Japanese agrobiodiversity art

Adam at Mutantfrog Travelogue, which seems to be a blog about things Japanese, has a post about a craft called Mizuhiki (水引). This involves the decorative use of twine made from a special kind of traditionally-produced paper called Washi or Wagami (和紙). Washi is made from all kinds of different agrobiodiversity:

Washi is commonly made using fibers from the bark of the gampi tree, the mitsumata shrub (Edgeworthia papyrifera), or the paper mulberry, but also can be made using bamboo, hemp, rice, and wheat.

That “gampi tree” gave me a bit of trouble, but I finally ran it to ground. It seems to be Wikstroemia sikokiana in the Thymelaeaceae. The paper looks beautiful. Anyway, in researching all this I came across a little gem:

In 1869 the then Prime Minister, William Gladstone, requested a report on Japanese paper and papermaking from the British Embassy in Japan. A thorough investigation was carried out by Sir Harry Parkes and his team of consular staff in different Japanese towns, resulting in the publication of a government report, “Reports on the manufacture of paper in Japan“, and the formation of a collection of 400+ sheets of handmade paper. The main parts of this collection are now housed in the Paper Conservation Laboratory of the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the Economic Botany Collection of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. In 1879 Kew sent duplicate samples to Glasgow, Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, but these have been lost. The Parkes paper collection is important because the origin, price, manufacturing method and function of each paper was precisely documented.

Something to check out the next time I’m in London.

Forays in fermentation

ResearchBlogging.org
There’s a couple of interesting articles about cereal fermentation in the latest Food Microbiology. Both basically say that fermentation is a useful way of getting more nutrition out of your staples. Rob Nout ((Nout, M. (2009). Rich nutrition from the poorest – cereal fermentations in Africa and Asia Food Microbiology DOI: 10.1016/j.fm.2009.07.002)) describes how various traditional fermented dishes are made in Africa and Asia, ranging from kenkey in Ghana to idli in Sri Lanka. The former is made from maize, the latter from rice. Here’s the part of the paper’s Table 1 which lists fermented foods made from maize and sorghum (pearl millet, finger millet and rice are also considered):

table

It can get complicated. Here’s how they make jnard in India (I’ve removed the references to ease the flow), for example:

Jnard is an opaque beer made from finger millet (Eleusine coracana). Although – judging by its description – it would seem similar to Tchoukoutou, its mode of processing is fundamentally different. Whereas Tchoukoutou is brewed from sorghum malt, Jnard is saccharified by the action of an indigenous amylolytic starter (Murcha) on previously soaked and cooked fingermillet paste. Murcha is a rice-based dried tablet containing a mixed microflora of filamentous fungi, yeasts and lactic acid bacteria, and differs from koji which is a concentrate of fungal conidia of e.g. Aspergillus oryzae, used in the preparation of soya sauce and similar products. The process of preparing Jnard includes an overnight soak of finger millet seeds to soften them, grinding to obtain a crushed mass which is cooked and cooled to about 30ºC. Then, pulverized Murcha is sprinkled in the cooked mass and during a 1-3 day incubation, saccharification, lactic fermentation and alcoholic fermentation take place simultaneously. Functional microorganisms of Murcha and similar Asian amylolytic starters are filamentous fungi (Amylomyces rouxii, Rhizopus oryzae, etc.) which produce a range of enzymes including glucoamylase that degrades starch directly into glucose; yeasts (Endomycopsis fibuligera, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, etc.) which ferment part of the glucose produced; and lactic acid bacteria (Enterococcus faecalis, Pediococcus pentosaceus and others) growing together with the yeasts. LAB are able to co-exist with yeasts in a protocooperative manner.

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Is there a natural diet?

A few days ago I wrote a brief post about natural selection and breeding. In essence, can human breeders achieve what natural selection has not, like turn rice into a species that uses the C4 photosynthesis pathway. Ford Denison, whose blog post I was quoting, weighed in not only to agree about C4, but also to point to another recent post of his, The bitter fountain of youth. In this, Denison expands on a paper in which he and colleagues showed that if food is scarce, it may pay ((In evolutionary terms, obviously.)) to swap early reproduction for a longer life. What has all this to do with agricultural biodiversity?

Because, as Denison pointed out, many components of a diverse diet have tastes and odours that could be associated with times of famine, times when it would be a good evolutionary strategy to delay reproduction and increase longevity.

Past population declines were often caused by shortages of food, which can affect both the amount and types of food eaten. For example, natural insecticides in plants often have an unpleasant taste. Over most of our evolutionary history, therefore, these plants may have been eaten only when preferred foods, like meat or fruit, were not available. Consumption of these “famine foods” would therefore have been a reasonably good predictor of population decline, so they may trigger physiological changes (lower testosterone, etc.) that increase longevity while tending to delay reproduction.

A remarkable result, seen in both nematode worms and fruit flies, is that food odors can reverse the beneficial effects of dietary restriction on longevity (Libert, et al. 2007). If an individual smells food, others may be eating that food, so population size may be increasing. In that case, delaying reproduction would be a losing strategy, even if reproducing now increases the chance of an early death.

What about humans? Our models assumed that individuals reproduce only once, then die, like salmon or soybeans. However, we expect that some of our results will apply to species, like humans, with more complex life histories. One result for humans that is consistent with our hypothesis is that artificially sweetened soft drinks are just as likely to cause metabolic syndrome (related to diabetes) as sugared soft drinks are (Lutsey, et al. 2008). Like food odors, sweet foods may have been correlated, over much of our evolutionary history, with abundance, and therefore with impending increases in population size. If we want to live longer, maybe we should instead eat foods whose chemical composition or flavor remind our bodies of past famines. The health benefits we get from eating vegetables like kale may be due, in part, to the chemicals that give them their slightly bitter taste.

The idea that our preferences and appetites were shaped some time ago is a common one, and in diet gives rise to ideas like the Pleistocene Diet. As Ford commented, his theory suggests a new explanation, for humans, of chemicals plants make to defend themselves against insects, the very chemicals that breeders are trying to increase in some varieties.

Penny, however, was not convinced.

Indigenous diets are often far more diverse in the range of flavors they seek out. They recognize flavors that in the western context, we would interpret purely as smells and include foods that are intentionally bitter, sour, astringent (ie. under ripe bananas), spicey, hot (as in creating heat), rich (oily or high in protein), bland, sweet, salty, pungent (like durian), what we might call foetid or just plain stinky (a sour green sort of smell-taste), and “off” (ie. turned the freshness corner or moulded) along with a few others.

She thinks that the westerners’ preferences are the result of reduced dietary diversity and “corporate food producers and plant breeders making ‘sweet’ junkies out of the city masses”.

Things then get a little out of hand, but I think they’re both correct. It was easy to turn us into “sweet” (and salty, and fatty) junkies precisely because those food elements were rare in our evolutionary history, and so there was no evolutionary advantage to be gained by turning them down, when available. Hence, we don’t know when to stop.

For me, some of the proof of that lies in the fact that indigenous cultures, confronted with a superabundance of sweet, salty and fatty foods are no better than the rest of us at resisting their appeal.

While I’m about it, I wonder how Denison’s idea of bitter tastes being a famine signal relates to the science behind Seth Roberts’ Shangri La diet? Both notions depend on associations being formed between the availability of calories and specific flavours and tastes. Are they even aware of one another? Maybe this post will make them so.

Anyway, my own lunch (bitter, fatty, spicy) calls, so with a quiet “ramen,” I’ll leave the last word to Ford Denison, a genuine, working scientist who is not afraid to blog:

On the other hand, evolution is an ongoing process, so I don’t exclude the possibility that different human groups might respond differently.