A few months ago I went through a Wawa and noticed a special display of three new potato chip variations, each with some bizarre flavor (meaning a mélange of Frankensteinian esters that simulate something otherwise quite palatable.) The idea was that you were supposed to buy them and vote for your favorite; the top vote-getter would receive the diadem of shelf space.
I abstained. Besides, it was nowhere near my nadir, which I nailed during New Year’s Eve of 1986. I spent that long-ago evening running an all-night data backup (during the era of nine hour backups and open reel backup tapes) and assuaged my disgust at data incarceration with two bags of Bar B Q Fritos and a six pack of Strawberry Yoo-Hoo. Richard Simmons’ toupee mucilage would have been an improvement.
It’s no secret that foods are engineered to get us to consume as much as possible, playing on as many touchy emotions as possible. I was really surprised recently to discover the degree to which this happens, from controlling the color of containers to the sounds accompanying certain foods, triggering reactions that reach back to infancy.
You can read more from this New Yorker article, which covers both sonic chips and bacon ice cream:
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/11/02/accounting-for-taste
I raise a well-washed carrot in salute!
Best wishes,
Jim Shulman
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