FRUSTABLE 10: Why Does Meat Loaf Taste the Same in All Institutions?
We admit that this is a personal obsession of ours. Ever since we noticed that meat loaf tasted the same in every school we ever attended, we’ve sampled the meat loaf any time we’ve been forced to eat at a cafeteria in an institution such as a federal building, hospital, or college. Does the government circulate a special Marquis de Sade Cookbook? Not all meat loaf tastes the same, but somehow the meat loaf at an elementary school in Los Angeles tastes the same as the meat loaf at a courtroom cafeteria in New York. Why does it?
Frustables Update
FRUSTABLE 1: Does Anyone Really Like Fruitcake?
As expected, we received more mail about fruitcake than all the other Frustables in Why Do Dogs Have Wet Noses? combined. When we posed this Frustable, we suspected that there wasn’t one definitive answer to explain such a complex phenomenon as the perpetuation of this foodstuff, especially as a gift, that nobody seems to like. We were right.
Reader Bill Gerk, of Burlingame, California, was kind enough to point out that one of our favorite writers, Calvin Trillin, devoted a whole magazine column to this subject. Trillin claimed that “nobody in the history of the United States has ever bought a fruitcake for himself.” Trillin was besieged with letters from readers claiming they had bought fruitcakes, “although the receipts are never enclosed.”
Like Trillin, we can’t offer proofs of purchase, but we certainly heard from fruitcake lovers. Scores of readers, including Lilet Quijano of Livermore, California, Edmund DeWan of Urbana, Illinois, Anne Wingate of Salt Lake City, Utah, and Betty Begley of Cambria, California, offered to accept the unwanted fruitcakes of Imponderables readers. We’d include the full addresses of these folks, but fear lawsuits if the offers were simply a sick joke.
Several fruitcake-loving readers tried to ingratiate themselves by claiming that the silent majority would grow to love fruitcake if they only tried a good one. Claire Manning of Brooklyn, New York, not only admits to liking fruitcake (“a noble, beloved, memory-evoking little piece of heaven”) but to perpetrating said dessert on innocent friends and family:
Consider yourself among the underprivileged for this omission in your poor life. I not only adore fruitcake but I make it every year at the winter holiday season and do occasionally give it as a gift. So far, I haven’t received any…are they trying to tell me something?
Fruitcake can bring people together. Robert Tanner, of Naples, Florida, reports that he and his wife both love fruitcake. We are genuinely happy that they found each other but we must raise a sobering question: Should such a couple have children? Is the preference for fruitcake a hereditary trait? From the evidence of our mailbag, we think so.
Dorothy Lant, of Concord, New Hampshire, reports that her entire family likes fruitcake. Bisbee, Arizona’s Judy R. Reis notes that her daughters do, her sisters do, and her parents do. Her son doesn’t, but he only likes things with ketchup on them.
But fruitcake worship can cause family problems. Kim Anderson, of Alma, Arkansas, reports that because “My mom, my sister, my grandma, and my aunt like it, we always have fruitcake at Christmas, much to the dismay of me and the rest of the family members.” But Kim’s suffering is nothing compared to the shame of Melanie Morton, of Branford, Connecticut:
Yes, there are people who like fruitcake. I believe this is an indication of mental imbalance. I offer as an example my father. He is overly fond of the stuff. In fact, he is not content to wait to be gifted with it. He actually goes out out in search of fruitcake! As if this is not enough, he hates chocolate. He’s not allergic, mind you, he merely detests this wonderful creation.
Yes, fruitcake can wrench families apart.
So if the love of fruitcake is an unnatural preference, who is conspiring to foist this Milli Vanilli of foods upon us? Fred Steinberg, of Newton, New Jersey, thinks it is the evil of free enterprise. Fred once had a business professor who told the story of the marketing of the electric knife. Market research indicated from the start that consumers wouldn’t actually use the appliance once they owned it. Still, they proceeded with the introduction of the product because it was a perfect present,
a present for “kids” to give to their mom for Mother’s Day, for people to give as shower gifts. An electric knife is not inexpensive, not expensive, and appears to be useful. That’s why they were manufactured, bought by consumers, and now lie dormant in some remote drawer…
In other words, Steinberg’s theory is that enterprising bakers have created a food designed to be given away rather than eaten. When you think of it this way, fruitcake is the ultimate diet food, since it is never actually consumed.
Some readers thought that fruitcake was a foreign conspiracy, with the English cited as the usual culprits. Given their reputation for fine cuisine, we are inclined to believe that the English invented fruitcake. Jennifer Beres, of Norwalk, Connecticut, actually sent us a sample of her mother’s homemade fruitcake, which, even in the spirit of scientific investigation, we did not have the fortitude to sample. Jennifer veritably gushes with praise for the English art:
My mother is British born and professes the fruitcake’s existence originates in English tradition. Perhaps the reason that no one likes fruitcake is that the creation of a fruitcake is an art not to be duplicated in commercial factories by swiftly moving assembly lines. In order for a fruitcake to be made in the true English tradition, it must be meticulously and lovingly prepared by an experienced and appreciative fruitcake lover.
…After the fruitcake itself has been made, it is covered with a layer of marzipan, followed by a light and fluffy white icing of egg whites and confectioners sugar, which hardens to resemble snow. The cake is then decorated with Christmas scenes, using miniature wooden sleighs, plastic Santas, and the like.
Presumably, the diner can discriminate between the taste and texture of the cake and the plastic Santa.
But it is too easy to blame the English for what is now a worldwide problem. We are more concerned about the tight connection between fruitcake and alcohol. Timothy Taormino, of Baltimore, Maryland, admits to liking fruitcake, but is open-minded enough to concede that “when it’s bad, it’s BAD!” What he may not realize is that all fruitcakes might taste bad if it weren’t for the demon alcohol:
I know of a recipe from Ireland that replaces the usual brandy or whiskey with Guinness Extra Stout. My girlfriend made it for a pot-luck dinner and it was quite a hit (especially when served with an Irish whiskey hard sauce).
Why do we get the feeling that dessert, or for that matter, the appetizer, was preceded by a few cocktails?
Similarly, Jack Adams, of Valencia, California, reports that the only fruitcake he ever liked was his grandmother’s, and even this affection deserves a demurral:
She bought a fruitcake from the store and would put a shot glass of whiskey in the center hole of the fruitcake. After a few weeks of this the cake became so saturated you didn’t care what else was in it.
Anyway, please don’t publish my address. I’ve already got a shot glass and whiskey. That’s all I need.
Jack seems to have the right idea. If you want to drink whiskey, cut out the middleman (i.e., fruitcake) and admit what you really want to consume. If you don’t, you may end up like Nancy Schmidt, who not only admits to liking fruitcake but
so loving its distinctive flavor that I purchase surplus loaves at the holidays to stock up so I can savor my favorite sweet yearlong.
Whew, now that I’ve publicly confessed to my fruitcake fetish, I’ll either live a lauded life at the hands of other secret indulgers or, more likely, soon have uninvited guests in funny little white coats pounding at my front door.
Don’t put yourself down, Nancy. Admitting your problem is the first step in solving it.
Honestly, now, despite the naysaying of the apologists, the sympathizers, and the fetishists, fruitcake truly is awful stuff. If people really do like fruitcake, why can’t it compete on the open market
? If anyone would ever order it, restaurants would offer fruitcake as a dessert. If fruitcake is so visually inviting and festive, why don’t cafeterias ever offer it to lure customers? Wouldn’t someone at Christmas dinner eat it (besides the baker of the cake, of course)?
We do not doubt the sincerity of the many readers who’ve had the courage to admit their dubious preference. We can only hope that greater minds than ours can someday finally figure out whether the preference is hereditary or environmental, mental or physical, spiritual or demonic. Until then, our mailbox is open to your theories, suggestions, and sordid confessions.
Submitted by Sheila Payne of Falmouth, Massachusetts.
A complimentary book goes to Nancy Schmidt of West New York, New Jersey, who perhaps will spend her holiday period reading instead of roaming the streets in search of surplus fruitcake; and to Melanie Morton, of Branford, Connecticut, in the fervent hope that reading this chapter together will help heal her family from the wrenching tragedy of fruitcake friction.
FRUSTABLE 2: Why Does the Stroking of Index Fingers Against Each Other Mean “Tsk-Tsk”?
We still don’t have a definite answer to this Frustable, but two readers, Marsha Bruno of Norwich, Connecticut, and David Schachow of West Hill, Ontario, came up with the identical theory. Although neither claims to have any evidence to prove the contention, it makes sense to us. Since David was the first to write, we’ll quote him:
The two index fingers are generally the two that are used in making the sign of the cross (and the same fingers we use to cross our fingers for good luck, or make the sign of the cross to ward off vampires and relatives).
But why the stroking? Perhaps this is an evolved form of the whole cross (both fingers) being waved at or pushed toward the naughty-doer.
In other words, the “tsk-tsk” stroke is emblematic of pushing evil away.
Can anyone come up with anything better?
Submitted by Jim Hayden of Salem, Oregon. Thanks also to Mr. and Mrs. William H. McCollum of Oakdale, Minnesota.
FRUSTABLE 3: We Often Hear the Cliché: “We Only Use 10 Percent of Our Brains.” How Was It Determined That We Use 10 Percent and Not 5 Percent or 15 Percent?
A few readers found written references to this cliché, but they have had no more luck than we did in tracking down its origins. Jeff White of Etobicoke, Ontario, and Albert J. Menaster of Los Angeles, California, both remembered that Richard Restak’s 1984 book, The Brain, based on the PBS television series, mentioned the 10 percent theory. Menaster summarizes the contents:
Restak says that the claim is probably based on studies showing large portions of the brain being damaged without any observable effects…His conclusion is that since no one knows the number of neurons in the brain, it is simply impossible to determine how much of the brain is actually being used, and thus the 10 percent figure is without any basis and is unsupported by anything. I should add that I have read extensively on the subject of the brain, and I have never seen any scientific discussion of the 10 percent figure, which certainly supports Restak’s position.
Restak goes on to note that the destruction of even a small portion of certain areas of the brain, such as the visual area, “can have a devastating effect.”
One of the studies that Restak refers to obliquely is psycho-neurologist Karl Lashley’s, who removed portions of the cerebral cortex of rats without ruining their memory of how to run mazes. Reader Jeffrey McLean of Sterling Heights, Michigan, drew our attention to Carl Sagan’s The Dragons of Eden, which discusses this issue. Sagan warns readers that just because we cannot see any behavioral change in a rat doesn’t mean that there isn’t a profound change when humans lose a portion of their brains:
There is a popular contention that half or more of the brain is unused. From an evolutionary point of view this would be quite extraordinary: why should it have evolved if it had no function?
Sagan suggests that it is likely that the removal of a significant part of the brain does have a significant effect, even if we aren’t currently capable of measuring or quantifying the change.
So, at least two popular science books testify to the existence of the cliché, but we are no closer to an answer to the genesis of the belief. Two friends swear that they remember reading about the 10 percent theory in a novel by Robert Heinlein, but we haven’t been able to track it down yet.
Frustable 3 from Why Do Dogs Have Wet Noses? is still open for business.
Submitted by David Fuller of East Hartford, Connecticut.
Thanks also to Ray Jackendoff of Waltham, Massachusetts, and Jeff White of Etobicoke, Ontario.
FRUSTABLE 4: Where, Exactly, Did the Expression “Blue Plate Special” Come From?
Reader Marty Flower provided us with a hot tip. She suggested we call the Homer Laughlin China Company, in Newell, West Virginia, the largest and one of the oldest suppliers of café and hotel china in the United States.
We called them and found to our consternation that although they sell blue plates, they didn’t start the practice, and didn’t know the origin of “blue plate specials.”
We were forlorn until we heard from Roger Bosley, of Arvada, Colorado, who sent along a reprint from a book (A History of Man’s Progress) from and about Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska. This book claims that the now familiar blue willow pattern of china was inspired by a Chinese legend about a poor coolie, named Chang, who fell in love with Li Chi, the daughter of a mandarin, while playing under a willow tree. The mandarin forbade the relationship, and the willow tree drooped in sorrow over the broken romance.
The Chinese depicted the story on blue dishes, some of which were brought back to the West by Marco Polo. According to the book, written by Harold Ward, “restaurants serve their leading course on a blue willow plate and call it a ‘Blue Plate’ special—in tribute to this legend.” Unfortunately we couldn’t find any evidence connecting the “special” to the blue willow pattern.
We heard from a couple of people who encountered blue plate specials. Nazelle Trembly, of Ocean Grove, New Jersey, remembers that the plates had three-way partitions to keep sauces from running into one another. Trembly theorizes that these plates were exported from China, probably first used at sea, and then later shipped to port towns like New York, Boston, and San Francisco.
But Oree C. Weller, of Bellevue, Washington, is our only correspondent who ever washed a blue plate special. He believes that Americans imported this china from Japan!
During the 1930’s, Japan exported a lot of dishes, cups, and saucers in a hideous pattern. Cafés all over, especially the South, bought these dishes because they were cheap and the cafés could tolerate the high incidence of breakage by low-paid ($. 10 per hour) dishwashers like me.
The cafés served a fixed price, fixed menu lunch every day and soon customers began saying as they sat down for lunch: “What’s on the blue plate for lunch today?” And hence the name stuck.
Perhaps we’re no closer to knowing exactly where the expression comes from, but at least we have some tantalizing theories.
A complimentary book goes to Oree C. Weller of Bellevue, Washington.
FRUSTABLE 5: Why Does the Traffic in Big Cities in the United States Seem Quieter Than in Big Cities in Other Parts of the World?
All of our mail echoed the same sentiment: Traffic seems quieter in the U.S. because it is quieter. The hero, it seems, is the catalytic converter. Typical of the responses was the letter of Toledo, Ohio’s David G. Conroy:
Traffic in Europe seems louder because it is louder. The reason—emission standards. Since 1972, all cars made in America and those imported to America must have catalytic converters built into the mufflers. Not only do these little marvels clean up auto exhausts, but they also make cars quieter. If you disagree, simply take the shielding off the converter on your car and see how much noisier it becomes.
But other factors are involved, too, best summarized by reader Jerry Arvesen of Bloomington, Indiana:
Our federal emissions la
ws are more stringent than most other countries’. Only recently are European countries requiring unleaded gasoline and the technology that reduces emissions, pollution, and consequently, noise.
A better-running, state-of-the-art vehicle is much quieter than a carbon-belching monster. This is especially true when comparing the United States with countries from behind the Iron Curtain, whose technology in automobiles is the equivalent of the cars we were producing in the 1950s and 1960s.
Also, the traffic laws of the United States are both enforced by police and obeyed by drivers much more than they are in European countries. This would naturally lead to less noise from horns honking, the sound of fender benders, drivers yelling at each other, and the like. I once read that in Italy, traffic lights are a guideline. A green light there means to go without reservation; a red light means go, but look first.
Our cities and states are more modern and therefore laid out much more efficiently for vehicular traffic than they are in the older European cities that are centuries old and originally designed with narrow, twisting streets barely wide enough for horses and one-way traffic to pass through.
Do Penguins Have Knees? Page 18
