M: I'm kind of curious, and I'd appreciate it if you'd go online and look something up for me. I made some pesto the other day. And as a combination, you know, it doesn't really seem too wild of a choice. But basil, pine nuts, parmesan, and olive oil seems to be, like, some kind of appealing to people in a way that the combination doesn't necessarily indicate would happen. Like, people will spend years trying to get an ideal blend, while I'm sitting here wondering about what the term ideal would even mean in this situation. So I guess what I'm asking is, if you would mind going online and trying to find out how much of this kind of—it doesn't have to be narrowed to pesto, I was just thinking about that particularly when I started going in this direction— just how much of the things that a large percentage of people think taste good are societal expectations based on history, and how much of it is an actual, you know, high degree of overlap. Between people on what pleasantly activates the chemical centers of their tongue and or brain.
G: This is a great question — and it’s exactly the kind of thing scientists actually study in fields like neurogastronomy, behavioral genetics, and food psychology. The short answer is: there’s no single “ideal” taste that everyone likes because taste preferences emerge from a mix of biology, lived experience, and culture. But we can say quite a bit about how and why humans tend to like certain foods (and combinations) like pesto. Here’s a breakdown based on real research and scientific thinking:
Humans evolved to detect nutrients and avoid toxins. That fundamental biology influences what tastes appealing:
For example, pesto combines savory/umami (cheese), fat (olive oil and pine nuts), and aromatic herb compounds (basil and garlic). That’s biologically satisfying on a sensory level because fat and umami are rewarding to human taste systems. But this doesn’t fully explain why pesto is “great” — more on that below.
Studies show that genetics account for a moderate to substantial amount of variation in food preferences:
So in some sense, yes, there are biological overlaps in what a lot of people find pleasant — but it’s not universal.
From even before birth:
This is how cultures develop signature flavor combinations: repeated early and frequent exposure makes them familiar and enjoyable.
A lot of what people think tastes good is learned and socially reinforced:
So the popularity of something like pesto isn’t just chemistry — it’s also the cultural context that signals “this is good food” and that gets reinforced socially (through family, restaurants, media, etc.).
Flavor isn’t just a taste on the tongue — it’s a whole brain experience:
This means two people with similar biology might still disagree about a dish because of their individual histories.
Here’s a simplified way to think about it:
Most of the foods people “agree” taste good are a blend of both. There’s often a biological predisposition (e.g., humans tend to like umami and fat), but culture shapes what compounds or combinations become beloved classics.
So your instinct — questioning why certain combinations are considered “ideal” — lines up with what science says: taste isn’t purely objective chemistry, and it isn’t purely social conditioning either. It’s a dynamic interplay of genes, sensory perception, early exposure, culture, and individual experience.
If you want, I can dive even deeper into the neurochemical reasons a combination like pesto feels good to many people, including discussion of aroma compound interactions!
M: Let's look at this from the opposite side. What is the actual... what are the mechanisms... what does research say regarding things that are thought not to go together? Like to actively contradict each other, like mint toothpaste and orange juice. Is that also an asocietal norm, or is there actual biochemistry involved, or what? Again, go online to figure this one out, please. Because liking something might be subjective, but maybe we can get some insight as to what parts are biological imperatives versus personal taste if we look at it from that opposite direction.
G: Absolutely — looking at things that actively taste bad together can be even more revealing than studying things most people like. You mentioned mint toothpaste + orange juice — that’s a great example because it’s not just “people don’t like it,” it feels objectively off in a reproducible way for a large portion of people. Let’s unpack what research and science say about why some combinations clash and whether that clash is cultural/social or rooted in actual biochemistry and sensory mechanisms.
When you brush your teeth with most commercial toothpaste and then drink orange juice (or other sweet/sour foods), the unpleasant taste isn’t just a learned cultural reaction — it’s well-documented in sensory science to arise from biochemical changes in how your taste receptors work. Specifically:
In other words: in this case, the brain isn’t rejecting the combination because of culture — the taste system itself is temporarily rewired by toothpaste residue.
Taste perception is built on biochemical interactions between molecules in food and the receptors on our taste buds:
If something interferes with these receptors (like SLS suppressing sweet receptors or exposing bitter ones), the signal your brain gets is genuinely different, not just socially tainted.
This supports the idea that certain flavor clashes are rooted in biology.
While the toothpaste–orange juice example is well documented, there are broader categories of biological taste conflicts:
Some flavor compounds can block receptors for others. For instance:
Some food components activate nerve fibers responsible for pain or temperature (e.g., very cooling menthol in mint), leading to sensory aversion rather than purely taste responses. People with heightened sensitivity (“supertasters”) may experience these effects very intensely. citeturn0search7
If one food component stimulates a receptor and then temporarily desensitizes it, following foods may taste dulled or distorted — a biochemical sensory effect, not just personal subjectivity.
It’s important to separate:
The toothpaste example is one of the least culturally influenced examples, because almost everyone experiences it regardless of background — the only variable is whether the toothpaste contains SLS and how a person’s receptors are wired.
From this and similar examples, we can conclude:
Both biology and culture shape taste, but there are hardwired sensory effects (like the toothpaste case) where biology clearly dominates the reaction.
If you’d like, I can go deeper into other known taste incompatibilities where the sensory science has been studied (e.g., why some bitter + sweet mixtures cross thresholds of acceptability, or why some flavor pairings literally excite conflicting receptor pathways). Just let me know!
M: See, that's what I was, this is where I was trying to get to initially, is what research has proven to be like literally chemically, I don't know, catalytic or accelerant or whatever, in the same way that the SLS suppresses things. Like, have they discovered any particular molecule or family of molecules which objectively trigger a heightened sensation or something? Because what I'm hypothesizing is that there may be some family of molecular constructs caused by chemical mixtures, or maybe some binary or even trinary set of catalytic activators, which could function like SLS, but that being currently underhyped or under-aware or just not quite researched enough is not in the public eye. So like in this hypothetical, something about the flavoring of basil and the pine nuts, or walnuts, because I used walnuts this time, and Parmesan or olive oil or like two or three of those would, in the creation of the pesto, build a minor molecule, kind of like prions, I guess, would be what I'm talking about. Not in the source, but the kind of thing where it's some sort of incidental chemical product, which might not be well documented or noticed because it's thought of as being signal noise, but that actually interacts with the human taste system, which I'm calling it that, because I would guess it's something not just in the tongue, but in all of the other parts of the nervous system along the digestive tract. That actually increases or decreases the enjoyability of certain things. Like I'm talking about the kind of molecules where, what's a good parallel? Man, I can't think of one off the top, but one of those situations where the chemistry of a certain situation is usually visualized as every molecule being 100% intact afterwards, but that actually is at the molecular level populated by a bunch of different transitory forms or unstable forms or things like that, where they might exist for only a moment or two, but that in that existence gives the potential for that transitory taste to excite the taste buds or other sensory apparatus of the whole taste system.
G: You’re asking exactly the sort of deep mechanistic question that modern flavor science is still trying to unravel: are there real molecular-level interactions in foods (beyond simple sensory receptor binding) that arise because of specific combinations of compounds — especially transient or catalytic ones — that meaningfully change perception? In other words, is there a kind of emergent chemistry in food that alters taste, beyond cultural or learned preference?
The short answer from current research is: yes — there are real chemical and biochemical mechanisms that change how flavor compounds behave, are generated, or interact with sensory systems, and some of this goes beyond simple additive effects. But the field is complex and ongoing, and many of the most intriguing mechanisms are still under active investigation rather than conclusively mapped out. Here’s what we do know based on recent studies.
When foods containing sugars and amino acids interact during cooking (e.g., roasting nuts, browning cheese), they undergo a cascade of chemical reactions called the Maillard reaction. This generates a complex mixture of new molecules — alkylpyrazines, aldehydes, ketones, furans, etc. — many of which have very low odor and taste thresholds and play a huge role in rich flavor perception. citeturn0search6turn0search20
These molecules aren’t just the ingredients themselves — they’re reaction products that didn’t exist in the ingredients prior to cooking. They emerge from the chemistry of heat, water activity, etc., and strongly influence how savory or “umami-rich” foods taste.
So, yes — chemistry creates new flavor compounds in food, and these are among the most impactful on overall flavor chemistry.
Some molecules don’t taste like anything on their own, but they change how receptors respond to other molecules.
These proteins change the functional state of taste receptors — it’s biochemical modulation, not a higher-level psychological effect.
This is exactly the kind of mechanism you’re imagining: a compound doesn’t just “add flavor,” it alters the signaling of sensory proteins.
Flavor science has identified classic examples of molecular synergism:
This is a true biochemical interaction at the receptor level where having both compounds vastly enhances perception — not just a cognitive effect.
This is similar in concept to what you hypothesize: pairing two compounds creates a more intense sensory response than either alone.
Recent research has shown that oral microbiota and enzymes in saliva aren’t inert — they actively transform flavor compounds in the mouth:
That’s a fascinating example of emergent chemistry after ingestion — a transient production of new molecules that interact with receptors.
Before flavor compounds ever reach taste or smell receptors, they undergo transformations:
This is an example of perireceptor events — molecules that don’t directly bind receptors but alter the chemical landscape around them in the mouth.
Based on current research:
Most documented flavor chemistry occurs via:
There’s no well-characterized class of “flavor prion-like intermediates” produced by normal mixing of raw culinary ingredients that independently trigger new receptor pathways in a catalytic way.
Researchers are currently exploring things like:
So your hypothesis — that there could be under-recognized transient or catalytic intermediate molecules affecting perception — is plausible as a frontier research question, but not yet validated with specific identified compounds in everyday foods.
Biochemically grounded effects include:
Less confirmed (but intriguing) areas still being explored:
If you want, I can connect this to specific examples in pesto components (e.g., basil terpenes, walnut oils, cheese amino acids) and explore whether combinations of those might interact at the receptor or enzymatic level to enhance flavor perception.
M: As I was reading, or more accurately, reading on and off while I was working on a craft with my hands and thinking about it, I thought of a good example of the kind of thing that makes me wonder about the idea of those transient molecules existing without any kind of cooking necessarily being involved. I mean, cooking could be a part of it, you know, first changing in a way that either allows for the interactions to happen, or changing the food so that what wouldn't have happened with the raw form has molecularly changed to allow for the transitory interactions. But what made me think about it was how I've always been, I don't know if I call it a fan of, but I've always been a user of the kamikaze method of using a drink fountain. Like, it almost feels unnatural to me to pull a soda or whatever else is running through from a single outlet on a publicly accessible fountain, you know, like in a fast food restaurant or something like that. And in doing so, you know, there are flavors that work well Or at least don't counteract each other. But it always has been kind of weird to me that there are somehow combinations of what's essentially industrially adjusted sugar syrup that somehow mix badly. Like not every combination should be a flavorful delight. But it's odd that there are some which seriously do not combine together pleasantly. And if I'm looking at it that way, I could also say that it's odd that there are some that actually dupe. And I think that if my hypotheses hold any water, that this might be like the lowest brow version or lowest branch example of what I'm talking about. Because they are, you know, while more complex than I'm making it look, they are essentially giant vats of chemical consistency, industrially mixed, so that every version that comes out is hypothetically the same. So when they're mixed, there are only two major possibilities in terms of flavor interaction. It's either simultaneous interaction with the taste system, or some form of temporary or transitory chemistry from mixing two things together that could cause these positive or negative results. Now there may be something I'm missing either, you know, omitting or adding accidentally. And I'd appreciate it if you pointed that out, but I just thought it was a good example of the reason why I would be interested in seeing if anyone has identified a causality for that which goes outside of the usual idea of just mixing two things together.
G: You’re not missing something obvious. Your soda-fountain example is actually a very clean test case for the exact question you’re asking, and food-science research more or less agrees with the framing you’re circling:
most fountain-drink “clashes” are not due to new molecules being formed, but they are due to non-linear sensory and physicochemical interactions that behave like emergent chemistry even when no true synthesis occurs.
Below is the clearest way to separate what’s actually happening from what feels like chemistry but isn’t, and where the frontier you’re hypothesizing really does exist.
Now the long version, tightly scoped.
You’re right about the key premise:
That narrows causality to three buckets only:
Bucket #1 is mostly empty here. Buckets #2 and #3 are doing almost all the work.
At fountain conditions (cold, aqueous, acidic, no enzymes, no heat):
So you’re correct to be suspicious of the “surely something new must form” intuition — classical synthesis almost never happens here.
However.
This is not synthesis, but it is chemistry affecting perception.
Some compounds prefer:
When you mix two sodas:
This is why some mixes feel “muted” and others feel “spiky.”
This is where soda combinations live or die.
This is identical in mechanism to the toothpaste–orange juice case, just weaker and more complex.
Many sodas activate the trigeminal nerve:
When two trigeminal stimuli stack:
This explains why:
Your tongue and nose don’t sample everything at once.
Some flavors:
Bad mixes often fail because:
the timing profile becomes incoherent
Not chemically wrong — neurologically wrong.
This is the most interesting part, and closest to your hypothesis.
When two syrups “become” something else:
Classic example:
What’s happening:
The brain resolves ambiguity by pattern matching, not by chemical analysis.
This is emergent perception, not emergent chemistry — but it’s not cultural either.
Let me sharpen your idea without dulling it.
In other words:
The “accelerant” isn’t a molecule — it’s the system.
Pesto does flirt with the boundary you’re interested in because it involves:
Here:
Still no prions. But far more room for transient, system-level effects than soda.
Your intuition is directionally correct but one level too “chemical”.
The frontier isn’t:
“Are new molecules forming?”
It’s:
“How do transient interactions, receptor states, and signal timing create emergent flavor perception that feels chemical but is actually systems biology?”
That area is real, under-publicized, and still poorly mapped — and your soda-fountain example is a surprisingly sharp way of getting there.
If you want, next we can:
M: Okay, first verify for me if the transitory molecules I'm talking about are actually a thing, whether, you know, it doesn't matter whether it's a ubiquitous thing or a only rarely isolated thing. I mean, it'd be nice if it was a well-verified thing, but I'll take the, you know, elusive version as well because that's part of the whole hypothesis and why I felt like I needed to send another message. It's because what I'm talking about would intrinsically be, like I think I said, unstable or, you know, at the very least likely to be reverted in some form. In other words, isolating it would be difficult. So, after that first part, if such things had been reliably identified, I was wondering how it was done in a way that accurately reflected those temporary states. Because that's the one part about my theory or hypothesis or whatever that I don't like. Not the concept, but the inherent difficulty of it. It's not quite up there with a unicorn or Bigfoot, but I'm perfectly aware that my theory is essentially saying there's molecules that you don't see which, you know, activate the taste system in one way or another and then run off giggling because within a couple moments they will be completely gone and without a trace. That's why I asked it the way I did, is because I'm trying to think of a good parallel here. Okay, it's like how, in terms of a lifespan of an inanimate object, percentage-wise, you might have a pile of lumber and other materials or a house but the actual duration of the time where the house is unfinished by human standards is easily measurable, but if you were to try to, you know, take a sample space of all the houses in a given area, you, like a alien species, might come to the conclusion that houses are either built or unbuilt, hypothetically, with some transitory period that they've rarely seen. Molecules would be a more complex version of that, where we think of it as being one thing or the other, and we're aware of the transition, but the transition is so minute and quick that there can be things going on which we only accidentally see, things where the people who have seen them might not even have known what they were and thought of them as being an aberration instead of a necessary element of the interaction. This is what I'm looking at, this we're trying to talk about at the very least. The idea that in the middle of all these things happening, perception would be just chaos, so even if they existed, even if they were highly prevalent because there are so many molecules doing so many things, isolating them to understand what's going on would inherently be difficult, doubly so the more transitory they were, the more, you know, 0.0001% of the time that, for example, I don't know, I can't think of a good, clean example, but like the 0.001% of the time when pure alcohol kicking around in a liquid form bumping up against each other might, I don't know, knock loose some sort of chain and leave a couple weird carbon chains that were not unstable, but that would disappear as soon as they found a similar combination or a similar fragment from the one they lost to pick things up like nothing had happened. Or maybe another good way of putting it would be like how, if I remember things correctly, when you put an ice cube into a cold liquid of the same material, especially, that while the ice cube is melting, every once in a while, you know, there is the reverse entropy arrow where a couple molecules are temporarily frozen onto the ice cube. That's the area that I'm looking at. We reasonably treat interactions as being one way, because in terms of entropy, that's where things will eventually end up, and we forget that there is a bit of a salmon-up-the-waterfall effect where the interaction goes the other way as well. And that's similar to what I'm talking about here, a constant transitioning and re-transitioning potentially through these transitional molecular forms in a way that our testing may or may not be equipped to detect on a regular basis because it is, in the end, subject to entropy and so will necessarily disappear.
G: I can give you a clean, grounded answer here, without hand-waving, and without inflating what’s known.
Yes — the class of “transitory molecular states” you are
describing absolutely exists, is well-established in physical chemistry,
and is not speculative.
They are real, ubiquitous, and intrinsic to molecular interaction.
What is not yet established is a direct, isolated
causal chain from those states to specific flavor perception
outcomes in ordinary foods — but the existence of the
states themselves is not in doubt.
Your hypothesis is chemically sane. The difficulty is observability, attribution, and relevance, not existence.
Depending on context, what you’re describing already has names:
These are:
They are not stable products and often never accumulate.
Before two molecules react (or fail to), they often form:
Most dissolve back into the bulk immediately.
These are the classic:
Not quite transition states, not quite products:
In biological systems:
This category is especially relevant to taste and smell.
All of these exist continuously in any liquid, mixture, or biological interface.
This part of your message is dead on:
we treat interactions as one-way because entropy dominates, but the reverse events still occur at low probability
That’s not poetic — that’s statistical mechanics.
At equilibrium:
Your ice-cube analogy is actually a standard teaching example for local entropy reversals.
So yes:
This is the critical methodological piece you asked for.
They are not detected by isolating them as bottles
on a shelf.
They are detected by catching them in the act or inferring them
from consequences.
Techniques like:
These let researchers observe:
on timescales shorter than molecular relaxation.
This is how transition states were experimentally validated.
Lower temperature = slower entropy.
By rapidly freezing systems:
This is used in enzymology and radical chemistry.
Methods like:
can:
Often:
No single snapshot is decisive; convergence is.
This is the part where your discomfort is justified.
Flavor perception sits at the intersection of:
That is an epistemic nightmare.
Specific obstacles:
Signal-to-noise
Timescale mismatch
Attribution problem
Biological mediation
All of these reshape chemistry before receptors see anything.
So absence of evidence here is not evidence of absence — it’s a tooling problem.
One refinement that will make your idea more accurate:
The transient species do not need to directly bind receptors.
Instead, they can:
In other words: they act as modulators, not agonists.
That is far more plausible — and far better supported — than “ghost molecules that taste themselves.”
You are not chasing Bigfoot.
You are pointing at the fog between molecules and perception — and that
fog is real.
If you want, the next step could be:
M: Ha! Raman. … like “ramen”. Makes me want someone to use the technique on a bowl…
G: Yeah — the ramen / Raman pun is irresistible, and you’re not wrong to feel the gravitational pull there.
実際(じっさい) に ラマン 分光(ぶんこう) は 食べ物(たべもの) に 使(つか)われて いる — In fact, Raman spectroscopy is used on food.
And funnily enough, people really do point Raman spectroscopy at bowls of food, just usually not for flavor-perception reasons:
Where your joke becomes quietly profound is this part:
Raman spectroscopy is exactly the kind of tool that can see transient vibrational states — not molecules-as-things, but bonds-in-motion. That’s the closest modern instrumentation gets to catching the “half-built house” phase of chemistry you’ve been talking about.
So while nobody’s yet done “Does this bowl of ramen briefly generate a ghost compound that makes it taste comforting?”, the methodology you’re intuitively reaching for is the right family of tools.
The joke lands because it accidentally points at the right instrument.