In a recent article in the journal Ecology of Food and Nutrition, Mark Kristal argues that placentophagia (that is, the eating of afterbirth or placenta) could offer significant benefits for humans — especially considering that all other mammals (including non-human primates) do it. (link: ScienceDaily.com). These benefits might include increasing mother-infant interaction, increasing the effects of pregnancy-mediated analgesia in the delivering mother, and potentiating opioid circuits in the maternal brain that facilitate the onset of caretaking behavior. He acknowledges that these possible benefits don't warrant "the wholesale ingestion of afterbirth," but he does think the issue deserves further study.
The strange thing is that although all other mammals practice placentophagy, no human cultures do (according to Dr. Kristal) — except for Hollywood celebrities.
A Chinese delicacy. Looks like a pig, and yet it's vegetarian. According to the Liuzhou Laowai blog: "The dense cake is made from lotus seed paste flavoured with nuts and sesame seeds, wrapped in a heavy sweet pastry. They are also used symbolically to ensure that the dead have enough to eat in heaven."
After watching this video, I'm curious to try some Norwegian Egg Coffee. The person in the video left this explanation on youtube in response to all the comments:
I made this video. It was meant to be funny, and sort of a parody about a style of coffee making that is relatively unknown outside of Lutheran church basements. The egg seems to attract & bind with the finer sediment and then sinks to the bottom when you add the cold water to stop the boil. I am not the most boring person ever. I'm a transgender woman who was a little nervous about doing such a video because everybody seemed to think she was a gay guy. So now you can insult me correctly.
1) Did girls and women acquire those same Charles Atlas muscleman biceps shown on the box, or just boys and men?
2) Do they eat Pep on the International Space Station today?
3) Does anyone today still say, "He's got pep!" or "I feel peppy!"...?
And if you haven't had enough cereal trivia, please allow me to highly commend this new book, which is a lot of fun. My review will appear soon at THE BARNES & NOBLE REVIEW.
During the Second World War, prisoners held by the Japanese in an internment camp in Dutch Indonesia subsisted primarily on dry bread they made themselves in a camp bakery. But when their captors stopped supplying them with yeast, it became impossible to keep making the bread — until some of the inmates who were trained chemists figured out it was possible to use urine as a yeast substitute.
In the video above, Pieter Wiederhold, who was held in the camp as a boy with his father, discusses this urine bread. He gives a longer account of it in his book, The Soul Conquers:
Our bread was baked in ovens in the camp kitchen. This task required a large staff of kitchen personnel that came mostly from the Chinese contingent, many of whom were former restaurant cooks. The bread was as tasteful as one could expect considering the few ingredients that were available. After a few months the Japanese stopped supplying the needed yeast, so bread could no longer be made. This meant that the available flour could only be used to make a kind of unappetizing gruel or we would get extra oebi or ketella.
The absence of bread was most disappointing. Some creating chemists in our camp got together to think about an alternative way to make yeast. After much discussion and some experimentation, they came up with a solution. They would make yeast using urine. When I heard about it I was surprised but not particularly disturbed. After all, I had eaten frogs and lizards that had been cooked in our soup and I had drunk filthy water from a toilet on the train. Why would it kill me if I ate bread that was made with yeast derived from urine? When he heard about it Father smiled. "As long as I have something to eat to stay alive," he said.
In order to provide the entire camp with bread, a large volume of urine was needed every day. A number of large drums were placed in several locations around the camp and each carried a sign:
"Do your Duty. Think of the yeast factory.
By 8:00 AM we must have at least two
full drums or there will be
no bread tomorrow."
Some internees were given the job of collecting the filled urine drums and replacing them with empty ones. They made the rounds using a two-wheeled cart with handlebars like the one I had used for my moving tasks in the women's camp. The drums were taken to the bread kitchen where they were put on large wood-burning firest to cook. Nitrogen had to be kept inside the urine, which was then transformed to ureum, which in turn converts to ammonia carbonate. The nitrogen was then removed. The resulting residue could be used as a substitute for yeast. The project was directed by someone who we called the "chief urinist."
The first time I received my allocated piece of this bread I was pleasantly surprised. It did not look much different from the way it was before, and bringing it to my nose I did not detect any unusual smell. It tasted OK, although we were so hungry that almost everything seemed palatable. The uniqueness soon wore off and no one gave it any further thought. The bread was baked in this manner throughout the rest of our internment in Cimahi.
The secret is ammonium carbonate, formed when the urea in stale urine combines with water. It can be distilled, as the Dutch internees found, in a simple cooking pot. Ammonium carbonate decomposes to form ammonia and carbon dioxide, and it's these gases that cause the pockets or bubbles of air that make the dough rise. When the dough is then baked, the air pockets set, giving the bread its soft and spongy texture.
I just relistened to Frank Zappa's 1971 album, Live at the Fillmore East, or, Freaks & Motherfu*#@%! for the first time in about 40 years, and marveled again at the visionary talents of this supreme musical weirdo. Of course, Zappa died too young at age 52, and we were deprived of many potential years of his music.
I thought this vegetable song might somewhat counterbalance all the bacon and meat talk on WU.
For one fraction of a second after he sniffs it, I was sure the human was going to chow down on this bowl of dog food. After all, if the dog can talk, why not?
If you're ever at a dinner party where the host has a set of forks that look like these, you might want to consider leaving, quickly.
These are Fijian "cannibal forks" used for eating human flesh. The iron dance blog offers this description of them:
The cannibal fork, or iculanibokola, was used by attendants during ritual feasts to feed individuals considered too holy to touch food. These forks arose for several reasons. First is a cultural taboo that prohibits chiefs and priests from touching food with their hands. Common Fijians generally did not use utensils until Europeanization. One of the most important ceremonies a chieftain participated in was the devouring of their or the tribes enemy. Combining the significance of the event and the inability to use their hands the chiefs needed a way to participate-hence the development of the cannibal fork. Forks became a way to show power and influence. The fancier more elaborate the fork, the higher status the owner had.
Fijian cannibal forks are still made, to sell to tourists. What the tourists use them for... I guess that's their own business.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.