Scientists Sample Ginger

by Judy Sobeloff, from the March 2007 newsletter

“This is fierce,” he said. It looked like urine, and when he offered it to me I declined. “It’s your duty to take a sip if you’re writing the article,” he added. I stared at him—my husband, the father of my children—and raised the steaming mug to my lips.

Whether steeped in hot water as above, whether pickled, preserved or powdered, ginger has long been valued not only for its flavor and aroma but for its therapeutic and medicinal properties. Perhaps known to you as “ginger root,” those knobby fingers are actually not the root but the rhizome, “a usually underground, horizontal stem of a plant that often sends out roots and shoots from its nodes” (Wikipedia.com).

Whether root or rhizome, ginger dates back to ancient China and India about 7,000 years ago, with the name ginger coming from the word zingiber, which means horn-shaped in Sanskrit. Ginger was apparently used in Ancient Rome, but then not used in Europe again after the fall of the Roman Empire until Marco Polo brought it back from the Far East, whereupon for centuries ginger ranked second in popularity only to pepper.

While evaluating health claims is beyond the scope of this article, I read that ginger is an antibacterial which can help with nausea, indigestion, joint pain, headaches, motion sickness and flatulence. On the other hand, I read, those allergic to ginger may experience increased flatulence, and overuse of ginger may lead to gastric irritation.

Ginger is used in Chinese medicine to treat a variety of ailments, and the ancient Greeks apparently ate ginger wrapped in bread to aid digestion—a practice which evolved into ginger being added to bread dough, which in turn led to the creation of gingerbread.

The gingerbread man, or gingerbread person, if you will, is believed to have first appeared in the court of Queen Elizabeth I, who is said to have presented courtiers with elaborately decorated gingerbread versions of themselves.

Other less palatable uses of ginger include the practice of figging, widespread prior to World War One, whereby horses were given ginger suppositories before parades or public ceremonies because the burning sensation from the ginger caused them to hold their tails high.

Dried ginger, used primarily in baking, has such different properties from fresh ginger that one ancient Chinese herbalist believed they came from different plants (stevenfoster.com). In cooking, dried ginger does not substitute well for fresh, though fresh can be adequately substituted for dried at a ratio of 6:1.

Hoping to create a new reality show (along the lines of a Survivor spin-off), we invited three unwitting physicists, a pharmacist and five children to dinner and then put them to work cooking with ginger.

As I watched the first team of scientists set up camp with their knives and chopping boards during the construction of Carrot-Ginger-Squash soup, I wondered aloud about how to weigh the sugar, as instructed in the next recipe event: Crystallized Ginger. Though by now it was clear I would have no actual physical involvement with the cooking, one of the physicists suggested we make some kind of balance. “We just need a stick,” he said, eyeing my 5-year-old’s violin bow. Later, I saw the scientists huddled together, developing a more in-depth analysis of the weighing task. Still later I saw the results of their chosen solution (“winging it”): bowls and pans and colanders heaped with sugar lay on every available horizontal surface, including the floor.

We all liked the soup—“it grows on you as you eat it,” Fred said—though I would have preferred a milder version, perhaps with less pepper. I loved the candied ginger, hot and fiery as it was, and downed it by the handful, not only because it was a treat I associate with visiting my grandparents. One guest cook, who said it cleared her sinuses, commented that she preferred the thinner pieces because she found them less spicy. Surface area ratio and all that, I suppose. Leave it to a physicist.

CARROT-GINGER-SQUASH SOUP (from allrecipes.com)

½ medium butternut squash
2 Tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, diced
1 pound, carrots, peeled and diced
3 cloves garlic, crushed or to taste
1 (2-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
4 cups water
Salt and pepper to taste
1 pinch ground cinnamon
¼ cup heavy cream (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Scoop seeds out of the butternut squash, and place cut side down on a greased baking sheet. Bake for 30-40 minutes, or until softened. Allow to cool, then scoop the squash flesh out of the skin using a large spoon and set aside. Discard skin. Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add chopped onion and garlic, stirring until onion is translucent. Pour in the water, and add squash, carrots, and ginger. Bring to a boil, and cook for at least 20 minutes, or until carrots and ginger are tender. Puree the mixture in a blender. Add boiling water if necessary to thin. Return soup to the pan, and heat through. Season with salt, pepper, and cinnamon. Ladle into serving bowls, and pour a thin swirl of cream over the top if desired.

CRYSTALLIZED (CANDIED) GINGER (from homecooking.about.com)
Peel and thinly slice 1 pound (500 grams) fresh ginger. Place sliced ginger in a heavy saucepan and cover with water. Cook gently until tender, about 30 minutes. Drain off water. Weigh the cooked ginger and measure an equal amount of sugar. Return ginger to saucepan. Add sugar and 3 Tablespoons of water. Bring to a boil, stirring often, and cook until ginger is transparent and liquid has almost evaporated. Reduce heat and cook, stirring constantly, until almost dry. Toss cooled ginger in sugar to coat. Store crystallized (candied) ginger in an airtight jar for up to 3 months.