Flavor Added: the Sciences of Flavor and the Industrialization of Taste in America
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University of Pennsylvania ScholarlyCommons Publicly Accessible Penn Dissertations 2017 Flavor Added: The Sciences Of Flavor And The Industrialization Of Taste In America Nadia Berenstein University of Pennsylvania, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: https://repository.upenn.edu/edissertations Part of the Food Science Commons, and the History Commons Recommended Citation Berenstein, Nadia, "Flavor Added: The Sciences Of Flavor And The Industrialization Of Taste In America" (2017). Publicly Accessible Penn Dissertations. 2715. https://repository.upenn.edu/edissertations/2715 This paper is posted at ScholarlyCommons. https://repository.upenn.edu/edissertations/2715 For more information, please contact [email protected]. Flavor Added: The Sciences Of Flavor And The Industrialization Of Taste In America Abstract In the mid-nineteenth century, flavor additives - volatile organic chemicals with desirable aromatic qualities - began to be used to flavor sugary confections, carbonated beverages, and other mass- marketed delights. By the mid-twentieth century, added flavors had become ubiquitous in processed, packaged foods; a sophisticated, technoscientific, and globe-spanning industry had emerged that specialized in their production. Drawing on history of science and technology, business history, and cultural history, "Flavor Added" investigates the history of synthetic flavor additives, the systems of scientific and technical knowledge that emerged to create these substances, and their social and cultural consequences. Focusing primarily on the United States, "Flavor Added" traces the origins and development of both flavor chemistry and sensory science, illuminating their entangled roots in private industry, regulatory laboratories, USDA research experiment stations, the US military, and academic institutions. Several chapters take on the technologies and tools of flavor creation, including the taste panel, the flavor profile, and the combined gas chromatograph-mass spectrometer. This dissertation also documents the professional history of flavorists, the highly specialized scientific craft-workers who develop and design flavor additives. Degree Type Dissertation Degree Name Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) Graduate Group History and Sociology of Science First Advisor John Tresch Keywords Flavor Additives, Flavor Chemistry, Flavor industry, Food Industrialization, Food Technology, Sensory Science Subject Categories Food Science | History This dissertation is available at ScholarlyCommons: https://repository.upenn.edu/edissertations/2715 FLAVOR ADDED: THE SCIENCES OF FLAVOR AND THE INDUSTRIALIZATION OF TASTE IN AMERICA Nadia Berenstein A DISSERTATION in History and Sociology of Science Presented to the Faculties of the University of Pennsylvania in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy 2018 Supervisor of Dissertation John Tresch Associate Professor, History and Sociology of Science, University of Pennsylvania Graduate Group Chairperson Beth Linker Associate Professor, History and Sociology of Science, University of Pennsylvania Dissertation Committee John Tresch, Associate Professor, History and Sociology of Science, University of Pennsylania Adelheid Voskuhl, Associate Professor, History and Sociology of Science, University of Pennsylvania Steven Shapin, Franklin L. Ford Research Professor in the History of Science, Harvard University FLAVOR ADDED: THE SCIENCES OF FLAVOR AND THE INDUSTRIALIZATION OF TASTE IN AMERICA COPYRIGHT 2018 NADIA BERENSTEIN This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution- NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/ ACKNOWLEDGMENTS While I was in the thick of writing this thing, I’ll admit I was pretty miserable. How does anyone do this? I was desperate for clues. I developed the habit of closely reading the acknowledgements sections of other dissertations, hoping that somehow in the gratitude-chains and the naming-names, the alchemical formula, the one weird trick for a done dissertation, would rise shimmering and present itself to me. So my first acknowledgment here is to you, reader, and to those among you who approach the thankless task of reading a turgid, tumultuous dissertation through the rockiest of roads, the acknowledgements section, and especially to graduate students or other thinkers, writers, artists who are puzzling over not only a particular set of questions relating to flavor and its role in our sensual lives, but also, perhaps, struggling with how to write about this, or anything, at all. Ultimately, I don’t really know how it happened, getting to the end. The whole thing was a mess, a disaster, pages and pages of unmoored maunderings. “There’s no train of thought here,” I kept saying to myself, scrolling through the damage on Microsoft Word. I had worked so long, done so much research, so many people had trusted me with their stories, I cared so much about “my” subject — but all you could see was the sweat- stains and the tear-stains and the ugly residues of exertion, none of the love. It was a wreck, and so was I. It was August, or maybe it was December, or maybe it was March. What did seasons matter? Each day was indistinguishable from the one previous or the one succeeding, a dismal blur of pixels; nothing felt like progress. iii The secret to writing is not writing. Or maybe the secret to writing is writing every day. Or maybe the secret to writing is... there’s no secret. The only thing is to follow what interests you. One day, after many many many revisions, the stories started to come together, slough off their excesses and excrescences, and began to explain themselves to me. All genuine scholarship is fundamentally, irreducibly collaborative, a dialogue with historical sources, with other scholars (whether credentialed or not), with colleagues, with friends. But this kind of production also arises from contingent conditions, life circumstances — don’t forget, ignore, or evade yourself when writing. Idea-seeds cultivated in this dissertation were sown in casual conversations with strangers in the supermarket; during random TV-watching binges during anxiety meltdowns (food advertising is wonderfully suggestive); walking around with a tiny dog at the end of a leash; asleep at night, in bed. Life spat, sputtered, spattered, always bursting with flavor, and I was there to be splashed in its spray. It took me a while to realize that this was also what I should be registering, recording, and responding to. The conditions of writing are usually strenuously isolating, and systems of academic reputation-making generally reward the “individual talent,” the fantasy of the dissertation-producing brain in the vat. But don’t forget this, readers/toilers in need of uplift, comfort, consolation! Move away from the laptop, open the window, talk to other people, talk to me, let yourself wander. I don’t know whether this will seem obvious to almost everyone, but it was something that I kept forgetting. iv This project began with curiosity and coincidence. In my second year of graduate school, I was in Ruth Schwartz Cowan’s history of technology seminar, and I had to come up with an idea for a paper. I lit upon a phenomenon I had recently observed. Why do concord grapes, the deep purply grapes you can find more easily at east coast farmer’s markets than at grocery stores, taste so much like grape jolly ranchers, fake grape? If one considered grape flavor as a technology, a technology that emerged at a specific historical moment and under particular material and social conditions, could it perhaps illuminate this apparent slippage between the uber-fake and the ultra-authentic? I wondered if I could find an answer to that question at Monell Chemical Senses Center, a low-slung brick building on Market Street, fronted by an extremely compelling work of public art — “Face Fragment,” a 1975 sculpture by Arlene Love that featured giant gilded lips and a giant gilded schnoz. Every day on my way to campus, I would walk right past this gleaming mouth and nose, and mull over that unfamiliar, alluring, term: “chemical senses.” It turned out that Monell — an active research institution — housed, within its warren of laboratories, the library of the Society of Flavor Chemists, a collection of such strangeness, richness, and untapped splendor that it inspired this whole crazy journey. Dani Reed, at Monell, was instrumental in making this resource available to me, and encouraging me to drink deeply. This project also would never have been completed without the generous, gracious support and encouragement of Alfred Goossens, of the Society of Flavor Chemists. Many of the readers of this dissertation will not know Alfred, so allow me to sketch a portrait for you. He is unfailingly elegant or even courtly – he v always wears the most gorgeous suits — and speaks English wish a soft Dutch accent. A retired flavor chemist with a long and distinguished career at Naardens, Alfred was unstintingly generous with his knowledge, his expertise, his time. He was always ready to answer my questions, or introduce me to fascinating people in the flavor world. I owe him so much. This work was supported by Chemical Heritage Foundation, where I spent a marvelous and productive year as a Beckman Fellow. My fellow dissertation fellows, Tim Johnson, Edward Driggers, Britt Dahlberg, and Dan Liu, were incredible colleagues and friends. Dan, in particular, deserves credit