Not a whole lot, it turns out. But there are enough differences in ingredients to account for the subtle differences in taste and, particularly, texture.
Baking consultant Simon Jackel kindly wrote us a primer on the subject:
French and Italian breads are made from the same basic ingredients: flour; water; salt; and yeast. Both use “strong” flours. And they both develop crisp crusts in the oven due to the injection of live steam.
But there the similarity ends, because “French” breads, but not “Italian,” also incorporate small amounts of shortening and sugar in the formulation. The effect of these additional ingredients is to allow the French dough to expand more and become larger in volume, lighter in consistency, and more finely textured in the interior. In contrast, Italian breads are denser and less finely structured in the interior.
The shape of the loaf may tip off the nationality of the bread. Sometimes, “Italian” bread is formed in a football-like shape, as opposed to the sleeker “French.” And sometimes “Italian” bread is topped with sesame seeds, an embellishment that would probably make the French pop their berets.
Submitted by Todd Kirchmar of Brooklyn, New York.
Why Have So Many Pigeons in Big Cities Lost Their Toes?
The three main dangers to pigeons’ toes are illnesses, predators, and accidents. Pigeons are susceptible to two diseases that can lead to loss of toes: avian pox, a virus that first shrivels their toes to the point where they fall off, and eventually leads to death; and fungal infections, the price that pigeons pay for roaming around in such dirty environments.
Nonflying predators often attack roosting pigeons, and the toes and lower leg are the most vulnerable part of pigeons’ anatomy. Steve Busits, of the American Homing Pigeon Fanciers, told Imponderables that “Rats or whatever mammal lives in their habitat will grab the first appendage available.”
Accidents will happen, too. Busits says that toes are lost in tight spaces, namely “any cracks or crevices that their toes can become stuck in.” Bob Phillips, of the American Racing Pigeon Union, adds that toes get lost while pigeons are in flight, with television antennas and utility wires being the main culprits.
Submitted by Nancy Metrick of New York, New York. Thanks also to Jeanna Gallo of Hagerstown, Maryland.
How Do Highway Officials Decide Where to Put a “Slippery When Wet” Sign?
The holy grail of signage policy is the Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, a Federal Highway Administration publication that is followed by state jurisdictions as well. In other Imponderables books, we’ve regaled you with complex descriptions of how the MUTCD specifies exactly where, how, and why certain traffic signs should be posted.
But the MUTCD passage on “Slippery When Wet” signs is remarkably vague by comparison:
The Slippery When Wet sign is intended for use to warn of a condition where the highway surface is extraordinarily slippery when wet.
It should be located in advance of the beginning of the slippery section and at appropriate intervals on long sections of such pavement.
Without specific instructions, state highway agencies have to decide where to place signs.
So how do they decide what roadways are slippery?
1. According to Harry Skinner, chief of the traffic engineering division of the Federal Highway Administration’s Office of Traffic Operations,
Highway surface will become extraordinarily slippery if the aggregate or rock in the pavement becomes polished and cannot drain off all water with which it comes in contact.
Obviously, all surfaces are more slippery when wet than when dry, and a roadway shouldn’t be slapped with a “Slippery” sign merely because it becomes slick when ice accumulates. In fact, specific “Icy Pavement” signs are available to warn about these conditions. Sometimes, “Slippery” signs are erected precisely because the roadway looks innocuous; one state document we read indicated that a “Slippery When Wet” sign should be placed where “skid resistance is significantly below that normally associated with the particular type of pavement, or where there is evidence of unusual wet pavement.”
2. Bridges tend to be more slippery than adjacent pavements and may warrant a sign.
3. If a roadway is suspected of being slippery, engineers can do a technical analysis, determining the “coefficient of friction.
4. But the most common motivation for placing a “Slippery When Wet” sign is a little more depressing, as Joan C. Peyrebrune, technical projects manager of the Institute of Transportation Engineers, explains:
Generally, signs are placed at locations where an accident analysis indicate that a significant number of accidents caused by slippery conditions has occurred. The number of accidents that warrant a “Slippery When Wet” sign varies for each state.
This strategy reminds us of an old cartoon we found in a sick joke book: As an automobile pileup of epic proportions turns an intersection into a scrap-strewn catastrophe, an expressionless policeman mounts a ladder to place an “out of order” sign over a failing traffic light.
The intent of the “Slippery When Wet” sign is no different from the “Falling Rock” sign we talked about in When Did Wild Poodles Roam the Earth? The hope is that the driver, fearing impending doom, will slow down a tad. And maybe now that you know that these notices serve as markers for misguided drivers who once veered off the road, the signs will do their jobs even more effectively.
Submitted by Herbert Kraut of Forest Hills, New York.
Can One Spider Get Caught in the Web of Another Spider? Would It Be Able to Navigate with the Skill of the Spinner?
Yes, spiders get caught in the webs of other spiders frequently. And it isn’t usually a pleasant experience for them. Theoretically, they might well be able to navigate another spider’s web skillfully, but they are rarely given the choice. Spiders attack other spiders, and, if anything, spiders from the same species are more likely to attack each other than spiders of other species.
Most commonly, a spider will grasp and bite its intended victim and inject venom. Karen Yoder, of the Entomological Society of America, explains, “Paralysis from the bite causes them to be unable to defend themselves and eventually they succumb to or become a meal!”
Different species tend to use specialized strategies to capture their prey. Yoder cites the example of the Mimetidae, or pirate spiders:
They prey exclusively on other spiders. The invading pirate spider attacks other spiders by luring the owner of the web by tugging at some of the threads. The spider then bites one of the victim’s extremities, sucks the spider at the bite, and ingests it whole.
The cryptic jumping spider will capture other salticids or jumping spiders and tackle large orb weavers in their webs. This is called web robbery.
Other spiders will capture prey by grasping, biting, and then wrapping the victim with silk. Leslie Saul, Insect Zoo director of the San Francisco Zoo, cites other examples:
Others use webbing to alert them of the presence of prey. Others still have sticky strands such as the spiders in the family Araneidae. Araneidae spiders have catching threads with glue droplets. The catching threads of Uloborid spiders are made of a very fine mesh (“hackel band”). Dinopis throws a rectangular catching web over its prey item and the prey becomes entangled in the hackle threads.
Saul summarizes by quoting Rainer F. Foelix, author of Biology of Spiders: “The main enemies of spiders are spiders themselves.”
Not all spiders attack their own. According to Saul, there are about twenty species of social spiders that live together peacefully in colonies.
Submitted by Dallas Brozik of Huntington, West Virginia.
Over the years, we have received many Imponderables about McDonald’s but have found answers elusive. Now, with the help of Patricia Milroy, customer satisfaction department representative, we can finally unburden you of some of your obsessions.
To Exactly What Is McDonald’s Referring When Its Signs Say “Over 95 Billion Served”?
<
br /> This Imponderable has provoked more than one argument among our peers. We’re proud to finally settle the controversy. No, “95 billion” does not refer to customers served, sandwiches served, food items served, or even hamburgers served.
The number pertains to the number of beef patties served. A hamburger counts as one patty. A Big Mac counts as two. A quarter-pounder with cheese counts as one. A double cheeseburger counts as two. Got it? The practice undoubtedly started when McDonald’s served no other sandwiches besides (single-patty) hamburgers and cheeseburgers.
By the time you read this, McDonald’s will have “turned over” the sign and added another digit. Expectations are that the corporation will have sold 100 billion beef patties before the end of 1993.
Submitted by Jena Mori of Los Angeles, California.
Why Are McDonald’s Straws Wider in Circumference Than Other Restaurant or Store-Bought Straws?
McDonald’s has test-marketed numerous sizes and materials for their straws. Milroy says:
After working with our suppliers and testing them with our customers, we’ve found that the present size of our straws is preferred by the majority of our customers.
One of the readers who posed this question guessed the key to the wider circumference of McDonald’s straws—many, many milkshakes get sold at the Golden Arches. Any fan knows of the frustration of trying to suck up a thick glop of milkshake through a narrow straw: liquid gridlock. Sure, Mickey D’s might give us more straw than we need for Coca-Cola, iced tea, or milk, but when we choose milkshakes, the bigger the better.
Submitted by Melanie Dawn Parr of Baltimore, Maryland. Thanks also to Sandra Baker of Nicholasville, Kentucky.
Why Are the Burgers Upside-Down When You Unfold the Wrapper of a McDonald’s Hamburger?
For the same reason you put a gift upside down before you wrap it. As Milroy puts it:
To provide a neat appearance, a hamburger is placed upside-down on its wrapper, then the ends of the wrapper are brought together on the bottom side of the hamburger. The hamburger is placed right side up in the transfer bin for sale.
If the burger was placed on the wrapper upright, the “loose ends” of the wrapping paper would land atop the finished product, giving it an unkempt appearance and threatening the unraveling of the paper. Using the preferred method, the loose ends of the wrapping paper end up on the bottom of the wrapped burger as it is put in the bin for sale, allowing gravity and the weight of the burger to hold the loose ends in place.
Submitted by Renate Dickey of Macon, Georgia.
What, Exactly, Is the McDonald’s Character “The Grimace” Supposed to Be?
Milroy reported that Imponderables readers are not alone; this is among the most asked questions of the corporation. What does this say about our culture?
We’re not here to judge, however, so we are proud to announce the official position of McDonald’s on the exact description of The Grimace: “He is a big fuzzy purple fellow and Ronald’s special pal.” That’s it. Regardless of our prodding, our cajoling, our penetrating interrogation, our rare paroxysms of hostility, this was the most we could prod out of our golden-arched pals. But we are assured that this is as much as Ronald McDonald himself knows about his fuzzy purple friend.
Submitted by Michael Weinbeyer of Upper Saint Clair, Pennsylvania. Thanks also to Joe Pickell of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; Samuel Paul Ontallomo of Upper Saint Clair, Pennsylvania; Nicole Cretelle of San Diego, California; Ruth Homrighaus of Gambier, Ohio; and Liam Palmer and Jonathan Franz of Corbett, Oregon.
What Did Barney Rubble Do for a Living?
We have received this Imponderable often but never tried to answer it because we thought of it as a trivia question rather than an Imponderable. But as we tried to research the mystery of Barney’s profession, we found that even self-professed “Flintstones” fanatics couldn’t agree on the answer.
And we are not the only ones besieged. By accident, we called Hanna-Barbera before the animation house’s opening hours. Before we could ask the question, the security guard said, “I know why you’re calling. You want to know what Barney Rubble did for a living. He worked at the quarry. But why don’t you call back after opening hours?” The security guard remarked that he gets many calls from inebriated “Flintstones” fans in the middle of the night, pleading for Barney’s vocation before they nod off for the evening.
We did call back, and spoke to Carol Keis, of Hanna-Barbera public relations, who told us that this Imponderable is indeed the company’s most frequently asked question of all Flintstone trivia. She confirmed that the most commonly accepted answer is that Barney worked at Fred’s employer, Bedrock Quarry & Gravel:
However, out of 166 half-hours from 1960-1966, there were episodic changes from time to time. Barney has also been seen as a repossessor, he’s done top secret work, and he’s been a geological engineer.
As for the manner in which Barney’s occupation was revealed, it was never concretely established (no pun intended) [sure]. It revealed itself according to the occupation set up for each episode.
Most startling of all, Barney actually played Fred’s boss at the quarry in one episode. Sure, the lack of continuity is distressing. But then we suspend our disbelief enough to swallow that Wile E. Coyote can recover right after the Road Runner drops a safe on Coyote’s head from atop a mountain peak, too.
Hanna-Barbera does not have official archives, so Keis couldn’t assure us that she hadn’t neglected one of Barney Rubble’s jobs. Can anyone remember any more?
Submitted by Rob Burnett of New York, New York.
For any other readers who submitted this Imponderable, please write so that your name can be included for future editions.
Why Do We Wave Polaroid Prints in the Air After They Come Out of the Camera?
Imponderables often has to ask anthropologists, anatomists, physiologists, or geneticists questions about bodily quirks or anachronisms. Why do we have patches of hair between our knuckles? Why do we have an appendix? What good are earlobes? More often than not, experts shrug their shoulders and reply that at one time in our evolution these features might have served some purpose, but their function is now lost in obscurity. Humans have many such vestigial anatomical remnants.
Likewise, some human activities that now seem meaningless might have served some purpose in an earlier era. To wit: gratuitous hand flapping. We have all seen someone inadvertently consume something that was too hot to put in the mouth. What is the universal cure for a scorched throat? Invariably we see the victim waving a hand violently up and down in front of an opened mouth.
How can flapping your limbs possibly solve the problem of a 900-degree pizza hitting the roof of your mouth? It can’t, of course. We can only surmise that in the paleolithic period, perhaps a now-extinct flying insect was preternaturally attracted to burning mouth flesh, and that this waving of hands served as a deterrent.
Other examples of unproductive flapping are not confined to empty hands, however. As our astute field observer, Christine Schomer, points out, millions of amateur photographers can be seen flapping just-issued Polariod prints with the enthusiasm of Chubby Checker demonstrating The Fly, a dance whose moves might have been inspired by instant photographers waiting for their pictures to develop.
We contacted the folks at Polaroid to ask if there is any method to the seeming madness of flappers. Bob Alter, in the Public Affairs and Community Relations department at Polaroid, told us that flapping undeveloped prints doesn’t serve any useful function whatsoever. In fact, if the prints are waved too vigorously, the picture will bend.
But unlike earlobes or finger hair, at least the Polaroid flapping can be explained. Many years ago, Polaroid prints used to come out of the camera in a two-part sandwich, with the positive print sticking to the negative. The two parts were peeled apart. Often, a little polymer, the agent used to transfer the negative to the positive print, stuck to the positive print.
Photographers often waved the print in ord
er to dry off the tacky polymer, in the mistaken belief that the photograph would develop sooner. Now Polaroid uses “integral film,” so that the print comes out of the rollers in a self-contained unit. The transfer from negative to positive occurs inside the unit, so that the exposed print isn’t moist. Flapping the print around does nothing except kill time until the photo is developed.
So Polaroid flapping is a perfect example of vestigial behavior, an activity that once had some justification and now has none. When will this characteristic be bred out of us? Is Polaroid flapping motivated by genetic or environmental causes? Nature or nurture? Stay tuned.
Submitted by Christine Schomer of New York, New York.
Impressed with our perspicacity in the Imponderables section? Whenever we get full of ourselves, gloating about how we stumbled upon the solution to a knotty Imponderable, our darker side whispers, “Frustables. Frustables. Frustables.”
How Does Aspirin Find a Headache? Page 16
