Most people looking for a good love apple “end up with crap,” a researcher says.
Many of the tomatoes eaten these days are too big, too firm and just plain dull compared with those from a half-century ago, according to new research.
In a paper published Thursday in the journal Science, a team of researchers say they analyzed the genetic code of nearly 400 varieties of tomatoes ― from the common red supermarket types to the funky heirlooms found in farmers markets. Led by Harry J. Klee, a professor of horticultural sciences at the University of Florida, the team found many of this generation’s tomatoes have lost key elements that make them taste, well, like a tomato.
To know what makes a good love apple, Klee said, you really have to understand three things that go into the vegetable’s flavor profile: sugar for sweetness, acid for the sour tang, and dozens of “volatiles,” or aroma compounds, that make up the euphoric, tomatoey scent.
“The tomato is unlike some fruits and vegetables in that there’s no one compound that I’d give you that you’d smell and say, ‘that’s tomato.’ Bananas, strawberries I could give you one compound and you’d know,” he said. “You’ve got sugars providing the sweetness, you’ve got acids counterbalancing and 25 or more volatile chemicals that are the aroma of the tomato. Without those you have no flavor, it’d just be completely bland.”
Unfortunately, Klee and his team found, vegetable breeders have grown varieties of tomatoes over the past few decades that are big and firm (and great for shipping), but missing many of these aroma compounds that make for a good bruschetta. Klee said what may have started as the loss of one volatile here and another there quickly cascaded into a flavorless, bland orb not worth its salt.
“If you compare tomato flavor to a symphony orchestra ... you’ve got a piece of music where you’ve got all these different parts to it. If you remove one or two instruments, it still sounds pretty much the same,” he said. “If you slowly remove instruments you might even be fooled that it’s still good, but over time you say ‘wait a minute, it’s just not right.’”
One big exception to the sad state of the average beefsteak is the resurgence of so-called heirloom varieties seen in farmers markets and upscale grocery stores. Those vegetables are often grown using generations-old seeds, selected for their flavor above all else. But they come at a premium.
Klee said a well-known, flavorful variety, the Campari tomato, can cost nearly four times the price of a regular tomato in his state of Florida. However, “most people aren’t willing to pay that difference,” he said, and “they end up with crap.”
All is not lost, however.
Researchers say most breeders haven’t had access to expensive equipment that can gauge the tastiness of a tomato. Using the new data, farmers can opt to plant vegetables prized for their flavor, rather than appearance, and expand on a $2 billion annual market for the product in the U.S. alone.
“We can easily push it back that 50 years and recapture a good deal of the flavor without compromising the modern tomato at all,” Klee said. “It’ll be much, much better than what’s out there today.”
We're pretty much obsessed with make-ahead meals at Pillsbury, so we created this cheesy Mexican-inspired casserole specifically to be a freezer-friendly dinner. (We've even included instructions for baking it straight from the freezer as well as defrosting it first.) So whether you make it for dinner tonight or prep it now for a time-saving freezer meal later, you're guaranteed delicious results.
Ingredients
1 lb lean (at least 80%) ground beef
1 package (1 oz) Old El Paso™ 25% less sodium taco seasoning mix
2/3 cup water
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch strips
2 3/4 cups salsa
1 package (12 oz) frozen whole kernel sweet corn
6 Old El Paso™ flour tortillas for soft tacos & fajitas (6 inch)
2 cups shredded Colby-Monterey Jack cheese blend (8 oz)
Steps
Heat oven to 350°F. In 12-inch skillet, cook beef over medium-high heat 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thoroughly cooked; drain. Stir in taco seasoning mix, water and bell pepper strips. Simmer 3 to 4 minutes, stirring frequently, until thickened. Stir in salsa and corn.
Spray 13x9-inch (3-quart) baking dish with cooking spray. Cut tortillas in half; place 6 tortilla halves in bottom of baking dish.
Top with half of beef mixture (about 3 1/2 cups). Sprinkle with 3/4 cup of the cheese and remaining tortilla halves. Top with remaining beef mixture and cheese.
Spray piece of foil large enough to cover baking dish with cooking spray. Cover baking dish with foil sprayed side down. Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until heated through and cheese is melted.
To Make Ahead:Wrap foil-covered casserole in double layer of plastic wrap; label and freeze up to 3 months.
To thaw and bake:Thaw overnight or until completely thawed in refrigerator. Remove plastic wrap. Bake 1 hour to 1 hour 10 minutes or until center is hot (165°F) and cheese is melted.
To bake from freezer (no thawing):Heat oven to 350°F. Remove plastic. Bake 1 hour 30 minutes to 1 hour 40 minutes or until center is hot (165°F) and cheese is melted.
Transform taco night with this fun, easy and delicious pasta dish.
Ingredients
1
lb lean (at least 80%) ground beef
1
package (1 oz) Old El Paso™ 25% less sodium taco seasoning mix
2/3
cup water
1
red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch strips
2 3/4
cups salsa
1
package (12 oz) frozen whole kernel sweet corn
6
Old El Paso™ flour tortillas for soft tacos & fajitas (6 inch)
2
cups shredded Colby-Monterey Jack cheese blend (8 oz)
Steps
Heat oven to 350°F. Cook and drain pasta shells as directed on box.
Meanwhile, in 12-inch nonstick skillet, cook beef over medium-high heat 5 minutes, stirring frequently, until thoroughly cooked; drain. Add taco seasoning mix, crushed tomatoes and 1 cup of the shredded cheese; stir well until cheese is melted.
Fill each pasta shell with about 1 tablespoon beef mixture; place in ungreased 13x9-inch (3-quart) glass baking dish. Top filled shells with plum tomatoes and chopped cilantro; sprinkle with remaining 1 cup cheese.
Bake 15 to 20 minutes or until heated through and cheese is melted. Serve warm.
Expert Tips
If you prefer more heat, try some chopped jalapeños on your shells.
Ground turkey is a great substitute for ground beef in this dish.
The competition for the best cannoli in New England is never ending…but what about in the form of a taco? Deep fried and filled with the creamy goodness that you know and love, these Cannoli Mini Taco Boats™ will impress friends at your next get-together.
Prep Time : 60 min
Total Time :60 min Servings : 12
Ingredients
1 container (15 oz) whole-milk ricotta cheese
1/4 cup heavy whipping cream
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
Vegetable oil for deep frying
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 package Old El Paso™ Taco Boats™ mini soft flour tortillas
6 teaspoons miniature semisweet chocolate chips
Fresh mint leaves, if desired
Preparation
Step 1. In medium bowl, beat ricotta cheese, whipping cream, powdered sugar, vanilla and orange peel with electric mixer on medium speed until creamy. Cover and refrigerate.
Step 2 Meanwhile, in deep fryer or 3-quart heavy-bottomed pot, heat at least 2 inches oil to 350°F. In 1-gallon resealable food-storage plastic bag, add granulated sugar and cinnamon.
Step 3 Place boats in batches in preheated oil; fry 1 minute on each side, using tongs to turn boats halfway through, until lightly brown all over. Drain boats upside down on paper towel-lined cookie sheet until slightly cool; toss 4 boats at a time in cinnamon sugar mixture to coat. Remove to cooling rack to cool completely.
Step 4 Just before serving, remove filling from refrigerator, and fill decorating bag fitted with large piping star tip. Pipe filling into cooled boats, and sprinkle with chocolate chips. Top with mint leaves. Serve immediately. Store any remaining filled boats in refrigerator.
To customize this pasta bake, try adding any of your other favorite pizza toppings, such as baby spinach, sliced mushrooms or sliced ripe olives.
Ingredients
1 box (16 oz) penne pasta
2 jars (24 oz each) chunky marinara sauce
1 cup sliced pepperoni (from 6-oz package)
1 bag (16 oz) frozen cooked Italian-style meatballs (32 meatballs)
2 cups water
1 package (8 oz) shredded Italian cheese blend (2 cups)
Steps
Heat oven to 350°F. Spray 13 x 9-inch (3-quart) baking dish with cooking spray. In baking dish, mix all ingredients except cheese; mix well. Cover with foil.
Bake 55 to 60 minutes or until pasta is tender. Uncover; sprinkle with cheese. Bake uncovered 8 to 10 minutes or until cheese is melted.
Expert Tips
To customize this pasta bake, try adding any of your other favorite pizza toppings, such as baby spinach, sliced mushrooms or sliced ripe olives.
Any of your favorite marinara or pasta sauces can be substituted for the chunky marinara sauce in this recipe.
Photo of Jordan Peele taken by Cullen Tobin for Vanity Fair
Jordan Peele has four more social thriller films in the making.
In an interview with Business Insider the Get Out director said that his recently-released directorial debut is the first of five social thrillers he plans on creating.
“I have four other social thrillers that I want to unveil in the next decade…The best and scariest monsters in the world are human beings and what we are capable of especially when we get together,” Peele said. “I’ve been working on these premises about these different social demons, these innately human monsters that are woven into the fabric of how we think and how we interact, and each one of my movies is going to be about a different one of these social demons.”
Get Out has been both a commercial and critical success, with the film having an impressive $30.5 million debut.
“The psychology of blackness is important in Get Out,” our very own Elijah Watson writes. “We see protagonist Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) have to address a trauma experienced as a child that he has yet to come to terms with, as well as his ongoing paranoia as he begins to realize that the affluent and white neighborhood his girlfriend Rose Armitage’s (Allison Williams) family resides in, isn’t what it seems to be. He laughs off his worries until he no longer can, the real motives of this secluded community unraveled until the movie’s end.”
“…This is what makes Get Out fascinating and why it can only work as what it is. Horror often speaks to its audience psychologically and is an extreme (of sorts) in what we often associate with the genre (gore, violence). Here, we see that extreme used to comment on something very real and extreme in its own right — the black experience in America.”
In honor of its 40th anniversary, we celebrate the greatest hockey movie of all time – and one the best "malaise days" Seventies films ever
Happy 40th anniversary, 'Slap Shot'! Why the greatest hockey movie of all time captures the 1970s better than any other sports movie.
Over the last few decades – thanks in part to movies and TV shows like Dazed and Confused, Boogie Nights, Anchorman and HBO's Vinyl – there’s been a pronounced pop cultural tendency to reduce the 1970s to little more than a fabulous parade of campy signifiers like mirrored disco balls, brightly-painted muscle cars, platform shoes, bellbottomed jeans, tube tops, Afro hairdos, pornstaches and piles of cocaine.
It's an understandable impulse, of course. (Who doesn't love Afros or piles of cocaine?) But taking such a superficial approach to the seventies means glossing over the grittier, grimier and more soulful aspects of a decade that was marked as much by socio-economic upheaval and spiritual dislocation as it was by debauchery and decadence. There's a scene early on in Slap Shot – George Roy Hill's brilliant hockey comedy, released 40 years ago on February 25th, 1977 – that may be one of the most quintessentially "seventies" things ever committed to celluloid, even though there's nary a groovy shag carpet or white three-piece suit anywhere in sight. Minor league hockey players Reggie Dunlop (Paul Newman) and Ned Braden (Michael Ontkean) walk along a dreary street in front of the local steel mill, arguing about what the factory's just-announced shutdown is going to mean for their team and their town.
"What are these poor fuckers going to do when they close the mill?" wonders Braden. "10,000 mill workers will be placed on waivers. Every sucker for himself, I guess." Ned's wife Lily (Lindsay Crouse) then brings the conversation to a halt by drunkenly roaring up in a dingy 1971 Ford Econoline van. Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" is blasting from the radio, and she fixes her husband with a glare as toxic as the fumes rising from the mill's smoke stacks. "Will you ever win?" Stevie Nicks asks, and there were quite a few blue-collar workers during the Nixon/Ford/Carter years who were asking themselves the same question.
Four decades ago, Slap Shot didn't fare particularly well with the moviegoers or critics of the day, many of whom took issue with the film’s violence and raunchy humor — the very things, of course, that would make the film a belated cult hit with viewers who soon discover it on VHS and cable. Nowadays, it's rightly considered a sports-movie classic, and it’s hard to find a self-respecting hockey fan who can't rattle off a few choice lines from the Hanson Brothers — the child-like goons played by professional hockey players David Hanson, Jeff Carlson and Steve Carlson — at the slightest provocation. But there’s far more to this near-perfect puck opera than bloody brawls or sidesplitting antics. No other sports film of the 1970s so brilliantly captures the downbeat look and feel of its era, while also realistically rendering the lives of its subjects, both on the field (or ice, in this case) and off.
Much of its innate authenticity is due to an excellent script by Nancy Dowd, who based the story (and its eyebrow-singeing dialogue) on her brother Ned's brief career as a minor league hockey player. Her sibling, who makes a brief appearance in the film as the dreaded enforcer Ogie Ogilthorpe, played for the Johnstown Jets of the North American Hockey League; at his sister's behest, he often set up a tape recorder in the Jets' locker room and on team bus rides, in order to capture the hilarious off-color repartee of his teammates. While Slap Shot's violence is certainly reminiscent of the brutal brand of play that characterized the NHL during the mid-1970s – as epitomized by the ruthless Philadelphia Flyers, a.k.a. the "Broad Street Bullies" – all of the film's fight scenes, even the one where the Hansons charge into the crowd in search of a guy who hit one of them with a set of keys, were based on actual incidents involving the Jets.
But Dowd's script also accurately depicts the crushing tedium of life in the minors. Slap Shot’s Charlestown Chiefs spend most of their downtime in seedy dives, diners and motel rooms, watching game shows or soap operas while drinking away their boredom and dreaming of better things. (In the words of Brad Sullivan’s delightfully sleazy Morris Wanchuk, "Here's to all that gorgeous snatch in F-L-A!") The Chiefs' wives have it even worse; at least their husbands get to work out their frustrations on the ice. As Shirley Upton (Swoosie Kurtz) puts it, "I only drink in the afternoon. Or before a game. Or when Johnny's away."
While some of Slap Shot's characters are undeniably cartoonish, others clearly reflect how Americans were grappling issues of personal identity and self-fulfillment in the wake of the sexual revolution, the feminist movement and the psychedelic awakening of the 1960s. A decade earlier, a woman like Lily Braden probably wouldn't have given a second thought to following her husband from Princeton University to a small working-class city like the fictional Charlestown, Pennsylvania. But with the U.S. divorce rate spiking hard at that point, she would have certainly given serious thought to leaving her husband rather than endure another stifling season as a hockey wife. And then there's Chiefs player Dave "Killer" Carlson (Jerry Houser), who's completely down with Dunlop's new strategy of provoking fights, yet also finds inspiration and peace in the "positive-thinking" records of Swami Baha – a riff on the self-actualization cults like EST and the Source Family that were massively popular during the 1970s.
Dowd's script alone would have made for a compelling movie, but it's George Roy Hill's direction that really puts Slap Shot over the top. Hill had previously worked with Newman on 1969's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and 1973's The Sting (which netted him an Oscar for Best Director); he had a decided flair for telling stories about outsiders, and for getting the most out of sharply-written dialogue. But he was also a stickler for realism, even in a sports comedy, and did much of the shooting in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where Ned Dowd had played for the Jets. Hill makes the most of Johnstown's stark industrial landscape, as well as its depressed downtown – where the lone movie theater is showing Deep Throat – and its cheerless Cambria County War Memorial Arena, where much of the hockey action takes place. It's utterly believable that local fans would come to Chiefs games less for the hockey than to blow off steam, or that they'd become galvanized by Dunlop’s decision to refashion the team as a stick-swinging goon squad; likewise, it makes perfect sense that the Chiefs would be revitalized by their followers' newfound enthusiasm.
David Hanson, Steven Carlson and Jeff Carlson (as the Hansen Brothers), 1977
In casting the players, Hill insisted on using actors who could actually skate. Al Pacino was originally up for the role of Reggie Dunlop, but was offended that the director seemed more concerned with his agility on the ice than his acting chops. Nick Nolte, Harrison Ford, John Travolta, Tommy Lee Jones, Kurt Russell and Richard Gere also auditioned for various parts in the film; none of them skated well enough to qualify. Ontkean, who had been a star Right Wing at the University of New Hampshire, was perfect for the role of the former college star who wants to play clean, "old time hockey," but Hill also upped the verisimilitude factor by hiring actual hockey players – guys who could not only skate and handle a stick, but could also be shown removing their dentures before hitting the rink. The Hanson characters were actually based on brothers Jeff and Steve Carlson (their third brother, Jack, opted out of filming because his team was in the playoffs at the time, and had to be replaced by Jets player Dave Hanson). Opposing goons Clarence "Screaming Buffalo" Swamptown and Ross "Mad Dog" Madison were respectively portrayed by Joe Nolan and Connie "Mad Dog" Madigan, professional players whose real-life reputations were as fearsome as those of their characters.
During the last decades of his life, Paul Newman repeatedly name-checked Dunlop as one of his favorite roles, and it's easy to understand why. Though not especially talented as a player or a coach, our foul-mouthed hero managed to hang on thanks to a combination of looks, charm and guile, and he has to utilize every bit of those attributes if he’s going to achieve his aims. In short, he's got to keep the Chiefs from folding, keep his team's winning streak alive and keep his ex-wife from leaving town. The team may be little more than a tax write-off for its ownership, but hockey is Dunlop's life. Despite his protestations that he’s "got nothing to worry about," he knows deep down that he's aging and running out of options.
Newman digs into Dunlop's profane dialogue like a hungry man devouring a steak, but the appeal of his performance goes well beyond, "Damn, Paul Newman is talking shit!" The moment where Coach first realizes that the fans have been fired up by the Hansons' goonery is a thing of subtle beauty, communicated solely via a goofy grin and the crazed gleam in his baby-blue eyes. It's one thing to play the guy as an go-get-'em Knute Rockne type or a grizzled misanthrope, but the movie star plays him as a mediocre leader; only the Hansons are dim enough to be pumped up by his boilerplate pep talks. For all of his "clever" attempts at manipulating the team, its owner and the local media, the only person who’s totally fooled by Dunlop is Dunlop himself.
Rowdy, raunchy, hilarious, absurd, deeply depressing and profoundly human – often all at the same time – Slap Shot is refreshingly devoid of phony uplift or showy monologues. There's no jerking of tears or pulling of heartstrings, no big lessons to be learned beyond the harsh reminder that sports is a business; the passion of its fans and the heroics of its players are ultimately less important than the clang of the cash register. It's the rare combination of both team-spirit uplift and period-appropriate downer. Even hailing from a decade with no shortage of competition (The Bad News Bears, Rocky, Brian’s Song, North Dallas Forty, Bang the Drum Slowly, etc.), Slap Shot remains the greatest sports flick of the 1970s – and we'll gladly "put on the foil" and duke it out with anyone who says otherwise.
