Liberty cabbage â Feedbackâs cure for bird flu
OUR main theme this week is cabbage â and a saga of devotion to the truth even when it flies in the face of sacred symbols of national identity.
Last year Korean scientists reported that their national dish, the spicy fermented cabbage called kimchi, cured infected chickens of bird flu. Those who know the depths of passion and loyalty with which Koreans regard the dish, which they regularly polish off three times a day, were hardly surprised. But now, in a flourish of disinterested reductionism, scientists at Seoul National University report that it is not just kimchi that cures. Sauerkraut â cabbage fermented anaerobically in brine, but without the garlic, chilli and Korean identity â has the same healing power.
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To those who doubt the whole story, we offer this observation. In Both Korea and Japan, where kimchi has become a chic food in recent years, there have recently been outbreaks of bird flu in poultry, but no human cases of the disease. Coincidence? Considerably better animal hygiene than elsewhere in the region? Or cabbage? You be the judge.
But this indicates a gloomy prognosis for the Anglo-Saxon world, where fermented cabbage is widely regarded with horror and only indulged in as a topping for hot dogs or Reuben sandwiches by a few reckless eccentrics. Are anglos to be felled by a bird flu pandemic because they are unable to bring themselves to sample even a French choucroute in the interests of survival?
âDavid Lake was given a life membership card for the Royal Zoological Society of South Australia. On it were the words: âLife Member. Expires 30/06/2006â. âShould I be worried?â Lake asks.â
History, as ever, comes to the rescue. There are perfectly good precedents for anglos to eat sauerkraut. During the first world war, when Woodrow Wilson was whipping Americans into a frenzy of anti-German fervour, sauerkraut â a common dish in the US, given that Germans were the nationâs second largest ethnic group at the time â was not banned. It was instead renamed âliberty cabbageâ, rather as French fries became freedom fries during the recent Franco-American tiff over Iraq. Back in 1917, red-blooded Americans would no sooner have given up their kraut than their fries (which, by the way, are Belgian). And you would have had a job getting that quintessential British hero Captain James Cook to give up sauerkraut. He insisted upon it, with its remarkable levels of vitamin C, to save his crew from scurvy. Seems the nickname for Brits shouldnât have been âlimeysâ after all.
But those timid souls who really canât face the noble kraut have other survival options. The Korean scientists say it is lactobacilli, the bacteria that create the tangy sourness and preserve the pickle, that see off the virus. So there should be lots of other potential anti-flu foods about, from properly fermented buttermilk to Kosher garlic dills (the all-salt kind, none of this vinegar nonsense). Maybe it wasnât the chicken soup that deserved the name âJewish penicillinâ, but the plate of pickles sitting next to it.
FINALLY, to amazon.com in search of a book. We end up ordering it second-hand, but receive this message from Ian at Still Water Books: âVery sorry, this book sold earlier today. A suddenly very popular book!â
The book is Children Solve Problems, a 1972 work by Edward de Bono that includes young peopleâs suggestions for improvements to the human body. Which are, as chance would have it, what we seek for the Feedback seasonal competition.
Far be it from us to suspect that this sudden popularity has anything to do with readers cribbing. Especially not from a book which we shall soon, by hook or by crook, have to hand. All Feedback readers are, we know, as honest as the day is long and, above all, intelligently alert to the possibility of not getting away with it.
So donât forget to send your (entirely original) ideas on the potential for âdesigner bodiesâ raised by current advances in biotechnology. How would you modify the human body if you were not restricted in any way?
You may send in up to three suggestions by email, post or fax. Those judged the most witty â and original â will win. All replies must reach us by Monday 5 December and the results will be published in New ĐÓ°ÉÔ´´âs end-of-year issue (24 December/31 December). The editorâs decision, as always, is final.
Thanks to the generosity of the Royal Society, 10 lucky winners will each receive copies of all six books shortlisted for the Royal Societyâs Aventis Prize for Science Books 2005, including the prizewinner: Critical Mass: How one thing leads to another by Philip Ball (William Heinemann). The books were all reviewed by Jon Turney (7 May, p 48). Our thanks go again to Akram Najjar for the competition idea.