Billions more hungry mouths are going to put more strain on the planet’s
resources. Can eating creepy crawlies offer a solution?
At first my meal seems familiar, like countless other dishes I’ve eaten at
Asian restaurants. A swirl of noodles slicked with oil and studded with
shredded chicken, the aroma of ginger and garlic, a few wilting chives placed on
the plate as a final flourish. And then, I notice the eyes. Dark, compound orbs
on a yellow speckled head, joined to a winged, segmented body. I hadn’t spotted
them right away, but suddenly I see them everywhere – my noodles are teeming
with insects.
I can’t say I wasn’t warned. On this warm May afternoon, I’ve agreed to be a
guinea pig at an experimental insect tasting in Wageningen, a university town in
the central Netherlands. My hosts are Ben Reade and Josh Evans from the Nordic
Food Lab, a non-profit culinary research institute. Reade and Evans lead the
lab’s ‘insect deliciousness’ project, a three-year effort to turn insects – the
creepy crawlies that most of us squash without a second thought – into tasty
treats.
The project began after René Redzepi (the chef and co-owner of Noma, the
Danish restaurant often ranked the best in the world) tasted an Amazonian ant
that reminded him of lemongrass. Redzepi, who founded the Nordic Food Lab in
2008, became interested in serving insects at Noma and asked the researchers at
the lab to explore the possibilities.
The Food Lab operates from a houseboat in
Copenhagen, but Reade and Evans are in the Netherlands for a few days, and
they’ve borrowed a local kitchen to try out some brand new dishes. I, along with
three other gastronomes, am here to taste the results.
We take our seats at a long, high table as Reade and Evans wheel in a trolley
loaded with our meals. We each receive a different main course. I get the
Asian-style noodles and fixate on the bug I can see. “That’s a locust,” Reade
says. “[It] was alive this morning. Very fresh.” But he’s much more excited
about another, hidden ingredient: fat extracted from the larvae of black soldier
flies (or, to put it less delicately, maggot fat). The whole dish has been
stir-fried in it.
“I believe you’re the first human being on the planet to have ever been
served anything cooked with this,” Reade tells me. But not to worry: “I’ve eaten
some of it myself, an hour ago. I’m still alive.”
I inspect my plate.
Reade urges us to begin: “Eat before it gets cold.”
Feast or famine?
The next morning, Reade and Evans
join 450 of the world’s foremost experts on entomophagy, or insect eating, at a
hotel down the road in Ede. They are here for Insects to Feed the World, a
three-day conference to “promote the use of insects as human food and as animal
feed in assuring food security”.
The attendees are all familiar with the same dire facts. By the year 2050,
the planet will be packed with nine billion people. In low- and middle-income
countries, the demand for animal products is rising sharply as economies grow;
in the next few decades, we’ll need to figure out how to produce enough protein
for billions more mouths. Simply ramping up our current system is not really a
solution. The global livestock industry already takes an enormous toll on the
environment. It’s a hungry and thirsty beast, gobbling up land and water. It’s a
potent polluter, thanks to the animal waste and veterinary medicines that seep
into soil and water. And it emits more greenhouse gases than planes, trains and
automobiles combined.
The insect authorities assembling in Ede believe that entomophagy could be an
elegant solution to many of these problems. Insects are chock-full of protein
and rich in essential micronutrients, such as iron and zinc. They don’t need as
much space as livestock, emit lower levels of greenhouse gases, and have a
sky-high feed conversion rate: a single kilogram of feed yields 12 times more
edible cricket protein than beef protein. Some species of insects are drought
resistant and may require less water than cows, pigs or poultry.
Insect meal could also replace some of the expensive ingredients (e.g.
soybeans and fishmeal) that are fed to farm animals, potentially lowering the
cost of livestock products and freeing up feed crops for human consumption. As
an added bonus, bugs can be raised on refuse, such as food scraps and animal
manure, so insect farms could increase the world’s supply of protein while
reducing and recycling waste.
The gathering in Ede, jointly organised by the United Nations’ Food and
Agriculture Organisation (FAO) and Wageningen University and Research Centre, is
the culmination of all these efforts – the first major international conference
to bring together entomologists, entrepreneurs, nutritionists, chefs,
psychologists and government officials. They are here to discuss how to expand
the use of insects as food and feed, particularly in the Western world, and to
lay the foundation for an edible insect industry by reviewing the science and
identifying the obstacles to its progress.
Over the next three days, they will lay out their vision for the future. It
is ambitious and optimistic; an insect aisle at the supermarket and fast-food
restaurants that serve bug burgers. Packages of ‘beautiful, clean’
shrink-wrapped mealworms on display at the meat counter, alongside the skirt
steak and chicken wings. And a world in which forests are thick, land is
fertile, the climate is stable, water is clean, waste is minimal, food prices
are low, and hunger and malnutrition are rare.
This conference, they hope, will be the beginning of it all. The experts
assembled in the darkened auditorium are fired up, ready to give the world the
gift of six-legged livestock. But are we ready to receive it?
Bug buffet
Turning to insects for nourishment is not a novel idea – the Bible mentions
entomophagy, as do texts from Ancient Greece and Rome. But insect eating never
became common in Modern Europe. The reasons are unknown, but the spread of
agriculture – and, in particular, the domestication of livestock – may have made
insects, and undomesticated plants and animals in general, less important as
food sources.
Nevertheless, entomophagy remains common in some parts of the world: at least
two billion people worldwide eat insects, according to the FAO. Yellow jacket
wasp larvae are popular in Japan, cicadas are treasured in Malawi, and weaver
ants are devoured in Thailand. Termites, a food favourite in many African
nations, can be fried, smoked, steamed, sun-dried or ground into a powder. The
list of edible insect species is at 1,900 and growing.
Laura D’Asaro’s first brush with entomophagy came in Tanzania. In the summer
of 2011, D’Asaro – a tall, freckled Harvard student with a relentlessly cheerful
disposition – had gone to East Africa to take classes in Swahili. One day, she
came across a Tanzanian woman standing by the side of the road, selling fried
caterpillars out of a big basket. D’Asaro, an on-again off-again vegetarian,
wasn’t sure she wanted to eat an insect, but curiosity trumped apprehension.
“When else am I going to try fried caterpillar?” she wondered. She was
pleasantly surprised – the texture and the taste reminded her of lobster.
When the summer ended, D’Asaro returned to the USA and moved on with her
college life until, two years later, she stumbled across an article on the
benefits of bug eating. She thought back to her time in Tanzania. “All these
things clicked,” she recalls. “It made me reconsider why I was vegetarian and
made me realise that insects could be this more sustainable protein that I’d
been looking for pretty much my whole life.”
D’Asaro decided to start a company to introduce insects to American diners
and enlisted two of her college classmates, Rose Wang and Meryl Natow, to join
her. They began ordering boxes of bugs from pet food companies and playing
around in the kitchen, making waxworm tacos and smothering crickets in soy
sauce. “We were immediately very impressed with the taste of it all,” D’Asaro
says. They partnered with a Boston chef and started developing recipes. But when
they shared samples with friends, or bravely brought some of their new dishes to
potluck dinners, it did not go well. “People seemed very frightened.”
Some foods, like chocolate, sell themselves. Insects are not one of those
foods. “Insects,” says Paul Rozin, a psychologist at the University of
Pennsylvania, “are disgusting. Things that are disgusting are offensive because
of what they are. It’s not that insects taste bad. It’s that the idea of an
insect is upsetting to people.”
Yuck factor
Why do we find insects so disgusting?
Rozin says the answer is simple: because they’re animals. As a general rule,
most of the foods that humans find disgusting are animal products. Even the
most insatiable carnivores eat only a small fraction of the species that exist
on the planet. In some ways, roaches are no different to gorillas, gerbils or
iguanas, or any other creatures that we don’t routinely eat. In other ways,
though, they’re much worse. Many insect species are found on, in or around
waste, and they’re commonly associated with dirt, decay and disease, all of
which increase the yuck factor.
D’Asaro and her partners realised that they’d need to ease consumers into the
idea of bug gastronomy, so they abandoned the idea of serving whole insects and
decided to work instead with cricket flour, which could be invisibly
incorporated into familiar foods. They decided to launch their company, which
they named Six Foods, with a product Americans already love: chips [crisps].
They created ‘Chirps’, a triangular chip made of black beans, rice and cricket
flour, which is lightly spritzed with oil and then baked. Chirps are high in
protein and low in fat and taste similar to tortilla chips, D’Asaro says,
although the cricket flour adds a slightly nutty, savoury flavour. Six Foods
plans to begin shipping them this month.
In some ways, however, Chirps are a Trojan horsefly, a way to sneak bugs into
American diets and transform sceptics into insectivores. In the past few years,
there’s been an explosion in businesses trying to put the ‘meal’ into mealworms.
A Belgian outfit called Green Kow makes carrot-mealworm, tomato-mealworm and
chocolate-mealworm spreads. Ento, based in the UK, sells mealworm and cricket
pâtés at food festivals and last year created a pop-up restaurant devoted to
insect cuisine. In the USA, Chapul and Exo sell protein bars full of cricket
flour, while New Generation Nutrition, in the Netherlands, has experimented with
a falafel-like chickpea and buffalo worm patty.
Then there are the companies that are raising insects for animal feed, such
as Agriprotein, which is based in South Africa and building “a damn big fly
factory”, as co-founder David Drew puts it. The plant is scheduled to open next
year and will produce 24 tonnes of larvae and seven tonnes of maggot meal, or
MagMeal, every day. Agriprotein plans to create nine more of these factories
across the globe by 2020. Enviroflight (in the USA), Ynsect (in France) and
Protix (in the Netherlands) have also built large-scale insect production
facilities.
‘Honey bugs’
Many companies have arrived at the same conclusion as Six Foods – that it’s
best not to confront consumers with insects too directly. Take waxworms, which
live in beehives and eat honeycomb. By all accounts, they’re delicious: buttery,
with a taste reminiscent of bacon. But the word ‘worm’ can be a deal-breaker for
diners, so Six Foods has re-christened them ‘honey bugs’. Ento calls them
‘honeycomb caterpillars’. Florence Dunkel, an entomologist at Montana State
University, recommends borrowing from their scientific name, Galleria
mellonella. “We say ‘We’re having Galleria quesadilla,’ and it sounds much more
exotic,” she tells the audience at one presentation. Dunkel also suggests using
the euphemism ‘land shrimp’ for insects.
When Rozin conducted an online survey of several hundred Americans, he found
that 75% said they’d rather eat an insect than raw goat meat, and 53% reported
that they’d rather eat an insect than endure 10 minutes of moderate pain. “So
this isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Rozin reassures the audience during
his talk. “It’s just something you’d rather not do.”
The conference-goers seem to find comfort in telling and re-telling the story
of sushi – a strange, foreign dish that showcased raw fish (raw fish!) and yet
became not just acceptable but trendy in the West. “There’s no question that
food preferences can change,” says D’Asaro, whose words tend to come rushing out
in an enthusiastic tumble. “I mean, there are 450 people here who believe in the
future of insects as food. So I think it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen
now, and I would certainly put – I mean, I am putting – my money on it.”
There is audible excitement on the first morning of the conference when the
organiser, entomologist Arnold van Huis, announces that each day’s lunch will
feature at least one insect snack. That day, it’s miniature quiches sprinkled
liberally with dried mealworms. They don’t look particularly appetising to me,
but I’m in the company of true believers. It’s easy to get caught up in their
passion and energy, their conviction that ‘land shrimp’ are the key to fixing
food.I put a mealworm quiche on my plate. I don’t want to miss my chance to help
save the world.
‘Not all insects are safe’
Adrian Charlton is a major buzzkill. A biochemist at the Food &
Environment Research Agency in the UK, Charlton is one of the scientists working
on PROteINSECT, a 3m euro (£2.34m), EU-funded project that launched last year.
The team, which includes researchers in seven countries and three continents, is
trying to nail down the nitty-gritty details involved in turning insects into
animal feed. The scientists are testing different methods of fly farming,
conducting livestock feeding trials and analysing the environmental impact of
insect factories, among other things. Charlton is heading up the safety and
quality analyses, and he’s here at the conference at 9am, the day after we’ve
all chowed down on mealworm quiche, to warn us that “not all insects are
safe”.
Bugs scooped up from the wild may be covered in pesticides or other
contaminants, but even raising insects in industrial, indoor facilities won’t
necessarily eliminate the risks. Food scraps may be contaminated with fungus,
some species of which produce nasty toxins. Animal manure may contain
disease-causing bacteria, such as Salmonella and Campylobacter, as well as
antibiotics or other drugs given to livestock. Heavy metals such as arsenic,
cadmium and lead can also accumulate in animal manure and agricultural waste –
and then in the bodies of insects that feed on it. “We know in some cases
insects will tolerate much higher levels of metals than mammals,” Charlton
warns. “And therefore that’s a risk in terms of using them as a feedstock.”
Charlton has found that some flies raised on animal and food waste have
cadmium levels higher than limits set by the EU. Other researchers have also
documented elevated levels of lead in dried grasshoppers from Mexico and
dangerous levels of fungal toxins in the mopane caterpillar, which is eaten in
many parts of Africa. “This is not all speculation,” says Charlton.
Insects also have their own pathogens: viruses, bacteria and fungi that
colonise their tiny bodies. Although there’s still a lot to learn about these
microorganisms, some could potentially pose risks to humans or livestock.
Then there’s the allergy question. Insects are arthropods, and several other
arthropods – most notably shrimp – can cause severe allergic reactions. One of
the major triggers of shellfish allergies is a muscle protein called
tropomyosin. The protein sequence of tropomyosin is similar in insects and
crustaceans, and people with shellfish allergies may also react to insects.
Commercial confusion
Given that, Charlton says, it makes sense for legislators to take a
cautious approach. In the EU, companies that want to introduce edible insect
products may be subject to the Novel Food Regulation, which applies to any food
that wasn’t ‘used for human consumption to a significant degree’ in Europe
before the law was enacted in 1997. Any of these so-called ‘novel’ products or
ingredients must undergo a thorough safety assessment, and then be approved by
food safety regulators, before being placed on the market. The situation in the
USA is similar: companies can sell whole insects as long as they are clean,
wholesome and raised specifically for human consumption, but if they want to use
a novel insect-derived product (eg protein powder) as an additive, they may need
to petition the Food and Drug Administration to designate the ingredient as
safe.
The Novel Food Regulation currently applies to ingredients that are
‘isolated’ from animals but not animals that are eaten whole. And yet, some
national food authorities have rejected whole-insect products, and future
versions of the novel food regulation may encompass them. Meanwhile, some
companies are already selling products that may be forbidden under the current
regulation, without any apparent consequence. These and other ambiguities can
leave companies in an uncomfortable grey area.
Getting insects into animal feed could prove even tougher than getting them
onto people’s plates, thanks to rules enacted in response to the outbreak of mad
cow disease in the UK in the 1980s and 1990s. The disease spread as the remains
of sick animals were processed into feed for other livestock. To combat this
problem, the EU instituted a series of new policies, including a ban on feeding
‘processed animal proteins’ to farmed animals. There are some exceptions for
fishmeal and fish feed, but as the law currently stands, insect meal is a
non-starter. Another problem for would-be insect farmers is a law that forbids
‘farmed animals’ – a category that includes insects raised for food and feed –
from being reared on certain kinds of waste, including manure.
David Drew, of Agriprotein, finds it particularly bizarre that insects can’t
even be fed to chickens. “It’s just a mistake – let’s be honest… At the time the
legislation was created, there was no insect feed. Otherwise, it would be there
in the legislation. It’s absolutely absurd that the natural food of chickens,
which is maggots…is banned, and fish, which they’ve never eaten, is
permitted.”
Moving too fast?
But while the entrepreneurs seem to be growing restless – some have brought
products to display at the conference that they’re not yet allowed to sell –
some scientists are worried about moving too fast. “Until we know more, then the
legislation shouldn’t change to allow insects into the food chain,” says
Charlton.
When I catch up with him a few weeks after the conference, Charlton
makes clear that he’s not trying to shut the bug businesses down or keep insects
out of animal feed forever. “I actually do think that this is a good idea,” he
says. “It just needs the data behind it to prove that.”
Eating the mealworm quiche had given me a good sense of what the
insectivores are up against. The dish tasted perfectly fine – the mealworms had
a slightly nutty, toasted flavour and gave the quiche an extra crunch – but it
still made my stomach turn. After taking a few bites, I found myself pushing the
quiche to the side of my plate.
But I’d survived the quiche, as well as the maggot fat at that first
tasting by the Nordic Food Lab. Over my week in the Netherlands, I’d tried other
delicacies: locust tabbouleh; chicken crumbed in buffalo worms; bee larvae
ceviche; tempura-fried crickets; rose beetle larvae stew; soy grasshoppers;
chargrilled sticky rice with wasp paste; buffalo worm, avocado and tomato salad;
a cucumber, basil and locust drink; and a fermented, Asian-style dipping sauce
made from grasshoppers and mealworms.
None of them had actually tasted bad. The insects themselves were
quite bland. The crickets had a slightly fishy aftertaste and the buffalo worms
a metallic one. The rose beetle larvae were vaguely reminiscent of smoked ham.
Mostly, the insects were carriers for other, stronger flavours in a
dish.
Astonishing tastes
In fact, the Nordic Food Lab’s Josh Evans and Ben Reade declared
their tasting a failure, largely because the star ingredients – which came from
Dutch insect farms – were nearly flavourless.
Over the
past year, they’ve been to five continents and discovered an astonishing world
of insect flavour. In Australia, they savoured the sweet-and-sour tang of honey
ants and sampled scale insect larvae, which taste like fresh mushrooms and pop
softly in the mouth. In Uganda, they feasted on queen termites, which are fatty
– like little sausages – with the texture of sweetbreads, the fragrance of foie
gras and a delicate sweetness. In Mexico, they enjoyed escamoles, desert ant
eggs with a creamy mouthfeel and the aroma of blue cheese.
Rather than carting crates of escamoles to Copenhagen, Evans and
Reade hope to identify European insects that are similar to the ones they tasted
on their travels or can be prepared in similar ways. The goal, they say, isn’t
necessarily to get everyone eating insects. Rather, it’s to introduce diners to
delicious, under-used ingredients, expand food choice and encourage people to
embrace the edible resources that surround them.
They sometimes seem frustrated by all the talk of scaling up insect
production enormously, using insects in highly processed products, and creating
a global insect trade, with a few easy-to-farm species shipped all around the
world. They object to large-scale insect farming partly on gastronomic grounds –
in their experience, farmed, freeze-dried insects taste “like cardboard”, Evans
says – but also on ecological ones, worrying that we may end up merely replacing
one industrial protein-production system with another.
“Insects themselves could be the most sustainable thing, they could have no
carbon footprint at all,” Reade says. “But then if we insisted on freeze-drying
them all using huge amounts of energy and sending them halfway across the planet
for energy-consuming protein extraction and then decided to sell that protein in
another part of the world shaped like chicken breasts in a little plastic packet
– well, there’s nothing sustainable about that at all.”
Food for everyone
Bart Muys, an ecologist at KU Leuven in Belgium, tells the conference-goers
that although insects can be reared on relatively tiny plots of land, producing
insect meal requires significantly more energy than fishmeal or soymeal does,
largely because the bugs need to be raised in warm conditions. The environmental
impact of each production system will vary. The golden rule, Muys warns, is: “Do
not claim before you know.”
Although everyone at the conference is dreaming of a future with more insects
on the menu, the exact natures of those dreams vary widely – from the chefs who
want to showcase insects’ unique flavours at the world’s best restaurants to the
businessmen who believe the best use of bugs is as a feedstock to help lower the
price of beef. There’s no central authority dictating the next steps; although
there’s talk of gathering for another conference in two or three years, all the
experts and advocates will pursue their own priorities in the meantime.
For their part, Evans and Reade reject the notion that insects will be some
sort of silver bullet. Bugs, they say, will only be a real part of the solution
if we are careful and thoughtful about how we integrate them into the food
system. In their eyes, entomophagy is about more than merely getting a precise
amount of protein on a plate – it’s about making sure everyone on the planet has
access to food that is affordable, healthy, diverse, environmentally sound and,
yes, delicious. “Insects can be a vehicle for something,” Reade says. “But it
has to be recognised that it’s not the insects themselves that are going to make
it sustainable. It’s the humans.”
This article was originally published by Mosaic, and is reproduced under
a Creative Commons licence. For more about the issues around this story, visit Mosaic’s website
here.
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