Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.
Wine goes with cheese. Meat sandwiches go with a pickle. Green tea goes with Asian food. Sushi goes with pickled ginger. Oil goes with vinegar. Soda goes with chips. Many of the world's most beloved food combinations pair an astringent food, which causes the mouth to pucker up, with a fatty food, which makes the mouth feel slippery.
But why? "The kernel of this idea of pairing astringents with fats is found in gastronomies all over the planet, but it's never been clear how or why these pairings work," said Paul Breslin, an experimental psychologist at RutgersUniversity and Monell Chemical Senses Center who studies taste perception.
In a new paper published online Oct. 8 in the journal Cell, Breslin and colleagues propose a theory of food pairings that explains for the first time how astringent and fatty foods oppose one another to create a balanced "mouthfeel."
Because fat is oily, eating it lubricates the mouth, making it feel slick or even slimy, Breslin said. Meanwhile, astringents, chemical compounds such as the tannins in wine and green tea, make the mouth feel dry and rough. They do this by chemically binding with lubricant proteins present in saliva, causing the proteins to clump together and solidify, and leaving the surface of the tongue and gums without their usual coating of lubrication. [Tip of the Tongue: The 7 (Other) Flavors Humans May Taste]
We don't like slimy, but we don't like puckered up, either. "We want our mouth to be lubricated but not overly lubricated," Breslin told LiveScience. "In our study, we show that astringents reduce the lubricants in the mouth during a fatty meal and return balance."
Although this food-pairing idea had been proposed before, it was a mystery how that balance might actually be struck, because wine, green tea and the other widely consumed astringents are only mildly astringent. No one knew how they managed to cut the fat as well as they do. [Will People Really Be Forced to Stop Eating Meat?]
The researchers discovered that astringents have a stronger effect each time the mouth is exposed to them. Every time study participants took a sip of green tea, for example, they perceived it to be more astringent than during the previous sip, indicating that the astringents were reacting more strongly with the lubricating proteins in their mouths upon each exposure. This growth in astringency is why, even though tea and wine have only a weak effect at first, sipping them throughout a fatty meal eventually enables the astringents to counterbalance the strong lubricating effect of the fat.
A second experiment supported this conclusion. When the study participants alternated their sips of tea with bites of salami, the perceived slipperiness of their mouths (caused by the fatty salami) gradually decreased as they took more sips. When they sipped water, by contrast, the slimy feeling in their mouths continued to build.
The importance of repeated exposure explains why we don't tend to gulp down an entire glass of wine then eat our entire steak. Nor do we polish off our whole pickle before setting into our sandwich. The new research justifies the widespread use of astringent foods as "palate cleansers" that people sample throughout a meal.
This general principle of yin and yang food pairings goes part of the way in explaining gastronomy, but what about the specifics? Why do we pair sushi with pickled ginger rather than with a soda, despite the fact that they're both astringents? And why does cheese seem to taste better with red wine than with green tea? As Breslin put it, "Is there something to the idea that a particular astringent and a particular fatty food go together?"
The famous pairings could simply be cultural accidents — a matter of which foods were available in which regions. But Breslin said it's also possible that cultures have unknowingly worked out the most balanced pairings based on the chemical properties of the foods.
"Different kinds of astringents give rise to different rates of growth of astringency. As you repeatedly sample them, one will have a steep rise and the other a shallow rise," he said. "It could be that there's a particular mixing of an astringent and a fatty food that determines how strong the astringent is going to be and how quickly it gets there. This is a mystery of gastronomy."
More from LiveScience:
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.

Getty Images stock
When the American Licorice Company announced on Wednesday it was voluntarily recalling its black licorice Red Vines because of high levels of lead, about half the country paused and thought, “Wait, people eat black licorice?” The other half (presumably mostly curmudgeonly grandfathers and uncles) became disappointed to learn it would be harder than ever to find the sweet treat.
Licorice, which comes from the root of Glycyrrhiza glabra plant, flavors what we call black licorice (which is redundant), liqueurs such as Jagermeister, and medicines such as NyQuil, which relies on the pungent flavor to mask the medicinal taste. Even though it commonly appears in products, licorice seems polarizing.
“People either love it or hate it and, as far as I can tell, it’s not a learned like or dislike,” says Marcia Pelchat, an associate member of the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia, a nonprofit center, which researches taste and smell.
“I don’t know a specific gene that is associated with liking and disliking licorice. [But] it does seem to be something that people are born with.”
While experts haven’t conducted much research on licorice preference, Pelchat — who dislikes the flavor but is married to a lover of licorice — shares a few theories as to why licorice divides us between the lovers and the haters.
When we eat, we use both the sense of taste and smell to detect flavor. Taste includes sweet, bitter, salty and sour. When we bite into a piece of licorice, we taste glycyrrhizin, a natural sweetener in licorice root, which can taste, to some, like saccharin, the artificial sweetener found in Sweet 'n' Low. With licorice, this sickly sweet lingers, causing some to wrinkle their noses in displeasure.
“What this suggests to me is maybe liking and disliking licorice is related to liking and disliking saccharin,” Pelchat says.
Licorice also contains anethole, which is aromatic and plays on our olfactory sense. Anethole also occurs in anise and fennel, both of which licorice haters might find more tolerable. (Anise and fennel flavor absinthe, for anyone who thought it, too, might be a licorice liqueur.)
“[Taste] seems to be built-in; it doesn’t require any learning,” she explains, adding that people can train themselves to like spicy foods, or even cilantro. “However, responses to smells seem to be learned.”
While this means people might dislike licorice because it reminds them of the smell of NyQuil, or another malodorous memory, Pelchat suspects that it’s really the taste, not the smell that turns people off.
“There are lots and lots of genes involved in the perception of [flavor] and of aroma and we probably all have relatively unique sensory worlds. So that’s just something to keep in mind in talking about individual differences in preference.”
Related:
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.

Featurepics.com
To a very vocal online contingent, cilantro is the very worst.
On "I Hate Cilantro" websites and Facebook pages they gripe that the herb tastes like soap, mold, or dirt. Cilantro haters not only despise its flavor, they also detest its smell. Stories in publications as serious as the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal and, yes, even msnbc.com have even covered the sharp divide in taste preferences when it comes to this particular herb. And when a study of identical twins found an aversion to cilantro stems from a genetic glitch, the herb's bashers finally had a good reason why they found the leaves of the Coriander plant so offensive.
But who are these people in the anti-cilantro community? No one had a clue -- until now.
There has been no attempt to quantify which people hate the herb until two nutrition experts from the University of Toronto took a stab at it. They recently published their findings in the journal Flavour. In the study, they surveyed nearly 1,400 young adults ages 20 to 29 in Canada.
Volunteers completed a 63-item preference checklist in which they rated each food on a 9-point scale from 1 (dislike extremely) to 9 (like extremely). They could also select "never tried" or "would not try."
Researchers found an aversion to cilantro ranged from a low of 3 percent to a high of 21 percent among six different ethnic groups.
Young Canadians with East Asian roots, which included those of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai and Vietnamese descent, had the highest prevalence of people who disliked the herb at 21 percent. Caucasians were second at 17 percent, and people of African descent were third at 14 percent.
Among the herb's fans, the group with the fewest number of people who disliked cilantro were those of Middle Eastern background at 3 percent, followed by those of Hispanic and South Asian ancestry at 4 percent and 7 percent respectively.
Exposure to the herb at an earlier age and with greater frequency in Mexican, Asian, and Indian cooking likely helps shape a positive flavor preference. Another possibility is that genetic differences among the cultural groups might influence someone's taste perception of the herb.
Although researchers have yet to evaluate all 63 items on the food-preference checklist, study author Ahmed El-Sohemy, PhD, is sure of one thing: "Cilantro is perhaps the most polarizing with large numbers either loving it or hating it." The paper calls this the "unusual divisive nature of cilantro."
"People who dislike cilantro extremely describe it very, very differently from those who love it," explains El-Sohemy, an associate professor of nutrition at the University of Toronto. The reason? "These individuals live in very different sensory worlds and are not perceiving the same thing," he says.
As for El-Sohemy's opinion of cilantro, count him among the lovers. "I remember loving the taste as a child," he says. "I distinctly remember my mother's Egyptian cooking, which used cilantro frequently."
The study is a first step in determining how widespread a dislike for cilantro is, at least in a sample of young Canadians. It's unclear whether older Canadians feel similarly or how much the herb is despised by people in other countries.
Eventually, the Toronto scientists hope to pinpoint the genetic basis for why cilantro is an herb some people love to hate.
Chef Ina Garten, aka "Barefoot Contessa," talks about her decision to become a chef after a career at the White House, her favorite fall meal and which pesky ingredient she despises.
Related:
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.

Whether you love or loathe cilantro, guacamole wouldn't be the same without it.
Cilantro: delightful element of delicious tacos and pico de gallo -- or horrid herb of death that smacks of soap? Like Facebook's Timeline and every episode of "Glee" ever, there's an undeniable "love it or hate it" quality about cilantro.
Actually, the haters are backed by some respected culinary tastemakers: Ina Garten (aka Barefoot Contessa) and Top Chef Fabio Viviani are the latest celebrity chefs to side with cilantrophobes, as they recently told our TODAY.com team. And Julia Child confessed to Larry King in a 2002 interview that she if she ever sees the herb in something she'd ordered, she would pick it out and "throw it on the floor." Harsh.
On Team Cilantro: behavioral neuroscientist Charles J. Wysocki, of the Morell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. Wysocki has been attempting to pinpoint the polarizing nature of coriander leaves -- better known, of course, as cilantro. Wysocki has studied preferences for cilantro in twins, both fraternal and identical. In identical twins, if one twin hates the smell of cilantro, the other is more likely to hate it; the flip side is true, too -- if an identical twin loves the smell, the other will likely love it, too.
"That does not hold for fraternal twins," explains Wysocki, adding that these findings "suggest very strongly that whatever it is that people underlies the preference is genetically determined."
Cilantro: Love it or loathe it?
But what is it about cilantro that some people find so intensely offensive? To begin to find out, Wysocki has used gas chromoatography, a contraption that uses heat to separates a complex mixture of molecules -- like cilantro -- piece by piece, allowing researchers to identify each individual compound, by using both the instrument and their own noses. The GC, as it's called, warms the cilantro, and as it heats up, that "soapy" smell is released. About 10 minutes later, the pleasantly herbaceous cilantro smell is emitted -- but the typical cilantro hater still can't smell it.
"What we think might be happening is the person who hates cilantro is, in fact, detecting the soapy odor. But what they seem to be missing is the nice, aromatic, green component," says Wysocki, who thinks the smell of cilantro is quite pleasant. "It’s possible that they have a mutated or even an absent receptor gene for the receptor protein that would interact with the very pleasant smelling compound."
Hear that, cilantro haters? You're mutants, says a scientist. (We kid, we kid.)
As the theory goes -- and Wysocki is quick to remind that this is still speculative -- cilantrophobes may not be able to pick up the scent of a compound called dodecenal, which gives the cilantro that lovely fresh scent we cilantrophiles know so well. It's even possible, Wysocki allows, that those soap-smellers may have something called specific anosmia, which is the lack of perception of an odor for a specific compound, when the smell is otherwise intact.
Readers, what about you? Whether you love cilantro or can't stand it, make your case in the comments. If you hate it -- is it because of the soapy smell/taste, or something else?
Related:
Follow cilantro-lover and msnbc.com health editor Melissa Dahl on Twitter: @melissadahl.
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.
Having a bad taste in your mouth from food or drink can lead you to making stronger and harsher judgments of other people and their behaviors, suggests new research.
In the study, after participants tasted something they considered physically disgusting, they were more likely to think something was morally disgusting. Interestingly, this effect was significantly stronger in people who were politically conservative than in those with liberal views.
The experiment, published in the March issue of the journal Psychological Science, was the first to examine how taste perception affects moral judgments. It recruited 57 college students (41 women, 16 men) and asked them to drink a bitter-tasting liquid (Swedish bitters, an herbal remedy for digestion), a sweet beverage (berry punch) or a neutral fluid (water). Students drank one swift shot of the drink before doing a moral judgment task and had a second shot halfway through it so the liquid's taste lingered in their mouths.
During the task, participants were asked for their impressions of six morally murky behaviors, from a man eating his dead dog (!) to second cousins sleeping together to a lawyer trawling for potential clients in a hospital. They rated their opinions on a scale from 0 meaning "not at all morally wrong" to 100 for "extremely morally wrong."
Scientists found that volunteers who drank the disgusting, bitter beverage also expressed the most disapproval of the moral situations. Their average rating for the six scenarios was 78 (out of 100) compared to 62 in those who downed water and 60 in folks who threw back sweet shots.
"I was a bit surprised that the sweet beverage did not elicit significantly kinder judgments when compared to the water condition [which was the control]," says Kendall Eskine, a doctoral candidate in the psychology department of Brooklyn College in Brooklyn, NY, and the lead author of this study. "I was hoping that sweeter beverages would make people sweeter," he says, but it did not perhaps because the berry punch was more tart than sweet, something Eskine plans to change in follow-up research.
Even so, Eskine says that our sensory experiences, such as taste, play a very important role in our cognitive lives, even in areas like morality, which have typically been considered "reason-based" fields. These bodily experiences, he suspects, might be biasing people's thoughts and judgments.
Although physical disgust appeared to influence a person's moral disgust, scientists don't yet know how long the effect lasts. "That's one of our top questions going forward," Eskine says.
Researchers also asked study participants about their political leanings. They found that conservatives were significantly harsher in their moral decision-making after the bitter drink than those given the sweet or control beverage. Other studies have suggested that people with conservative views are more sensitive to disgust than liberals.
One of the moral foundations conservatives rely on is "purity," explains Eskine. If conservatives care more about purity than liberals, then "inducing disgust [in conservatives] will activate their purity norms, which in turn can influence their perception of moral events," he says.
What's unclear, says Eskine, is whether liberals have a similar purity foundation but in different domains, such as the purity of their food.
What do you think of this research, readers? (Before answering that -- maybe take a gulp of some sweet soda or juice.)
Want more weird health news? "Like" The Body Odd on Facebook.
Want more weird health news? Find The Body Odd on Facebook.