FEATURES December 4, 2012
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How are calories in food measured? The beginning of the end By Kate Lindsley Contributor
In the past 100 years, the primary method of measuring calories has not changed course. The Atwater method uses classical knowledge about how food is metabolized via fats, protein and carbohydrates. According to this system, there are nine calories per gram of fat, four calories per gram of protein, four calories per gram of carbohydrate and seven calories per gram of alcohol. Then, food companies identify the amount of carbohydrates, fats and protein in their foods and add together the total amount of calories. Fairly simple process, yes? Nope. Back when Wilbur Olin Atwater pioneered the technique of respiration calorimetry, it was breaking science. Previous experiments had only been conducted on animals, but thanks to Atwater, we learned what food calories mean in human terms. The math equations and methods have simple roots. Metabolized energy is equal to gross food energy minus whatever is secreted (via feces, urine, gas, et cetera). However, current availability of subjects and advanced technology calls for an overhaul of theancient experimental basis for these commonly understood values. According to Martin Wickham of Leatherhead Food Research, these standard caloric values can be reestablished. Wickham also says that in the past 100 years, we have learned that different foods have different structures. One example of this is plant verse animal foods. Plant foods have cell walls that take extra energy to break down. However, their fats, protein and carbohydrates are treated the same as these macronutrients that come from animal sources in the Atwater system of calorie prediction. In a study conducted by Janet Novotny, Sarah
ILLUSTRATION BY CASEY KLEEB
Gebauer and David Baer in July 2012, the researchers found a 32 percent overestimation of calories coming from almonds using the Atwater technique compared to laboratory experimentation of human metabolism. Knowing that there can be such a huge discrepancy between food labels and what we actually get out of food can seem unsettling. However, eating correct portions and focusing on consuming necessary vitamins and minerals is what truly leads to a balanced diet. Fussing about calories here and there is a stressful practice, and unless you have access to a metabolism laboratory, it will be impossible to determine the precise amount of calories in everything you eat. It is unlikely that there will be an overhaul on food labels; the good still inherent in the Atwater model outweighs manpower and the price it would take to investigate each food’s honest caloric contribution.
ILLUSTRATION BY CASEY KLEEB
By Evan Dodd Contributor
“Where the hell is all the snow?” This was my first thought upon touching down on the runway at 5 a.m. As I gingerly exited the plane I found myself shivering and mouthing the words, “Dear God, why?” This was quickly followed by some creative phrases that are unprintable in a wholesome-ish college newspaper. You see, I’ve spent the last two weeks lounging on the beaches of Maui. Hawaii, for those of you who missed the memo, is a magical place filled with water, light, happiness and several other things rarely seen in Alaska. Coincidentally it was also where the world’s greatest television show, “Lost,” was filmed. This is a fact that I subtly mentioned to my exasperated family no less than 42 times. While most of Alaska was furiously chipping ice off of their turkey dinners, I was snorkeling with sea turtles and moray eels. Not a bad way to spend Thanksgiving. But spending all of that time in a tropic paradise has made me question my decision to stay here. And by “question” I mean that I plan to run, screaming into the frigid night the first chance I get. I realize in a previous column that I may have mentioned that the good parts of living in Alaska outweighed the bad. That was stupid and wrong. I have to assume that I was being held at gunpoint while writing that piece, and I’d like to take this time to hereby retract that statement. So I’ve decided I hate it here. I hate the howling wind, the blistering cold, the injuryinducing darkness. I especially loathe that awful, icy tingling that accompanies venturing outside after forgetting to zip your fly. “Icy and refreshing” are great adjectives to describe toothpaste,
not so much for the state of your engine room. In fact, the entire concept of having to suffer nine months out of the year is completely backward to me. Our ancestors migrated thousands of miles with the sole purpose of avoiding scenarios such as this. But I like to think that we’ve evolved a bit since then; at the very least, we should have learned to avoid climates that make us miserable. My point is that Alaska is quickly losing the charm that its built up over the last twenty years. Sure, we get two whole weeks of summer and a brief spring haven for winter sports, but is it really worth suffering through the rest of the year? I mean, hell, this place doesn’t even have a Red Lobster! And I understand that many of us stick around, mesmerized by the northern lights or the PFD money used to bribe us into staying here. But that’s just not enough for me anymore. I’m out. I’ll be spending the rest of my days on an island somewhere, searching for mysterious hatches and polar bears, hopefully whilst drinking pitchers of Red Stripe, if I’m there after I hit 21. No more trudging back and forth through snow all day to get to my classes. No more confusing sunset with sunrise at 1 in the afternoon. Especially no more waking up twenty minutes early to have time to painstakingly chip frost off my windshield to avoid hitting pedestrians. Granted, I have been known to sleep in and drive to class with my head out the window, but that’s beside the point. So this is it, I’ve decided. I’m leaving the state. I don’t know how, when, or where to, and I damn sure don’t know how any of this fits with my life goals or academic career. But that Thanksgiving trip to Hawaii has completely convinced me of two things: I was never meant to leave. I have to go back.