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Food and drink: Them almonds are smokin’!

Unlocking the hazy mysteries of two key flavours — and a great snack

At last, two of what were to me food-life's greater mysteries have been unraveled.

The first: why is it that marzipan is made from almonds but tastes nothing like them? Likewise almond flavouring and all the things made from it - delicious stollen, that retro bar favourite, amaretto, and those tiny "almond-flavoured" Italian cookies, amaretti. None of them taste like almonds!

The second: what the heck is liquid smoke and is eating it as reckless as it sounds? Also, does it have anything to do with an all-time favourite linked to the above, namely, smoked almonds?

Finding the life-changing answers to such epic questions, as is so often the case, was pretty basic, in fact an accident. I was looking for something else entirely when, lo, here were puzzles solved, quests fulfilled in the pages of one good book: Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking .

To answer the first mystery, all of the above are made with wild or bitter almonds - or are flavoured with almond extract, which is made from same. Ergo they all boast that distinctive, heady flavour quite unlike that of the delicately flavoured "sweet" almonds we eat by the handful.

Wild or bitter almonds, which we seldom cross paths with here in North America, are so bitter that you wouldn't want to eat a whole one. Never mind, because they have a system of defense that kicks in when the nutmeat or kernel is damaged, generating hydrogen cyanide, which is both bitter and toxic. If a youngster ate two or three bitter almonds at one sitting, it could be fatal.

Deadly but delightful, you could say, for it's the cyanide production that also produces benzaldehyde, a volatile molecule that constitutes the essence of that distinctive wild or bitter almond flavouring. It also contributes to the aromas of cherry, apricot, plum and peach - all close relatives of the almond.

In Europe, wild or bitter almonds are used like a spice and added sparingly to flavour the likes of marzipan and amaretto. The same compound also flavours apricot and peach kernels, which are equally bitter and toxic.

How many kids have been tricked by biting into an apricot, finding the kernel split open, and gobbling up the "almond" they thought they discovered inside? Initially it seems as delightful as finding their first toy inside a Kinder egg. Then, blah, they can't spit it out fast enough!

Still, in Germany, a variety of marzipan, called persipan, is made with apricot and peach kernels - cheaper than the almond-based paste but with a similar flavour. And, no, apricot kernels won't help you beat cancer - that laetrile myth was debunked years ago.

Almonds, by the way, are the most highly traded nut in the world. But trade patterns and supply will be impacted enormously with climate change, as warmer winters, especially in areas like Spain, Portugal and California, will mean that trees like the almond won't be snapped out of dormancy to produce nuts or fruit. And if we get many more wild fires in these regions, the term "smoked almonds" will take on a whole new meaning.

As for liquid smoke, we've had a bottle of the stuff gathering dust at the back of the cupboard for years.

Turns out wood smoke, the real thing, is a double-edged sword: it's both a preservative, as in smoked trout and smoked ham hocks that keep very nicely, thank you very much, without a fridge or a cooler in sight. That, according to McGee, is due to formaldehyde and acetic acid (vinegar) and other organic acids that make the pH factor of smoke 2.5 - one very unfriendly to microbes. Many of the phenolic compounds in wood smoke are also antimicrobials and antioxidants, so they slow down the development of rancid flavours. Plus phenol itself is a strong disinfectant.

That's the good stuff, and now for the bad: Wood smoke contains PAHs - polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, if you want the full name.

PAHs are proven carcinogens formed from all of the wood components in increasing amounts as the temperature of the burning wood rises. So here's a health tip for all you wood-smokin' barbecue fiends - hot-burning mesquite wood generates twice as many PAHs as slow-cookin' hickory wood does. Which do you choose?

As for that liquid smoke in a bottle, it just might be your answer if you're a lover of smoke-flavoured dishes and don't want to mess with the bad stuff. McGee explains that smoke consists of two phases: microscopic droplets that make it visible as a haze - like all the smoke that's been flooding Whistler Valley and environs lately - and an invisible vapour.

Good news: much of the flavour and preservative materials in wood smoke are contained in the invisible vapour. The droplets that produce the haze - ahem, are you moving indoors now? - are largely aggregates of tars, resins and heavier phenolic materials, including the PAHs.

Since PAHS are mostly insoluble in water, while most of the flavour and preserving compounds dissolve to some degree, it's possible to separate the "good" from the "bad" by dissolving the flavour and preservatives in water. Hence "liquid" smoke.

Not that you want to go out and drink a bottle of the stuff everyday to "preserve" yourself with antioxidants. Toxicological studies show that liquid smoke is full of biologically active compounds, but under normal use it's harmless. That said, scientists don't recommend shaking the bottle before you use it, or draining it right to the bottom, since the PAHs that end up in liquid smoke aggregate and sink to the bottom over time.

As for that favourite treat that combines the best of these worlds, smoked almonds from most manufacturers are made with liquid smoke. You can make some, too. They'll be just as tasty and healthier for you than if you made them by firing up the old bar-b, plus they're way cheaper than store-bought ones.

Here's how, compliments of CDkitchen.com:

 

Mix together 1/2 teaspoon liquid smoke with 2 teaspoons water. Pour over 1.5 cups of raw, unblanched almonds. Place in a shallow Pyrex baking dish, cover and let stand overnight. Next day heat the almonds in a 300-degree oven. Once they're warm, toss with 1 tablespoon of butter (add more if you like). Roast 40-45 minutes, stirring frequently. Salt to taste, and keep 'em comin', just in time for school and work snacks.

 

Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who loved it when airlines served smoked almonds.