For most of us consumers, beer is something we buy in bottles and cans, its creation process something of a mystery; we have a vague notion of grains and a fermentation process being involved. Home brewers more firmly understand the science, but much of their alchemy happens inside opaque stainless steel containers, with your average home brewing set-up hewing to the Walter White Meth Lab school of design. So for his final-year design project Freddie Paul, a Product Design student at London's South Bank University, decided to make the home brewing process more transparent. Literally.
Beer Tree is a gravity fed home brewing kit for brewing craft ales. It concentrates on the brewing process as something to be enjoyed and celebrated. The process can be completely visualised from start to finish, involving the user more than traditional kits to create a strong sense of satisfaction and pride over the final product.
The video gives you a better sense of what the Beer Tree looks like in action:
We're digging Paul's use of laser-etched graphics on the control panel, his use of materials and the overall form. One commenter on the video is more critical: "It looks impossible to clean and sanitize, your mash tun will lose so much heat, it looks like you can't vorlauf" and more brewerspeak. Another commenter is more upbeat: "My close friends and I have all agreed. We would pay good money to own one of these. Seriously consider making a Kickstarter for manufacturing of this product. I would sign up to back you TODAY."
Paul, if you're reading this: Given that you've graduated and we don't see a current employer on your Coroflot profile, perhaps the crowdsourcing is worth a go?
Check out Paul's shots of the development process after the jump.
What's more fascinating than watching the progression of a talented artist or designer's work? Also, Creative Dads is becoming a thing. First we saw Michael Chou devising a better way to serve up ice cream to his kids. Now we see Nathan Shields, father of toddlers Gryphon and Alice, devising increasingly sophisticated methods of creating pancakes with aesthetic and representational value.
Using a plastic squirt bottle filled with pancake batter, in early 2012 Shields was drawing primitive forms to amuse his kids, with a hot non-stick pan as his canvas:
However, at some point he discovered that whatever streams of batter were "drawn" first would of course cook for longer, meaning they'd be darker brown upon flipping.
With this understanding of how to create tonality, Shields' drawings swiftly grew more sophisticated and defined:
This technique led to his popular Beatles Pancakes YouTube video:
Posted by core jr
| 16 Sep 2014
[Editor's Note: This product was sent to us from Savora for review.]
Among food lovers, graduating from "parmesan" powder out of a green cardboard cylinder to freshly grating Parmigiano-Reggiano at the table is a rite of passage. So too is grating your own nutmeg and zesting your own orange peel. The staggering selection of graters at a Williams-Sonoma indicates that more Americans are willing to GIY (Grate-It-Yourself). You can find graters in all shapes and sizes, tailor-made for specific ingredients (nutmeg, ginger, citrus zest, chocolate and coconut, to name a few). But with 3,795 search results for "grater" in Amazon's Home & Kitchen department, do we really need another one to throw on the pile? The people at Savora, a line of culinary gadgets owned by the North American Lifetime Brands, think so.
The Savora Hand Grater, a relative newcomer, combines rasp-like perforations with a removable container in one racy handheld grater. The company's lead designer, Sid Ramnarace—who has previously worked with Ford Motors—is behind the ergonomic designs that "mirror the smooth, aerodynamic lines of a modern automobile." Indeed, Savora's products have a whiff of something newly acquired by a man in a midlife crisis.
Posted by Sam Dunne
| 11 Sep 2014
This past weekend, Reddit users have been delighting in pictures of prepackaged grape juice (alas, not wine) and bread (or is that gum?) communion reportedly handed out to one church-going user's 7,000-strong congregation. The Reddit faithful were quick to dub the curiosities 'Christables' after a certain packaged lunchtray product and offered up a number of other amusing puns and slogan suggestions—from mildly disrespectful to brazen copyright infringement—including gems such as "I Can't Believe It's Not Salvation" to "# Bad dap bap bap baaa...I'm loving Him #."
As comments on the thread point towards, the incongruity that we (even non-believers) feel at the sight of this object has to do with the design language: disposable plastic + aluminum-foiled symbols of the fast and packaged food industries that is unavoidably synonymous with cheapness, convenience and transience—a culmination that no amount of script typography, biblical quotes and cross symbols can outweigh.
We think of factories producing iPhones, IKEA flatpacks and Infinitis, and as ID'ers we have an idea of what those production lines look like. But chances are you've never been inside a factory that makes cakes and desserts. Unifiller Systems, Inc. is a company that creates cake-decorating machines and food processing equipment, and their "sizzle reel" is pretty fascinating:
Once you've seen those machines above in action, it makes sense that circular cakes would be filled and iced on a turntable. But how do they get the filling into rectangular cakes, which don't have rotational symmetry? Surprisingly, for sheet cakes they use a "split and fill" technology that slices the cake horizontally while simultaneously injecting the filling (see it in action around 0:28):
From Australia comes this clever re-think of the common butter knife. Sydney-based industrial designers Sacha Pantschenko, Norman Oliveria and Craig Andrews put their heads together and came up with the ButterUp, which adds a row of precisely-shaped holes to the blunt edge of the blade. This enables one to "grate" a cold stick of butter, creating easier-to-spread ribbons:
It's not surprising that the ButterUp quickly reached (and tripled) its Kickstarter funding target, garnering AUD $126,213 at press time over a $38,000 goal; what is surprising is how badly, and quickly, people want this design. Rather than opt for the least-expensive, $12-per-unit buy-in with a March 2015 delivery date, nearly a hundred backers opted to pay $60 to have a single unit delivered by this September! These people take their toast seriously.
Posted by Kat Bauman
| 18 Aug 2014
Cheesemaking is a millennia-old industry, full of straightforward food science as well as dark corners of tradition and biological happenstance. Understanding the variety of traditional cheese production can make for a very long grocery trip, but some of the salient details may have escaped you by hiding in the packaging. Many cheese counters prominently display the reserve wheels of cheese that haven't been parceled out into dinner-party-sized chunks, and almost every counter sells wedged cheeses with clearly visible rinds. This isn't just to conjure delicious old-world charm. If your cheesemonger is nowhere to be found, or if you're generally foodie-shy, here are a few fun facts you can find built into the hard rinds of fine cheeses.
Country of origin. Like many wines, some types of cheese are regionally specific. Parmesan, or Parmigiano Reggiano (the so-called King of Cheeses), hails from a land of salty paternalism—Italy and Italy alone. Because by law it must be produced in the provinces Parma, Reggio Emilia, or Bologna, that wheel of cheese must sport at least one prominent D.O.P. stamp to be legit. On French products you'll see an A.O.P (possibly A.O.C), and regional American makers (like those using Wisconsin milk) use their own stamps too. Some cheeses give more subtle clues, like Spanish Manchego which virtually always has a basket-weave rind, having been historically pressed in grass baskets traditional to the La Mancha region where it is produced.
Cheese type and region. Though we rely heavily on our local cheese counter for proper labeling, most rind-bearing wheel-born cheeses do what they can to clear up the basics. It's very common for the basic info about type, brand and region to be carefully written in multiple orientations around the perimeter of the wheel, so it can be seen even in small segments. Bold dotted-line letters are often used, likely because stamps and dyes used on living, breathing cheeses tend to become less distinct as the rounds age, like that tacky text tattoo you got in college. Certain shapes often correspond with cheese type too. Pecorino Romano often uses a repeating dot pattern, along with a sheep's head icon within a dotted diamond. Grana Padano is completely covered with ovaloid "lozenge" symbols and four-leaf clover icons.
Some of us plan vacations based on a region's culinary specialties—which, for the record, is completely legitimate and delicious. Scouring travel books for information on locavorous delights is one thing, but in the interest of making cuisine more, um, digestible, we recommend Food Maps, by photographer Henry Hargreaves and chef/stylist Caitlin Levin. Joining forces as Hargreaves and Levin, the duo recently received a DIY Notable in the 2014 Core77 Design Awards for a series of maps depicting each country made up with its popular foodstuffs.
But the maps are much more than messes waiting to happen. "We have taken many of the iconic foods of countries and continents and turned them into physical maps," says the team. "These maps show how food has traveled the globe—transforming and becoming a part of the cultural identity of that place."
The work is detailed, demarcating different states and provinces with different ingredients. The use of perishable materials served as de facto deadlines for creating work. "The food was perishable, so we had to make it quickly so the ingredients didn't start to turn and look awful," says Hargreaves. Because who wants to look at an Italy made up of mushy, bruised tomatoes?
The finished products look good enough to eat, but the process was just as painstaking as any recipe you'd find in a Julia Childs cookbook. Check out this behind-the-scenes video:
Posted by Kat Bauman
| 22 Jul 2014
A backgrounder for those of you who don't live in Berkeley: Spirulina is a superfood. A superfood, for those who aren't obsessed with nutritional fads, is a food that is off-the-charts rich in vitamins, minerals and other stuff that is obviously yet mysteriously Good For You. Despite their grandiose title, it is a great idea to eat these uncommon comestibles; however, spirulina in particular can be a bit of work to get your hands on. It's traditionally grown in small ponds—historically in a lake system in Chad of all places—and it looks, to those without deep enthusiasm for biology, like pond scum. This is not a sexy or garden-variety foodstuff, but once harvested and dried it's easily added to other foods or taken as a supplement... at a pretty high cost. But what if it wasn't hard to harvest?
Tom Vered of Grow Spirulina has adapted (and sells) a method of home growing spirulina, and he's upped his own ante with a new standalone design, ostensibly to be sold online soon. This 10-liter machine would combine the precise biochemical and mechanical needs of a growing zone with the user-friendliness of an at-home yogurt maker. Besides the thrill of owning a unique appliance, you'd get the added benefits of taking your spirulina fresh and getting way more oomph per scoop. The literature varies on the specific difference, but even as a superfood, spirulina loses a lot of nutritional value when dried.
In recent years we've seen some neat re-thinks of basic cookware, from a self-stirring pot to Mike Whitehead's CNC-milled cast iron skillet. Now a rocket scientist from the UK, Dr. Tom Povey, has designed a line of pots and saucepans that boast astonishing efficiency.
Oxford professor Povey knows all about influencing temperature changes, as his day job in the Osney Thermo-Fluids Laboratory involves thermodynamics and jet engines. And whilst engaged in his hobby of mountain climbing, Povey ran into the problem of trying to boil water at high altitude, which takes longer than it does at sea level, burning more of the precious fuel you've hauled up the mountain. After realizing that much of the heat in conventional cooking is wasted, he set about designing a more efficient pot with this assistance of some fellow lab brainiacs.
"The problem with the current shape of [existing cookware] means a lot of the heat is dissipated into the air," Povey told The Telegraph. "So, it is an aerodynamic and heat transfer problem and we applied the science used in rocket and jet engines to create a shape of a pan that is more energy efficient."
Povey's radical-looking cast-aluminum Flare line, which UK kitchenware brand Lakeland began selling last week, employs something you see on turbines: Fins. These carry the heat from the base to the sides more efficiently, reportedly cooking food some 44% faster than a conventional pan. And a conventional pan requires 40% more energy to achieve the same results as you'd get with a Flare pan, making it ideal both for camping—less gas to carry—as well as appealing to kitchenbound consumers for both the energy savings and the evenness of the cooking.
Earlier this week in La Jolla, California, what appeared to be a massive oil spill in the water began creeping towards the beach. However, closer inspection revealed that the inky cloud was not a batch of Exxon-Mobil's finest at all, but an enormous school of fish. Specifically, anchovies.
Posted by erika rae
| 30 Jun 2014
"Take it with a Pinch of Salt!" (a dish exploring the street noise levels in Barcelona throughout the day)
Last week, BoingBoing picked up on a TL;DR study that validated the value of artistic presentation... when it comes to salad. A team of psychologists from Oxford recently published the finding that thoughtful plating goes a long way towards enhancing the overall perception of the dining experience. In short, if it looks good, we're more likely to think that it tastes good too (and that it's worth a few extra pounds—sterling, that is).
Gathering data on our cultural misconceptions is one thing; presenting it is another thing entirely—but it so happens that a couple of designers have undertaken this very task. In an (unrelated) inversion of the Oxford experiment, Data Cuisine is a research project in which socioeconomic data is presented as culinary visual- and gastronom-izations. Whereas the psychologists tested the eaters with an edible Kandinsky, Susanne Jaschko and Moritz Stefaner lead workshop participants in translating data sets into recipes: "Have you ever tried to imagine how a fish soup tastes whose recipe is based on publicly available local fishing data? Or what a pizza would be like if it was based on Helsinki's population mix? Data Cuisine explores food as a means of data expression—or, if you like—edible diagrams."
"Age & Language in Lentils" (a visualization of the median age, population sizes and languages spoken in the USA and Italy)
"First Date Noodles" (a look at the number of people who will have sex on a first date)
So far, there have only been two workshops (one in Helsinki and one in Barcelona), but the plates that they've posted to the website have proved thought-provoking. For example, the noodle arrangement pictured above, titled "First Date Noodles." The tangled ball of noodles represents the number of men and women (denoted by pink and blue noodles) who will have sex on a first date—59 percent of women and 86 percent of men, based on an informal survey among the cooks' Facebook acquaintances. The outlying noodles represent those who abstain.
Emigration Fish" (a dish representing the number of young people who emigrate from Spain)
True industrial design seeks out problems that can be solved with objects. The more common the problem, and the easier it is to produce the item you've designed to solve it, the more successful you'll be. And the Holy Grail, of course, is to find that common problem that no one's solved yet.
So here's a great example of a simple, monomaterial product design that's become a tremendous business success by addressing an unmet need in the kitchen. When it comes to storing food, we've got Ziploc bags, Tupperware, plastic wraps and aluminum foils, which are good at storing most things. But what they're lousy at preserving is a fruit or vegetable that's been cut in half; you've undoubtedly thrown away half of something because you couldn't use it all up in time.
Enter Food Huggers, which are nothing more than little silicone discs molded with a lip and an undercut.
By making them in four sizes—which nest for storage, by the way—industrial designers Michelle Ivankovic and marketer Adrienne McNicholas have covered all of the bases, whether you're looking to save a small or large chunk of fruit or vegetable.
"If you turn the tablet away from me one more time, Susan, I'm going to throw this margarita in your face!"
Here's what would be perfect: If you would take just two bites of that expensive dessert I upsold you on, one quick sip from the cappucino I talked you into, then pay the check and get the hell out of the restaurant. Because there's people waiting and I need to flip this table so I can make more money.
I learned a few things as a waiter in the '80s and '90s. One was that spiked hair and a fanny pack was not a good look. The other was that a server's job isn't just to take the orders and sling the chow—our job was to sell. Bigger checks meant bigger tips, and the manager was constantly coaching us on which high-margin specials to push, which desserts we needed to move, what the exciting new beer we had on tap was.
Well, now the Chili's Grill & Bar chain has found that, surprise surprise, tablets are better than humans at selling. "When your server is a screen, you spend more money," as The Atlantic puts it. Since installing over 55,000 tablets at tables, the restaurant has found that diners order more appetizers and desserts and even leave bigger tips by going along with the default tip setting, which is of course jacked up. They also tie the kids up with unlimited on-screen games that run $0.99.
The tablets are manufactured by a company called Ziosk, the self-styled "industry leader for tabletop menu, ordering, entertainment and payment" for restaurants. (But they are not without competition, see below.) Ziosk reckons the tablets, which flash attractive-looking food photos to entice diners to click, boost appetizer sales by 20% and desserts by 30%. They also shave about 5 minutes off of each meal, presumably because one never needs to flag a waiter down. Add it all up and these babies essentially pay for themselves, as the company claims: "The Ziosk platform is a revenue center, not a cost center for the restaurant and our offering is 'less than free.'"
Fifty years ago, most things you'd find in a refrigerator, like milk, ketchup or mayonnaise, were all in glass containers. Nowadays those items are mostly contained in plastic. Plastic is cheap, it doesn't shatter when dropped, and if you think about any jar you ever had trouble opening, it's almost never a plastic one.
The benefits of glass, on the other hand, is that they're more sanitary, re-usable, have better heat resistance and are safe to microwave. So Japanese manufacturer Hakuyo Glass has been studying plastic-vs.-glass uptake in the kitchen and concluded that if they can design glass jars that are easier to open, they can win part of the market back.
To do this, they consulted Tokyo-based designer Noriko Hashida, who heads up her own ID firm and is also a professor at Shibaura Institute of Technology's College of Engineering and Design. Hashida went all-out in her research, hooking test subjects of all ages up to an electromyograph to precisely measure their muscle movement as they opened a variety of glass designs. By studying where on a package force is applied, she concluded that a parallelogram-shaped cross-section was ideal and provided the best leverage. As a former structural package designer I'll say it doesn't look too shabby, either.
Hakuyo Glass has filed a patent for Ms. Hashida's design, and it's expected they'll soon make their way to Japanese store shelves to hold jam and pickled products.
Via Nikkei Technology
The simple combination cutting board below features multiple plastic sheets that allow the user to cut different items—raw meat, vegetables and bread, for instance—without cross-contamination.
We've all seen swappable plastic sheets before. But Fiskars added that nice little touch in the grippy rubberized grommet hole, providing a place to register the sheets as they're stacked on top. It also gives you a handy way to grab the cutting board and the sheets, and provides that splash of their distinctive orange for branding purposes.
It's not a game-changer or an earth-shattering design, and it won't have an impact on the company's fortunes the way their scissors did. But the designers among you will recognize this as one of those tiny triumphs that you pore over in anonymity; it's a thoughtful little touch that makes the experience of using this cutting board incrementally better. And for Fiskars, that's part of their strategy to conquer the competition-heavy kitchen space.
In a talk given at Fiskars HQ, Petri S. Toivanen, who heads up their Kitchen Business Unit, provided answers to some niggling questions that many designers have faced: How do you design a new product that can compete in an extremely saturated market? And if there are already thousands of products out there, what's the point of designing yet another one?
We recorded and transcribed Toivanen's talk, printed below. It has been edited for clarity and brevity; if there are any technical errors, the fault is ours.
Petri S. Toivanen:
When we set out to conquer the kitchen market, we started with the consumer, with the end-user. We spent a lot of time looking at how our products are used, how people cook, how they behave in the kitchen, how they go shopping, and we also looked at the social aspect of cooking. We learned a lot of interesting things, and I would like to share just a couple of them with you.
One thing you have to understand about this business: If you go to pretty much any household in Europe, all the [kitchen] drawers are full. Everybody has pretty much everything, knives, spatulas, et cetera. So our challenge was, How do you make a compelling proposition to consumers that already have everything? Well, we believe very strongly that we can improve even the simplest things, and make things that are already good even better, to bring us forward. And we are very diligent in doing so.
It is astonishing to think that prior to the Industrial Revolution, most power on Earth came directly from either man or animal. You had a few exceptions—river dwellers figured out waterwheels, and the Dutch had their windmills—but for most of us, if you wanted to power something into motion you attached it to an ox, a horse or maybe a broad-shouldered guy named Jeff. And a recent NPR broadcast has drawn lots of ears by highlighting a forgotten animal-powered contraption from the UK: A rotating spit driven by a dog forced to run inside a large hamster-wheel, and motivated to move by a piece of burning coal.
Referred to in the broadcast as "an essential part of every large kitchen in Britain in the 16th century," this Turnspit dog and possible Welsh Corgi relative was specially bred to fit inside the running wheel. An 1858 British book called Anecdotes of Dogs describes them as "long-bodied, crooked-legged and ugly dogs, with a suspicious, unhappy look about them." The wheel that they ran inside was attached to a spit holding a piece of meat over the fire. Says NPR:
When any meat was to be roasted, one of these dogs was hoisted into a wooden wheel mounted on the wall near the fireplace. The wheel was attached to a chain, which ran down to the spit. As the dog ran, like a hamster in a cage, the spit turned.
Auto designers and Milan-friendly furniture folks are the rockstars of industrial design, but designers who work on camping cookware deserve more credit than they get. To take cookware, a line of objects with clearly-defined form factors, and completely re-think them to make them compact, minimalist and lightweight is a challenge many of us would (and did) fail at in design school; but look at some of the leading camping goods companies and you'll see all manner of clever design solutions and a real understanding of materials.
Sometimes the innovations are small, as with GSI Outdoors' Halulite Pot. For example, a built-in strainer is something you've seen in conventional cookware, as with these:
But the moderate design flaw with those designs is that they require hand protection from the heat of the lid. GSI's designers got around this with two simple pieces of silicone to protect your mitts while you pour and hold the lid in place.
Gothenburg-based Katja Wulff runs a blog called Coffee Machine Cuisine - How to cook food with your coffee maker. She's been hooked on coffeemaker cooking since she pioneered the field in a 2009 dorm room, whipping up her first batch of noodles in the pot; to date she's made "pizzas, pastas, cat food...shellfish soup, testicle tacos (this was really a good one), cakes, breads, burgers, Swedish meatballs, pig tail soup... Pretty much everything in my old coffee maker."
Wulff's blog, filled with her entries accompanied by boyfriend Dan Sorenson's photos, is as weird as it is fascinating. And in addition to the coffeemaker—handed down from her grandmother, it appears to be from the 70s or '80s—she also experiments with using other household devices to produce meals, resulting in descriptions like the following:
Grease the minute steak and chop the onion and the bell pepper. Add pasta and a dash of oil in the coffee maker carafe, pour water into the brewer and a pinch of salt in the filter thingy. Start your coffee maker and plug in your hair waffle iron.
Yes, two types of curling iron, a clothes iron, a hair straightener, a hair dryer and a dishwasher have all popped up in Wulff's recipes. It's a fascinating look at how many objects in our house are designed to create heat, and how they can all be hacked for culinary purposes.
Posted by erika rae
| 30 Apr 2014
There's a certain intimacy in sharing a meal with a loved one. Unfortunately, the time spent together is more likely than not obstructed by modern-day distractions at some point (I'm looking at you, iPhone). There are all kinds of designs out there focusing on pulling people together and helping them appreciate the moment they're in—just take a look at First Date Cutlery. (And while most of these interaction designs blend right into the dining experience, some stick out like a super-stacked fork.) Michigan-based designer Sophia Thomas has created a subtle way to embody those dear moments with friends over a meal with her ongoing series, "Encoded Intonation."
The series is certainly abstract, in concept and product. My favorite installment, "Encoded Intonation III," features more material association to sound as plates and knives sporting a "soundwaved" edge from recordings straight from the mouths of the designer's most frequent dinner companions.
Posted by Ray
| 17 Apr 2014
It's never a perfect analogy, but it can be interesting when it comes close enough: Attempting to translate one creative discipline into another is, to mutilate the metaphors, more difficult than turning water into wine—rather, the old saying regarding "dancing about architecture" comes to mind. For Milan Design Week 2014, the Centrum Designu Gdynia ambitiously sought to distill a dozen products by Polish Pomeranian designers into culinary delights. Although the concept itself was executed to varying degrees of success, "Taste of an Object" offered a nice twist on the tried-and-true local design showcase.
Taking inspiration from Richard E. Cytowic's The Man Who Tasted Shapes (MIT Press 2003), the Gdynia Design Centre worked with razy2 design group to develop an exhibition in which "an object goes beyond the limits of how it's typically perceived."
"Flavors have shape," he started, frowning into the depths of the roasting pan. "I wanted the taste of this chicken to be pointed shape, but it came out all round." He looked up at me, still blushing. "Well I mean it's nearly spherical," he emphasized, trying to keep the volume down. "I can't serve this if it doesn't have points."
..."When I taste something with intense flavor, the feeling sweeps down to my arm into my fingertips. I feel it—its weight, its texture, whether it's warm or cold, everything. I feel it like I'm actually grasping something." He held his palms up. "Of course, there's nothing really there," he said, staring at his hands. "But it's not illusion because I feel it."
So goes the excerpt of Cytowic's book, a seed of source material that is planted in the geopolitical context of the Pomerania region of northern Poland, across the Baltic Sea from Sweden. Described as "a region of a turbulent history linked with and age-long fight for independence," Pomerania is also an incubator, "a base for brave yet developing, unique projects."
Mouthwatering though they may be, chef Rafal Walesa's gastronomic concoctions are only obliquely related to the products—but that's precisely the point. After all, one can only imagine that literal interpretations of, say, a radiator (there are actually three heating-related products in the show) or an urn might not be nearly as appetizing as the photogenic treats that were on view. (Note: The captioned images below alternate between food and product, with the dishes followed by the design that inspired them.)
Chocolate sponge cake is perhaps the ultimate comfort food
"Welna & Powietrze" armchair by Malafor (Agata Kulik-Pomorska & Pawel Pomorski)
Hard candy is intended to symbolize cast aluminum, while its lemon tea flavor conjures the contrast of heat on a cold winter day
"Pillou" radiator by None Grupa (Marta Szaban & Antoni Krzempek) for Terma
Red wine jelly offers a twist on a drink for a solemn occasion
"Tear Drop" by Aeon Form (Aleksander Bielawski, Robert Kowalczyk & Dominik Sedzicki)
Posted by erika rae
| 9 Apr 2014
Much like "The Uncomfortable Series" from KK Studio, San Francisco-based photographer Lawrie Brown's play on food design is a slightly unsettling look at the food we interact with on a daily basis. Her series—aptly named "Colored Food"—features all kinds of familiar cuisines covered in colorful latex paint. Blue chicken, green corn, cereal floating in a mysterious pink liquid—every single one zeros in on some nerve that I just can't place.
For those who were around—and heaven forbid, might have even enjoyed—Heinz's unfortunately named colored ketchup ("EZ Squirt"), this vibrant ice cream topping may bring back a few memories:
Of all the product designs people are willing to wait in line for, it's been demonstrated that iPhones, iPads and game consoles get a big "yes." But will people stand in line for something more mundane, like a cup?
They will if it was "designed" by Dominique Ansel, the NYC pastry chef famous for his queue-creating Cronuts. Following an announcement via Instagram by Ansel, Eater.com reports that the Frenchman recently tried his first Oreo; after learning that it was meant to be eaten with milk—"[not] a natural combination in French culture"—Ansel pushed the alien concept further, crafting a milk-holding cup from a cookie.
His resultant Chocolate Chip Cookie Milk Shots are going to be unveiled this Sunday at SXSW. And if his Cronut sales are any indication, the lines for these things will probably start somewhere north by northeast.
Is the Huffington Post written and edited by teenagers? I was surprised to see, making the social media rounds, an article touting a "new" packaging technology for ice cream: Ben & Jerry's Cores, which combine several flavors together in the same container, keeping each separate but contiguous. The unattributed writer breathlessly refers to it as "[a] new (mind-blowing/world peace-solving) concept," wonders "What will Ben & Jerry's think of next?" and states "we can't believe no one has thought of this yet."
Posted by Ray
| 7 Feb 2014
We're saving these pickles for the end, but you can skip ahead if you must.
...the slush-caked roads of the Greater Tri-state Area, that is. (Ok, that was a really cheesy, but take the puns with a grain of salt. You've been warned.)
We Polar Vortexans have been experiencing some technical difficulties lately. Unlike the proverbial perambulating pretzels, the roads are not getting a-salted, and it's a kind of a problem. Many of the hardest-hit states in the Midwest and Northeastern U.S. are running low on sodium, and Quartz notes that they may have to turn to an arguably less savory solution, such as "cheese brine and other dairy waste products."
Indeed, Gizmodo picked up on Modern Farmer's report on the win-win waste disposal practice last November. The smell, apparently, is an issue (though 'tis the season for nasal congestion anyway), but it's definitely a creative whey to solve two problems at once.
L: Lotsa Mozza; R: More on Milwaukee's industrial-strength cheese grater at the Journal-Sentinel.
Of course, cheese runoff is just one of the upcycled waste products that the National Geographic examines in their alt-de-icer round-up, which concludes with some DIY (De-Ice-Yourself, duh) tips. "You can easily try the brine or juice methods. Combine salt with molasses or beet juice from your grocery store, or that green liquid in pickle jars. Mix it all up, pour it into a spray bottle, and spray away. If all goes well, you will achieve maximum meltage with minimal salt."
Lo and behold, the folks across the Hudson had turned to last of those options, so to speak, some three years ago. As early as 2011, certain municipalities in northern New Jersey were substituting in "a briny mixture of salt and water that resembles pickle juice" for NaCl (a recipe for dis-ice-ter, if you will). At seven cents a gallon, it's difficult to determine how much money they'll save on $63/ton salt, not least because it's not clear how much of each it takes to deice, say, a mile of road. (According to the Times, NYC's Sanitation Department started the season with 250K tons of road salt and have used 346,112 tons so far; more on the cost savings below).
In any case, the CBS reporter's attempt is decidedly non-superlative:
Bergen County? More like gherkin county.
Posted by erika rae
| 29 Jan 2014
You might remember watching in awe as your grade school science teacher magically lit up an LED with a potato or three. There's not much to it—a natural acid serves as the electrolytic medium between a pair of terminals—but it's certainly a clever way to illustrate the basic principles of batteries and circuits. Now, photographer Caleb Charland is bringing back the science of natural batteries in a series of photos that might just evoke the same sense of wonder as those classroom demos from your childhood.
Back to Light, features daisy chains of fresh fruit basking in a glow of their power, so to speak. The apples and limes are a little more photogenic than the tubers that traditionally serve as the humble battery, but given his sense of composition, we'd bet that Charland could make potatoes look this good too. Since the long-exposure photographs are illuminated solely by their subject matter to make for a kind of autonomous still life, the light source is paramount; the arrangements are either backlit or clustered around the bulb, huddled together in quasi-ritualistic fashion powering small light sources.
The project is not only intriguing for highlighting the unusual use of fruit in an energy-giving sense, but also for fueling our curiosity about just how many citruses it would take to sustain household lights.