Nutrition Research Center on Aging at Tufts University show the fascinating process from start to finish.

In the experiment, the team prepares a Christmas dinner plate of turkey, gravy, and potatoes. The first step to determining the calories in the meal is to "homogenize it" or blend it into smithereens, destroying any large chunks and turning the meal into a smooth, near-liquid. Yum!

"Then, over the course of three days we slowly remove all the moisture from it in a freeze drier," says Dr. Sue Roberts. Imagine turning that gooey slop into something similar to the consistency of astronaut food.

The dried samples are then compressed into extremely dense pellets about the size of a Tums antacid.

Now here comes the Parr 6200 "bomb" calorimeter. The very precisely measured pellet-ized portion of the original dinner is put into a chamber and lowered into some water inside the machine. An electrical charge is then applied to the food to "explode it."

Why the water? The calorimeter is able to measure the exact temperature of the water before and after the food explosion. When you look at the actual definition of a calorie, which according to Merriam-Webster is: "the amount of heat required to raise the temperature of one kilogram of water one degree Celsius," it all starts to make sense. Take the temperature of the water after the explosion and you can determine exactly how much energy was contained in the food pellet based on the temperature increase. Amazing!


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The calorimeter first came about in the 1800s. Even then, our understand of heat, energy, and food science was extremely limited.

As recently as the 1700s, scientists generally believed heat was made of some kind of weightless gas, which they called "caloric."

The theory was disproven in 1799 when Sir Humphrey Davy, an English chemist, rubbed two pieces of ice together in a vacuum (which contains no air or gas) and was able to generate friction heat, thus melting the ice. It was roughly around the same time that Antoine Lavoisier and Pierre Simon de la Place developed the first calorimeter.

Calorimeters, and the Calorie itself, weren't regularly used for food until the late 1800s.

As cool as it is (and it is extremely cool) exploding food in a bomb calorimeter isn't the most common practice today.

Frankly, it's usually not necessary when you can estimate nutritional values in other ways. More common today is the Atwater System, which estimates calories based on the nutritional breakdown of a food item as such:

  • Four kcals (calories) for one gram of protein
  • Four kcals for one gram of carbohydrates
  • Nine kcals for one gram of fat
  • Seven kcals for one gram of alcohol
All of these elements can be tested and measured in different, fascinating ways. Protein is counted by measuring the nitrogen released from food after putting it through some an artificial digestive process. Fats are measured by weighing the food, then stripping the fats away with ether, and weighing it again.

Carbs are the most complicated and thus are often measured by subtracting the percentage of proteins and fats. The remainders, by definition, should be carbohydrates.

 food, nutrition, calories, healthy eating, protein, fats, carbs, vitamins, minerals, eating, science, food science This food is on FIRE!  Giphy  

And, of course, bomb calorimeters have lots of different uses besides determining the calories in the newest line of flavored Doritos. They can be used to test the energy potential of alternative fuels, find more efficient animal feeds, and analyze samples of oil or coal for their potency.

Understanding this process kind of changes the way I look at food. You can't really see the energy in a bag of chips, let's say, but maybe you can imagine the way it might heat a pot of water if it exploded! It makes the numbers on the back of a nutritional label a little more tangible and real, and can maybe lead to more mindful and intuitive eating practices.

Ultimately, though, there is so much more to food than the calories it contains. There are the nutrients, like the proteins, carbs, and fats — the micronutrients like vitamins and minerals that our bodies need. Some people like to know as little as possible about the inner workings of our food and focus purely on their enjoyment of the making, eating, and sharing. But if you're like me, you like to know the science behind food production, and how and why food powers our bodies the way it does. That's all part of the fun.

Love Stories

Researchers have been secretly studying who gets "the ick" and what it might say about you

"The ick" has been around for ages but never measured and analyzed. Until now.

Canva Photos

The ick: A sudden revulsion to a romantic partner over trivial behavior.

The first time I heard of "the ick" came from watching the hit Netflix show Nobody Wants This. In the show, Kristen Bell's character suddenly develops the ick for Adam Brody's character (whom she's dating) after a series of relatively minor faux pas as he's trying to impress her parents. He wears a cheesy sports coat and makes one-too-many corny jokes, to be precise. She suddenly finds herself repulsed by him, and insists that no one has "ever come back from the ick."

Adam Brody's character eventually wins her back over with an impressive display of emotional maturity, but it was a fascinating sequence nonetheless. It brought the term to the attention of a lot of viewers and catapulted it even higher into the zeitgeist.

A new study in the journal Personality and Individual Differences aims to shed light on this phenomenon, and the people who experience it.


dating, relationships, break ups, divorce, the ick, dating studyThe Ick even made it to JeopardyGiphy

For starters, let's define "the ick," or rather, let the authors of the study do it:

"The 'ick' 'is a sudden and visceral aversion to a romantic partner, often triggered by behaviors or characteristics that superficially signal incompatibility or low mate quality."

In other words, it's when a person says or does something that really skeeves you out or turns you off. It sounds a little silly, but the ick can be extremely powerful and tough for people to shake. That's because, as the authors note, whatever the behavior is that icked you out might signal that you're not a good match for this person, or that they're just a low quality partner in general. So in a sense, it's an evolutionary protection mechanism.

It seems extremely harsh that our bodies would be trained to reject partners at the slightest misstep, but in evolutionary terms, it makes a lot of sense:

"A false-positive error—accepting an incompatible partner—can drain resources, reduce reproductive success, and carry long-term relational consequences, whereas a false-negative error—rejecting a compatible partner—results in a missed opportunity but poses fewer immediate risks," the study says.

So if the guy you were into shows up in a fedora one day, it's probably best to show him the door posthaste. Better safe than sorry.

What causes the ick?


- YouTubewww.youtube.com

It's usually brought on by things that, on the surface, seem pretty unimportant. We're not talking about cheating, emotional abuse, or being a bad person. It's much subtler than that. The researchers use lots of examples from TV to make their point:

"In Seinfeld ... Jerry is disgusted by his date's 'manly' hands; and in Sex and the City ... Carrie is revolted by a lover after learning he wrote her a love song."

But where the actual studying part of the study comes in is that the authors began inhaling TikTok videos where users discussed their experiences getting the ick, and they began rigorously categorizing the responses.

The real-life examples are even more nit-picky, like someone who licks their fingers before turning a page. Girls "tripping in public." A guy wearing jorts, or bending over too far and accidentally showing his butt crack. Or, in Adam Brody's case, wearing a sports coat. In many cases these simple (and hilarious!) things are death knells for a relationship once the ick sets in.

The researchers broke ick-inducing behaviors down into a few buckets: Gender incongruence, public embarrassment, or physical appearance. Believe it or not, physical appearance was not the most common! Gender incongruence — guys doing girly things, girls doing manly things — was the biggest category of ick-driving behavior. One girl said the guy she was dating gave her "the ick" when he laid his head on her shoulder affectionately.

Wow...

What getting "the ick" might say about you

disgust, inside out, the ick, dating, relationships, break ups, studies, scientific researchPrime candidate for The IckGiphy

The next part of the study involved recruiting participants who were willing to answer questions about their own experiences with this phenomenon. After thorough interviews, researchers narrowed down three traits that seem to indicate people are more likely to get "the ick,":

Narcissism. People who like to be the center of attention or otherwise display narcissistic tendencies were highly correlated in this study.

Perfectionism. Not perfectionism of the self, mind you! But people who scored highly on questions related to holding the people around them to exceptionally high standards were more prone to "the ick."

Disgust sensitivity. People were more likely to have experienced "the ick" if they answered strongly on questions relating to feeling disgust even outside of a dating or interpersonal sense. People who get exceptionally grossed out by disgusting things are more likely to experience revulsion at minor behaviors in a romantic partner.

Any of those things sound like you? If you're feeling judged, don't. Remember, getting icked-out by a partner isn't necessarily a bad thing. It could be an evolutionary response trying to protect you from making a bad choice (like having a baby with a weirdo). Though it's also important to remember this biological strategy also discards a lot of potentially great partners, so listen to your ick wisely — you might just want to give fedora guy another chance, after all.

Students

A study has been following 'gifted' kids for over 50 years. Here's what we've learned.

Some of what we thought about gifted students turned out to be very wrong.

What can we learn from letting seventh graders take the SAT?

In the 1960s, psychologist Julian Stanley realized that if you took the best-testing seventh graders from around the country and gave them standard college entry exams, those kids would score, on average, about as well as the typical college-bound high school senior. However, the seventh graders who scored as well or better than high schoolers, Stanley found, had off-the-charts aptitude in quantitative, logical, and spatial reasoning. In other words, they were gifted.

In the 1970s, Stanley and his team launched a full-scale study, identifying many of America's gifted kids and tracking them throughout their lives.

The study, called the Study of Mathematically Precocious Youth never ended and is now more than 50 years in the making. It has followed countless kids from middle school into their careers as some of America's top politicians, scientists, CEOs, engineers, and military leaders. Needless to say, a lot has changed with how students are today compared to 50 years ago.

Stanley passed away in the mid-2000s, but psychologist David Lubinski helped bring the study to Vanderbilt University in the 1990s, where he now co-directs it with Camilla P. Benhow.

It's not a stretch to call this the biggest and most in-depth study on intellectual "precociousness." The results of the study thus far are equal parts fascinating and genuinely surprising — a deeply insightful look into the minds and lives of brilliant children.

woman standing in front of children Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash



1. Some of what we used to think about gifted kids turned out to be wrong.

Ever heard the saying "early to ripe, early to rot"? It basically means doing "too much" to foster a kid's special talents and abilities at too young an age could actually cause harm in the long term.

That's not even remotely true, at least not according to Lubinski.

That might be an outdated example. But Lubinksi says there are plenty of other misconceptions still alive today, like the idea that gifted kids are so smart that they'll "find a way" to excel even if those smarts aren't nurtured and developed.

Not so fast. "They're kids," he explains. "They need guidance. We all need guidance."

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2. Intelligence is not the same as passion.

Quick, what's the "smartest" career you can think of. Doctor? Scientist?

While you do have to be pretty brilliant to work in medicine or science, those are far from the only career paths gifted kids choose later in life.

"Quantitatively, gifted people vary widely in their passions," Lubinski says. Many of the students in the study did end up pursuing medicine, but others went into fields like economics or engineering. Others still were more gifted in areas like logical or verbal reasoning, making them excellent lawyers and writers.

"There are all kinds of ways to express intellectual talent," Lubinski explains.

When it comes to doing what's best for a gifted student, it's just as important for parents and educators to know what the student is passionate about rather than pigeonholing them in traditionally "smart" fields and registering them in a bunch of STEM courses.

three people sitting in front of table laughing together Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

3. Hard work definitely still matters.

Measuring a student's aptitude, their natural abilities, is only one part of the equation when it comes to determining how successful they'll be in life. Aptitude scores can identify a particularly strong natural skill set but tell us very little about how hard that person might work to excel in that field.

Effort, Lubinski says, is a critical factor in determining how far someone's going to go in life. "If you look at exceptional performers in politics, science, music, and literature, they're working many, many hours," he says.

(And for the record, there are a lot more important things in life than just career achievement, like family, friends, and overall happiness.)

selective focus photography of jolly woman using peace hand gesture Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

4. Regardless of aptitude, every kid deserves to be treated as though they were gifted.

The study's focus is specifically on kids within a certain range of intellectual ability, but Lubinski is careful to note that many of its findings can and should be applied to all students.

For example, the kids in the study who were given an opportunity to take more challenging courses that aligned with their skills and interests ultimately went on to accomplish more than the students who were not afforded the same opportunity.

"You have to find out where your child's development is, how fast they learn, what are their strengths and relative weaknesses and tailor the curriculum accordingly," Lubinski says. "It's what you would want for all kids."

It may sound a bit like a pipe dream, but it's a great starting point for how we should be thinking about the future of education in America.

This article originally appeared eight years ago.

Science

A juice company dumped orange peels in a national park. Here's what it looks like now.

12,000 tons of food waste and 21 years later, this forest looks totally different.

In 1997, ecologists Daniel Janzen and Winnie Hallwachs approached an orange juice company in Costa Rica with an off-the-wall idea. In exchange for donating a portion of unspoiled, forested land to the Área de Conservación Guanacaste — a nature preserve in the country's northwest — the park would allow the company to dump its discarded orange peels and pulp, free of charge, in a heavily grazed, largely deforested area nearby.

One year later, one thousand trucks poured into the national park, offloading over 12,000 metric tons of sticky, mealy, orange compost onto the worn-out plot. The site was left untouched and largely unexamined for over a decade. A sign was placed to ensure future researchers could locate and study it.


16 years later, Janzen dispatched graduate student Timothy Treuer to look for the site where the food waste was dumped.

Treuer initially set out to locate the large placard that marked the plot — and failed.

The first deposit of orange peels in 1996.

Photo by Dan Janzen.

"It's a huge sign, bright yellow lettering. We should have been able to see it," Treuer says. After wandering around for half an hour with no luck, he consulted Janzen, who gave him more detailed instructions on how to find the plot.

When he returned a week later and confirmed he was in the right place, Treuer was floored. Compared to the adjacent barren former pastureland, the site of the food waste deposit was "like night and day."

The site of the orange peel deposit (L) and adjacent pastureland (R).

Photo by Leland Werden.

"It was just hard to believe that the only difference between the two areas was a bunch of orange peels. They look like completely different ecosystems," he explains.

The area was so thick with vegetation he still could not find the sign.

Treuer and a team of researchers from Princeton University studied the site over the course of the following three years.

The results, published in the journal "Restoration Ecology," highlight just how completely the discarded fruit parts assisted the area's turnaround.

The ecologists measured various qualities of the site against an area of former pastureland immediately across the access road used to dump the orange peels two decades prior. Compared to the adjacent plot, which was dominated by a single species of tree, the site of the orange peel deposit featured two dozen species of vegetation, most thriving.

Lab technician Erik Schilling explores the newly overgrown orange peel plot.

Photo by Tim Treuer.

In addition to greater biodiversity, richer soil, and a better-developed canopy, researchers discovered a tayra (a dog-sized weasel) and a giant fig tree three feet in diameter, on the plot.

"You could have had 20 people climbing in that tree at once and it would have supported the weight no problem," says Jon Choi, co-author of the paper, who conducted much of the soil analysis. "That thing was massive."

Recent evidence suggests that secondary tropical forests — those that grow after the original inhabitants are torn down — are essential to helping slow climate change.

In a 2016 study published in Nature, researchers found that such forests absorb and store atmospheric carbon at roughly 11 times the rate of old-growth forests.

Treuer believes better management of discarded produce — like orange peels — could be key to helping these forests regrow.

In many parts of the world, rates of deforestation are increasing dramatically, sapping local soil of much-needed nutrients and, with them, the ability of ecosystems to restore themselves.

Meanwhile, much of the world is awash in nutrient-rich food waste. In the United States, up to half of all produce in the United States is discarded. Most currently ends up in landfills.

The site after a deposit of orange peels in 1998.

Photo by Dan Janzen.

"We don't want companies to go out there will-nilly just dumping their waste all over the place, but if it's scientifically driven and restorationists are involved in addition to companies, this is something I think has really high potential," Treuer says.

The next step, he believes, is to examine whether other ecosystems — dry forests, cloud forests, tropical savannas — react the same way to similar deposits.

Two years after his initial survey, Treuer returned to once again try to locate the sign marking the site.

Since his first scouting mission in 2013, Treuer had visited the plot more than 15 times. Choi had visited more than 50. Neither had spotted the original sign.

In 2015, when Treuer, with the help of the paper's senior author, David Wilcove, and Princeton Professor Rob Pringle, finally found it under a thicket of vines, the scope of the area's transformation became truly clear.

The sign after clearing away the vines.

Photo by Tim Treuer.

"It's a big honking sign," Choi emphasizes.

19 years of waiting with crossed fingers had buried it, thanks to two scientists, a flash of inspiration, and the rind of an unassuming fruit.


This article originally appeared eight years ago.