THAT’S THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES

Dr. Joe Schwarcz

Director
McGill University Office for Science and Society

Copyright © Joe Schwarcz, 2002

Published by ECW Press

2120 Queen Street East, Suite 200, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4E 1E2

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process - electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise - without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and ECW Press.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication data

Schwarcz, Joseph A.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles: 62 all-new commentaries

on the fascinating chemistry of everyday life / Joe Schwarcz.

ISBN 978-1-55022-520-4

QD37.S383 2002 540

Cover design: Guylaine Regimbald – Solo Design

Copy editor: Mary Williams

Production: Emma McKay

Interior design: Yolande Martel

Interior cartoons: Brian Gable

Author photo: Tony Laurinaitis

The publication of That’s the Way the Cookie Crumbles has been generously supported by the Canada Council, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program.

Funny thing, memory. Save for some vague recollections of pulleys, pumps, inclined planes, and a cute redheaded girl, my grade-nine science class is mostly a mental blur. But one little episode that occurred way back then did manage to etch itself indelibly in my mind. I remember asking Mr. Labcoat a question, the nature of which I have long forgotten, and being surprised by his rather curious answer. “That’s just the way the cookie crumbles,” he blurted out. I didn’t quite understand the reference to culinary chemistry, but I did understand that he had no ready answer and was unwilling to search for one.

These days, when I spend much of my day trying to answer people’s questions about science, that phrase uttered so many years ago often leaps to mind. There are two basic reasons for this. First, it is a great motivator to do the necessary research instead of offering up the easy, “cookie” answer. But it is also a constant reminder of the limitations of our scientific knowledge. Why do some people experience side effects from a medi-cation, while others do not? Why does cancer often seem to strike people who do everything right in terms of lifestyle and spare those who have a more cavalier attitude towards their health? Why do some people say that they sleep better with their feet pointed towards the magnetic North Pole? Why do they believe in such nonsense? We just don’t know. Sometimes, I guess, it’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

I’ve now been dealing with crumbling cookies, in a manner of speaking, for over twenty years. About two decades back, a couple of colleagues and I were approached to mount some sort of science display at the annual Man and His World exhibition, a descendant of Expo ’67, the hugely successful Montreal world’s fair. One of the demonstrations we featured was making polyurethane foam. This involved mixing two reagents in a cup, and it resulted in a mountain of foam — which, to the delight of young and old, quickly hardened into a mushroom-shaped blob. A really neat demo. We had a lot of fun with it until the proverbial fly fell into the ointment one Monday morning. I remember it well.

I picked up my newspaper and began to glance through it in the usual fashion. To my great surprise, the page 3 city column was all about our chemical escapades. It described how, in spite of the great public anxiety about urea-formaldehyde foam insulation, “some chemists” were brewing it up in front of a live audience and singing its praises. Well, that got me more than a little hot under the collar. True, there was concern at the time about urea-formaldehyde insulation, specifically about its potentially toxic formaldehyde content. But we were not dealing with urea-formaldehyde. We were demonstrating the properties of polyurethane, a distinctly different material. The only common feature was that these were both foams.

By nine o’clock that morning, I had delivered a letter to the newspaper, along with a large egg formulated out of polyurethane, which I suggested the columnist hang around his neck for penance. After all, he had laid a large egg by not appreciating the difference between urea-formaldehyde and polyurethane. His misunderstanding, I went on to say, had undoubtedly created unnecessary concerns. Much to his credit, the columnist wrote a retraction, explaining that the real problem was his lack of scientific education, which had caused him to leap to inappropriate conclusions. I was satisfied and thought the issue closed. But then I got a call from a local radio station asking if I would like to comment on this controversy, which of course was really a noncontroversy. The people at the station must have liked the way I explained the matter, because a couple of weeks later they again asked me to go on the air and discuss some chemistry-related issue that had arisen. Soon, this evolved into a series of spots, eventually leading to a regular weekly phone-in show entitled
The Right Chemistry
, which continues to this day.

The radio program spawned requests to give public lectures and make television appearances, as well as invitations to write newspaper columns and books. In 1999, these efforts culminated in the establishment of the McGill University Office for Chemistry and Society. The goal of this unique venture is to increase the general public’s understanding of, and appreciation for, science. Now expanded and renamed, the Office for Science and Society aims to provide accurate, unbiased scientific information on various issues of public concern and welcomes all kinds of queries about scientific matters, particularly as they pertain to daily life.

Interacting in this fashion with the public over so many years has been a fascinating, exciting, fulfilling, and sometimes frustrating experience. Above all, it has afforded insight into the public’s fears, concerns, hopes, and dreams, both rational and irrational. Anyone involved in this business quickly realizes that there are numerous misconceptions about science out there that need to be addressed. It has also become painfully clear that whenever science cannot provide an adequate answer, charlatans rush in to fill the void. This volume — like its predecessors,
Radar, Hula Hoops, and Playful Pigs
, and
The
Genie in the Bottle
— aims to educate and entertain the reader with up-to-date, readily understandable commentaries designed not only to help develop a feel for the workings of science, but also to provide some of the background needed to separate sense from nonsense. And there’s plenty of down-to-earth, practical scientific information here as well. You’ll learn how to remove stains from clothes, how to lower your cholesterol with oats, how to make “oobleck” — and you’ll discover why the cookie crumbles.

I look forward to my Friday mornings. That’s when I spend an hour and a half conversing with the public on CJAD Radio in Montreal. The idea behind the show is for me to provide reliable scientific information, answer questions about current concerns, and attempt to clear up some of the mysteries that permeate daily life. But the show is an education for me, as well. For over twenty years, it has allowed me to monitor the pulse of the population and gain a glimpse into its psyche. I have been pleased by callers who have made unusual scientific observations, elated by those with intriguing questions, and frustrated by the occasional demonstration of scientific illiteracy. I have also come to realize that people are burdened with numerous fears, both rational and irrational. And I have learned not to be surprised. Shocked, maybe — but never surprised.

“How do you wash microwaves out of socks?” one caller queried. I didn’t quite know what to make of this. Quickly, though, we established that he was not worried about having trodden on some stray microwaves, but he had heard about a device being marketed to reduce the risks of cell phone use. First of all, we need to understand that there is very little scientific evidence to suggest that cell phones are dangerous, other than to those who use them while driving. But that has not stopped the inventive marketers. They’ve come up with a socklike device that one places over the phone to absorb the “harmful microwaves.” The instructions that come along with this gem apparently instruct the user to launder the sock regularly to “wash out the radiation.” Total nonsense.

Microwaves are a form of energy, and they can indeed be absorbed by materials. After all, that’s how microwave ovens work. Moisture absorbs the waves, energizing the water molecules. They move around more rapidly, and it is this motion that we sense as heat. But microwaves cannot be stored in a substance for later release. It seems, though, that this contention is not restricted to scam artists who want to protect us from cell phones. A listener once called to ask how long one should allow microwaved food to stand after cooking to “allow the microwaves to escape.” Obviously, this person had been reading her microwave cookbook, which would have advised her to allow microwaved food to stand briefly before serving it. This is common practice, necessary to complete the cooking process. Contrary to what many think, microwaves do not penetrate food deeply. The exterior of the food in question is easily heated, but the inside cooks through heat transfer by conduction. That’s why the food must stand for a few minutes. It has nothing to do with allowing vagrant microwaves to escape.

Microwaves are not the only form of radiation causing undue concern. A terribly agitated caller was worried because after being x-rayed she was asked to take the films to her physician herself. She had heard all about exposure to x-rays being dangerous and thought that by carrying the films she was “exposing” herself.

Since the infamous date of 9/11, a number of people have asked about wearing clothes that have gone through x-ray scanners at airports. They are concerned that these items may become radioactive and pose a risk to their health. Excessive exposure to x-rays can certainly be risky, but x-rayed items do not store and reemit radiation. Unfortunately, just a mention of the word
radiation
is often enough to alarm people.

A gentleman wanted to know what the safest way was to dispose of a broken compact-disc player. I didn’t realize what he was getting at until he asked whether a laser was a form of radiation, which of course it is. Radiation is nothing more than the propagation of energy through space. Turn on a light and you are exposed to radiation. The caller knew that CD players use a laser, and since lasers produce radiation, there had to be some risk. The laser beam in a CD player is just a special type of light beam that poses no danger at all, and it is only emitted when the device is on. So old CD players can be safely discarded. But old laminated pictures may be a different story.

I had to address this issue when a caller asked if it was safe to burn a laminated picture in her fireplace. It turned out that she had been recently divorced and wanted no reminders of her former spouse. Burning his picture seemed appropriate, but she had heard that laminated photos were mounted on particleboard glued together with urea-formaldehyde resin. She was worried that the heat would release formaldehyde, which she had heard was toxic. Indeed, formaldehyde is a problematic substance, but the amount released in this particular combustion process would be too little to cause concern. Still, I suggested that if she was still worried, she could hang on to the picture until the next hazardous waste collection took place in her municipality. She liked that idea — she told me that “hazardous waste” was an excellent description of her former mate.

Then there was the listener who wanted to know if lighting a match was a good way to get rid of the smell of natural gas in a house. That question prompted me to launch into a lecture on a common misunderstanding about gas. Natural gas, I said, is just methane, and methane has no smell. That’s why odiferous compounds are added to make sure that gas leaks are readily detected. I explained that soot from a burning match could absorb small amounts of smelly compounds, but, I added somewhat smugly, it was not a good idea to go around striking matches in a house that could be filled with methane. It was then that the caller sheepishly informed me he knew all that, but the “natural gas” he was talking about was more likely to be found in the bathroom than in the kitchen. It was I, not he, who had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Like I said, my Friday mornings are interesting.