Food in the Air and Space

by Richard Foss

  The Soviets redesigned their spacecraft and kept launching Soyuz capsules on scientific missions, but by the second of these in 1973 the Americans had already been back to the moon five times. New foods were tested on each NASA mission, including one that became famous for all the wrong reasons: the strawberry cube. This was nutritionally balanced, but by all accounts tasted so nasty that none of the astronauts ever ate more than one. NASA acknowledged their complete failure as food, but found a use for them—they were encased in plastic and given to important visitors as souvenirs.9

  Other foods were also tried with mixed success—NASA was trying to find the perfect meal for health in weightlessness, and on Apollo 16 in 1972 experimented with a diet high in potassium. Astronaut John Young, who had flown five years earlier, praised the taste of the meals, but in a memorable transmission from the moon to Earth stated his feelings about the diet unequivocally. He hadn’t realized his microphone was turned on, and in a conversation he thought would only be heard by his companions in the capsule he complained that he was gassy, and went on about how much he hated belching the potassium-enriched orange drink. This was more than America wanted to know about its heroes on the moon, and Young stopped as soon as he realized that he had a larger audience than intended.

  After the moon landings, America moved to the next milestone in space: the Skylab missions. The hundred-ton space station had more room than ever before for moving around, and the crew of nine had the first refrigerator and freezer in orbit, allowing them to have real ice cream instead of the freeze-dried variety. As the Encyclopedia of Kitchen History noted, it was remarkably civilized compared to all that had come before.

  Meals came in rehydratable beverage dispensers and packages or aluminum cans. In the ship’s circular workshop, ten water tanks held seventy-two gallons each. . . . In the wardroom below, food heating and service for the nine-man crew made use of a freezer and refrigerator, dining space, and table containing electronic heaters to warm meals. By anchoring their feet to footholds, the men were able to sit for meals and gaze out a circular window to Earth below. To assure their contentment and nutrition, space cooks had expanded the menu to include filet mignon, prime rib, lobster Newburg, chili, ham, mashed potatoes, steak, asparagus, and a dripless ice cream in the form of blue wafers that melt in the mouth.

  In microgravity, diners of all three 1973 manned Skylab missions consumed 2,800 calories per day to meet normal physiological needs for their age, weight, and exertions, particularly life science experiments. To ready food for the table, each of three three-man crews warmed packages by conduction on the heated tray, which engineers divided into recessed compartments. As a joke, during the second manned mission aboard Skylab 3 launched on July 28, 1973, electrical engineer Owen K. Garriott smuggled in a tape of his wife’s voice saying, “This is Helen in Skylab. The boys hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in so long, I thought I’d just bring one up.”10

  Skylab was occupied by three teams of astronauts in 1973 and 1974, all of whom enjoyed the experience of gathering around a table with a view of space. Food warmers had been built into the surface of the table so they didn’t need to transport hot food, and the trays were locked into the warmers so that there was no danger they’d float away. Other aspects of the experience were also more like dining on the world they’d left behind.

  Food containers for the Skylab astronauts consisted of aluminum cans with full panel pull-out lids. Cans containing thermostabilized food had a build-in membrane to prevent spillage when removing the lid in the can and had a water valve for rehydration. Canned, ready-to-eat foods were held in the can with a slit plastic cover. Instead of plastic drinking bags, Skylab drinking containers were collapsible bottles that expanded accordion style when filled with hot or cold water.

  Eating on Skylab was a fairly normal operation. Knife, fork, and spoon were held magnetically to the food tray until needed. A pair of scissors was added to the usual utensils for cutting open the plastic membranes. With careful use of the utensils, food would remain in the cans until needed. On occasion however, a too rapid motion with a fork or spoon would cause a piece of meat or other food to drift away from the tray.

  Because of its relatively large storage space, Skylab was able to feature an extensive menu of 72 different food items. Unique to Skylab was a freezer for foods such as filet mignon and vanilla ice cream and a refrigerator for chilling fruits and beverages. Enough food was carried to provide each astronaut with 1.9 kilograms (4.2 pounds) of food per day. This weight also included the weight of the primary food packaging.11

  After Skylab was abandoned in 1974 there was a last Apollo mission, one that was as much for symbolic purposes as it was for science. The Russians and Americans sent up Apollo and Soyuz capsules, which linked in space. As cosmonaut Alexi Leonov related in the book he coauthored with American astronaut Tom Scott, he had prepared a surprise for his American counterparts.

  As the American crew spoke with their president, I pulled out the first of my surprises and watched carefully to see how they would react. Before we left Baikonur I had peeled the labels from several tubes of borscht and blackcurrant juice and replaced them with labels from famous brands of Russian vodka.

  “Before we eat we must drink to our mission,” I told Tom and Deke, handing them a tube each.

  “There are many people watching everything we do,” Tom said, looking a little concerned and referring to the television cameras we had spent so long repairing.

  “Look, Tom, don’t worry” I said. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  With that I took one of the tubes, squeezed its contents into my mouth and swallowed quickly. Tom gave me a broad smile, a wink and followed suit.

  “Why it’s borscht!” he said, eyes wide and slightly disappointed.12

  Both the Russians and American program managers had packed much more luxurious items on this flight, each apparently determined to prove the superiority of their orbital cuisine. The Americans brought up fresh breads and cheese, the Russians pickled perch, a variety of meats, dried fruits, and cake. Over eighty different items were consumed during the nine-day mission, and in many ways it was a preview of missions to come aboard the International Space Station.

  The Russian sense of humor was nicely shown when their cosmonauts shared a toast with American astronauts. The vodka labels on the containers of fruit juice led to unmet expectations.

  In 1974 the American space program entered another period of hiatus for the transition from the Apollo program to the Space Shuttle, and the Soviet program launched a series of military flights about which little information was ever released. They also sent several Salyut space stations into orbit, and crews spent increasing amounts of time aboard. After several failures, the Soviets managed the feat of sending unmanned supply ships to dock with the stations, and missions became longer—by 1979 a stay of 175 days was possible. The highly reliable Soyuz craft became a taxi for goods and scientists, including the first people in space who were neither Russian nor American. The Soviets used their space station as a tool of diplomacy, taking Vietnamese, Czech, Romanian, Mongolian, Hungarian, and Cuban scientists for trips aboard the world’s only functioning space vessels. There is no record of special food for any of these orbital emissaries, but when French cosmonaut Jean-Loup Chretien visited in 1982, he insisted on bringing his country’s cuisine with him. Cosmonaut Anatoli Berezovoi recorded in his diary that the Frenchman “broke the tedium” of Russian space food with “crab, cheese, hare, and lobster, followed by strawberries.”13 The Soviet space program was a rare bright spot in a period that came to be known as “The Era of Stagnation,” and it was a source of national pride during the years when the Americans were working to develop the space shuttle. The Soviets could point to gourmet food aboard a station with the red star on the side and make an at least somewhat credible claim to be masters of the universe.

  They continued this successful streak wit
h the launch of Mir, the space station that lasted longer than all its predecessors combined. This station was launched in February 1986 and remained in orbit for fourteen years, setting an enviable standard for reliability. Even as the country that launched it fell apart, Mir grew from a single capsule to a maze of rooms as new modules were added.

  The economic chaos following the end of communism extended even to the food supplies for the inhabitants of Mir—though supplies kept coming there was less variety, and at least once the ground crew stole luxuries intended for the cosmonauts. Nevertheless, the missions continued. Any questions about whether humans could survive in space for long periods was eliminated when cosmonaut Valeri Polyakov stayed aboard the station for 437 days. He was able to celebrate his milestone with a shot of vodka; one of the few improvements in rations since the fall of the Soviet Union was that the new administration allowed vodka and cognac to be shipped to the crew aboard Mir.14

  In 1994, toward the end of Mir’s life, supplies started arriving aboard a new type of spacecraft. The Americans were back in orbit again, and the space shuttle had been designed with docking ports that would match the aging Russian station. With the arrival on the scene of this craft, food in space would become more sophisticated and even more international.

  chapter 22

  The Difficulties of

  Cooking in Space

  Cooking is much more than just a means of producing food and has been recognized as a form of art and marker of culture since the days of the ancient Greeks. To make meals for a family or companions is an ancient signature of fellowship, one of the things that bonds people into a social group. For people living and working in space, it would seem to be an ideal pastime as well as a way of acquiring nutritious and appetizing meals.

  Despite this, there have as yet been no actual kitchens aboard any space vehicle, no facility in which the most elementary cooking can take place. There is certainly enough space aboard—the tiny galleys of flying boats, and of submarines during World War II, both supplied gourmet food.1 The problem lies in the nature of moving and working in microgravity, as well as the need to avoid contaminating the air supply.

  The problems with performing even the simplest kitchen tasks are obvious—imagine trying to chop hard vegetables like carrots or onions when there is no gravity to hold them on a cutting board, or sautéing when things won’t stay in the pan. There are convection ovens aboard modern space stations, but they can’t heat anything above 180 degrees—like the ovens aboard DC-4s and other aircraft made just after World War II, they’re fine for reheating but not hot enough for baking or broiling.

  These problems aside, the major problem with cooking in space involves contaminating the environment. The most hygienically raised and completely washed natural ingredients have microbes as passengers, and airborne bacteria and fungi are major problems in space. The Salyut stations and Mir both had air filters that were designed to remove as much of these as possible, but both stations developed problems with mold and foul air as they aged.2 Even thirty years later aboard the International Space Station, this remains a problem.3 In as sterile a closed environment as humans have ever created, the bacteria and fungi that are on every human body find places to grow anywhere it is humid enough and there are nutrients. In 1998 a US astronaut aboard Mir opened a rarely accessed service panel and found a free-floating mass of dirty water “nearly the size of a basketball.”4 Humidity had been collecting over a period of months or years, and with no changes in temperature and no air currents, it was a perfect breeding place for microbes. The wiring nearby was covered with flecks of mold.

  Now imagine the basic elements of cooking: heat, moisture, and usually some kind of oil or fat like butter that volatilizes when heated. Introducing these fat globules into the environment would add nutrients that those microorganisms would seize upon. Even with the best ventilation systems and filtration, bacteria and fungi would multiply in the air and be inhaled by the residents of the station.

  The psychological advantages to cooking in space have been recognized for some time; in 1985 a New York Times article about food for US astronauts finished with,

  On the prolonged space flights expected in the future, NASA officials anticipate that some astronauts will want to cook as a form of recreation . . . administrators are considering cooking facilities in space vehicles so that a future space traveler, hit with the urge for a medium-rare steak and baked potato, could have just that.5

  Almost thirty years later, that dream seems just as far off. Until spacecraft are developed that have a more earthlike environment with artificial gravity, a high volume of air treated so that microbes may be removed, and other features, humans in space are likely to be restricted to meals prepared on solid ground.

  chapter 23

  Shuttles, the ISS, and Taikonauts (1981–Present)

  Much as airline food did during the same period, food in space reached a plateau in the 1980s—though there were minor improvements and greater variety, there have been no major technological breakthroughs since the Mir era. This isn’t to say that subsequent spacecraft haven’t had better food, but that the improvements were generally thanks to new cultural and psychological sensitivities.

  When the first space shuttle launched in 1981, it was with a larger menu—there were seventy-four different foods and twenty beverages, including some fresh vegetables. Less than a day before each flight someone from NASA went to grocery stores to buy bananas, oranges, peaches, carrots, celery, and other fresh produce, then rushed it to be packed for orbit.1 Since there was no refrigerator on the shuttle, all the fresh items had to be eaten within the first few days, but the fresh foods eased the transition from earth to space.

  The rations included one treat that was to become an astronaut favorite: M&M’S. The chocolate candies might have been made for space travel—the hard candy shell kept the contents enclosed, and they were a literal taste of home for astronauts, food everyone had enjoyed since childhood in the exact same form. Astronauts developed games in which they did acrobatic tricks in zero gravity while catching M&Ms in their mouths, and the candies were major morale boosters. NASA never mentioned the candy’s common name in their press releases due to an official policy of not endorsing products, but when news reports spoke of “candy coated chocolates” people figured out what they were.2 The astronauts themselves were not so reticent—when astronaut Shannon Lucid was interviewed after 179 days aboard the Mir station and was asked what she missed most she immediately responded, “I would really like some M&Ms.” She had just finished her last bag.3

  The M&Ms weren’t the only branded items in space, and using those packaged goods was more than just a cost-saving measure. The program managers at NASA had finally realized that the taste and style of regular meals was important. A New York Times article detailed the changes:

  ‘We try to use as much commercially available food as we can,’ said Rita Rapp, manager of the shuttle’s food system, who has been with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration since 1961 and who worked on meals for the Apollo program in 1966. ‘For years the crew have been saying they want to eat everyday things from the grocery store. It just shows that people like what they are familiar with. . . . The current crew might be eating breakfast rolls from Sara Lee, diced pineapple from Del Monte, chocolate instant breakfast from Carnation, or M&M peanuts from Mars, Inc. They can also spice things up with taco sauce, ketchup, barbecue sauce and other condiments, which come in the familiar cellophane packets offered by fast-food outlets.4

  The shuttle’s galley did have some minor improvements, including one that had been developed for airline use—a way of injecting steam while items were in the oven. This was different from the airline version in that each tray that needed steam had a valve built into it, rather than the oven being fitted with a baking chamber into which steam was introduced.5 The New York Times article also gave details of the way that meals we
re cooked in the new galley:

  The galley, installed on the middeck of the shuttle cabin, resembles galleys aboard commercial airliners. The meal packages are removed from storage and those that require rehydration are placed in a rack. Crew members dial the proper number of ounces of water required and push in the rack, automatically puncturing the seals and injecting the water. Then items are placed in a convection oven above for heating to 180 degrees Fahrenheit. That is not enough to permit real cooking, not that shuttle crews have time for such diversions.6

  It was a far cry from the old days of massaging dehydrated mashed potatoes with cold water, and the astronauts praised the meals, which they said were similar to homemade meals created with frozen vegetables. There was a minor upgrade of the shuttle’s galley in 1994, but few changes to the methods of cooking—the principal aim was to reduce weight, not improve meals.

  In 2001, Pizza Hut became the first company to deliver a pizza to space. Astronaut Yuri Usachov is shown giving the thumbs-up. Pizza Hut paid one million dollars to the Russian Space Agency for the promotional stunt.

  Image provided by Pizza Hut

  There were only slight improvements aboard the International Space Station, which launched in 2000. The best thing about dining aboard was that the menu was indeed international—Russian foods like tvorog (cottage cheese with nuts), smoked sturgeon, and beef-barley meatloaf were just as available as American standard items. Fresh foods were still sent up on the unmanned Progress supply ships, and after 2006 there were increasing cultural choices. In a 2006 interview, Vickie Kloeris, manager of NASA’s Space Food Laboratory, detailed the cooperation between different countries as well as the ways in which earthbound chefs contributed to the program.