Medicine Takes Notice

Only a few years after Courtois announced his discovery, Swiss physician Jean-François Coindet found that small doses of iodine could shrink goiters — often dramatically. Goiters are enlargements of the thyroid gland, located at the base of the neck, caused most commonly by a lack of iodine in the diet. 

Goiter was endemic in many parts of Switzerland, and Coindet suspected that the old folk remedy of using dried or ashed seaweed (or sponges) to cure it might indicate that iodine would be an effective remedy. He was right. Rarely had a new element made such an immediate medical impact.

Courtois and Coindet jointly won an award from the French Academy of Sciences in 1831 for their contributions to medicine. At the time, no one realized how widespread iodine deficiency truly was, nor how crucial iodine would prove for brain development and general health. 

Why Goiters Form

Goiters develop when the thyroid cannot make enough hormones due to lack of iodine. To compensate, the gland enlarges, sometimes dramatically. Iodine is present in seawater and coastal soils, but glaciation, flooding, and leaching stripped it from many inland regions. The result was a global patchwork of iodine-deficient zones.

In the United States, this included the Great Lakes, Appalachia, and parts of the Pacific Northwest — regions that became known collectively as the “goiter belt.” During World War I draft exams, Michigan physician Simon Levin found that more than 30% of local registrants had enlarged thyroids, sometimes severe enough to disqualify them from service. Around the same time, Ohio physician David Marine demonstrated in a landmark study that iodine dramatically reduced goiter rates in school-age girls.

Where Salt Comes In

Iodine is essential not only for preventing goiter but also for producing the thyroid hormones that regulate metabolism, support heart and digestive function, and play a critical role in fetal and infant brain development. For public health officials, the question quickly became how to supply iodine cheaply and universally. Salt — inexpensive, widely consumed, and used at predictable levels throughout the seasons — was an ideal candidate. 

Switzerland adopted iodized salt in the early 1920s. In the United States, University of Michigan pediatrician David Cowie pushed for a similar approach, arguing that fortifying table salt could eliminate simple goiter (the kind caused by iodine deficiency) nationwide. His effort succeeded: Iodized salt appeared on Michigan shelves on May 1, 1924.

There were occasional setbacks, including outbreaks of iodine-induced hyperthyroidism among adults with long-standing nodular goiters, but the public health benefits were overwhelming. Within a generation, goiter rates plunged across former deficiency regions.

Iodized Salt Today

More than 120 countries now require iodization of all food-grade salt. Globally, the percentage of households consuming iodized salt rose from about 25% in 1990 to roughly two-thirds today. (Though the health benefits of iodine had been known for decades, uptake was slow in certain parts of the world, due in part to public relations battles.) It remains one of the cheapest and most effective nutritional interventions in the world.

The United States takes a voluntary approach. Most table salt is iodized, but many processed foods rely on non-iodized salt, and labeling iodine content is not mandatory. Even so, iodine intake is supported by dairy (where it occurs thanks to cleaners used on teats and milk cans; iodine is also a disinfectant), seafood, grains, and eggs, and widespread deficiency has been largely prevented.

Still, an estimated 2 billion people worldwide remain iodine deficient, especially where iodized salt is scarce or costly. Some countries fortify bread instead or distribute iodized oil capsules.

Courtois set out to make gunpowder more efficiently and ended up uncovering an element that transformed global nutrition. The violet vapor rising from a seaweed vat in 1811 eventually led to a simple solution — adding iodine to everyday salt — that has prevented goiters, improved cognitive health, and safeguarded generations against a once-common deficiency.

Truffles

Truffles have commanded extraordinarily high prices for centuries, since long before they became a modern luxury. Their mystery only amplified their value: For much of European history, no one knew exactly how truffles formed, and around the 14th century they were even thought to be the food of witches. Not until 1711 were they recognized as a fungus, and it wasn’t until the 19th century that their association with tree roots was understood. By then, truffles were already firmly established in aristocratic cuisine — so prized that French food writer Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin called them “the diamond of the kitchen,” while Italian composer Gioachino Rossini reportedly dubbed them “the Mozart of mushrooms.”

This mushroom’s cost reflects its persistent scarcity. Even today, truffles can’t be reliably cultivated on a large scale and must be foraged by trained dogs. (Pigs tend to eat the prize instead of handing it over.) White truffles can fetch $3,000 to $5,000 per pound, and a 4.16-pound specimen sold at a Sotheby’s auction in 2014 for $61,250 (about $84,000 today). Seasonality, delicate handling, and rapid transport needs further elevate the price of this long-beloved treat.

Pineapple

In 17th-century England, the pineapple was one of the most extravagant status symbols imaginable. Fresh specimens were so rare that a single fruit could cost the modern equivalent of thousands of pounds, making it a luxury reserved for royalty and the elite. Because England’s climate couldn’t support tropical fruit, gardeners cultivated pineapples in hothouses — known as “pineapple pits” — requiring enormous expense in fuel and specialized care. 

The fruit quickly became a marker of prestige: Hosts sometimes rented pineapples purely for display at banquets, and portraits from the era even depict nobles presenting the fruit as a sign of wealth and global reach. The pineapple’s scarcity, exoticism, and difficulty of cultivation turned it into a culinary trophy, far more often admired than eaten, and one of the most coveted foods in early modern Britain.

Caviar

Caviar — particularly beluga caviar from sturgeon in the Caspian Sea — became a luxury in Europe in the 19th century, when dwindling wild populations and rising demand elevated it from a regional staple to an elite delicacy. Its price reflects the long maturation of sturgeon, which can take more than a decade to produce roe, as well as the meticulous processing required to salt and grade each batch. 

The rarest variety, Almas caviar, is sourced from albino beluga sturgeon and often packaged in 24-karat gold tins; it can cost more than $35,000 per kilogram (roughly $15,900 per pound). Caviar’s scarcity increased sharply in the 20th century as overfishing and habitat loss reduced sturgeon stocks, cementing it as a symbol of wealth and exclusivity. Today, even with aquaculture, top-grade wild caviar remains among the most expensive foods ever traded.

Bird’s Nest Soup

Bird’s nest soup has been a luxury in Chinese cuisine for centuries — a delicacy made from the hardened saliva nests of swiftlets, which cling high on cave walls. Harvesting them has always been perilous, requiring expert climbers and creating a built-in scarcity that pushed prices sky-high. 

In imperial China — especially during the Ming and Qing dynasties — the nests were reserved for nobles and elite banquets, prized for their rarity, supposed medicinal properties, and gelatinous texture when cooked. Even today, the soup can cost you $100 a bowl. The value remained high because each nest took weeks for a bird to build and was often damaged if not removed carefully. By the 19th century, entire maritime trade routes connected Southeast Asian nesting sites to Chinese markets. Even today, top-grade nests can cost thousands per kilogram — a testament to their centuries-long reputation as one of the world’s most unexpected luxury foods.

Ambergris

Ambergris — the waxy, grayish substance expelled by sperm whales — is one of history’s strangest and most valuable edible luxuries. It’s been called both “the treasure of the sea” and “whale vomit” (although it actually comes out of the other end of a whale). Formed in a whale’s intestines, ambergris originates as a protective secretion, then hardens at sea into a pale, rocklike mass. When it washes ashore, it can fetch thousands of dollars, prized less for appearance than for its extraordinary scent, described as a blend of forest-floor leaf litter and the delicate underside of mushrooms.

Though best known today for its use in elite perfumery, ambergris entered English cookery by the 1660s. Luxurious puddings, custards, and possets often called for it, pairing its sweet, earthy aroma with ingredients such as rose water, nutmeg, and almonds. By the 18th century, ambergris was used to flavor gelatins and medicinal drinks before tastes shifted. 

Today, ambergris occupies a legal gray zone: It’s still prized in the U.K. and European Union, where beachcombers can scavenge for it, but it’s banned in the United States due to whale protection laws. Where it’s legal, finding some ambergris on a beach can bring about a hefty payday. In 2012, one large piece found on a beach in England was estimated to net about $65,000 (close to $92,000 today).

Black Peppercorns

Black pepper seems ordinary now, but for much of history it was a prized and often prohibitively expensive spice. In ancient Rome, pepper was valuable enough to be used for taxes, tribute, and even ransom, and by the medieval period it was known as “black gold.” Its cost came from long-distance trade through India and the Middle East, where merchants guarded routes and supply tightly. 

Pepper’s portability made it especially valuable: A single sack could represent enormous wealth. In some European regions, peppercorn rents were paid to landowners, and elite households kept pepper locked in its own storage box. As demand rose through the 15th century — fueled by European tastes for heavily spiced cuisine — pepper became one of the central commodities driving exploration and early global trade. Its eventual affordability reflects just how valuable it once was.

Silphium

Silphium may be the ancient world’s most legendary lost luxury. A resinous plant native to North Africa — especially around the Greek city of Cyrene (in modern-day Libya) — it was so prized that it appeared on local coinage and was exported throughout the Mediterranean. Writers such as Pliny the Elder praised its medicinal and culinary powers, noting its high price and limited supply. 

Silphium’s value came from extreme scarcity: It resisted cultivation, grew only in a narrow coastal strip, and was harvested faster than it could regenerate. That meant it was often traded at prices comparable to precious metals. Yet by the first century CE, demand from Greek and Roman elites pushed the plant to extinction. Silphium’s disappearance became a symbol of overharvesting and luxury excess — an ancient food and medicine so expensive it vanished from history entirely. Recently, however, botanists have found a species in Turkey that may be the plant or a close cousin.

Eggnog

Eggnog’s ancestor was a medieval English drink called “posset” — warm milk curdled with wine or ale, spiced and sweetened. Once eggs were added, the drink became a treat for the wealthy and usually aristocratic, as milk, eggs, and fortified wines were expensive in England during the Middle Ages. But in the American colonies, eggs and dairy were more plentiful, and rum far cheaper than sherry, making eggnog a more democratic holiday indulgence. George Washington famously served a potent version containing rum, rye whiskey, and sherry. The drink’s name may come from “noggin,” the wooden cups that held it, or from the name “egg-and-grog” being shortened over time as the order was shouted in bars.

Fruitcake

Fruitcake may get mocked nowadays, but its roots go back more than two millennia. Ancient Romans ate a similar dense mix of barley mash, nuts, dried fruit, and honeyed wine called satura — an early type of energy bar that fueled soldiers and travelers. Some historians also trace dried-fruit cakes to ancient Egyptian burial customs. 

As sugar became more widely available in medieval and early modern Europe after the Crusades, candied fruits and spices transformed the loaf. By the Victorian era, fruitcake had become a festive staple for Christmastime, in part because the amount of labor it took to create it was best suited to the holidays. It was also once a popular type of wedding cake, and was even served at the wedding of Prince Albert and Queen Victoria.

The Yule Log 

Before it was a rolled sponge cake topped with chocolate “bark,” the Yule log was an actual log — a massive piece of wood burned during Christmas or the winter solstice. English records from the 1600s refer to the “Christmas block,” which was generally hauled into the house with ceremony (plus some merriment) and believed to bring good fortune. As hearth traditions faded in the 19th century, Parisian bakers reinvented the log as a dessert, known as the bûche de Noël, complete with meringue “mushrooms,” powdered-sugar “snow,” and other delightful accessories.

Mince Pies

Mince pies began as a very different dish: a medieval spiced meat pie containing beef or mutton, suet, dried fruits, and warming spices such as cloves and nutmeg. Early mince pies were large and could feed a crowd, unlike the finger food variety we have today. The pies became associated with Christmas around the 1600s, although they could also be served at other holidays and feasts. Around the mid-1600s, Puritans in England disapproved of indulging in them (as they disapproved of all Christmas-related frivolity), yet the pies endured. Over the centuries, the meat gradually disappeared, leaving behind the sweet, rich mincemeat we know today.

Stollen

Germany’s famed Christmas stollen — a sweet, yeasted bread filled with dried fruit, candied citrus peel, and sometimes marzipan — began as something far humbler. In the Middle Ages, stollen was a simple fasting bread made of water, oats, and the local rapeseed oil, since church rules forbade butter in the Advent period before Christmas. But by the 1400s, various popes relaxed the rules a bit. In 1491, Pope Innocent VIII granted the “Butter Letter” (Butterbrief in German) to the Duke of Saxony, allowing Saxons to enrich their stollen dough with butter. Over time, stollen evolved into a celebratory Christmas bread, its folded, sugar-dusted shape said to represent the swaddled baby Jesus.

Beer

Bread for breakfast seems totally normal to our modern sensibilities — but beer for breakfast? Not so much. In ancient Egypt, though, beer was a primary source of nutrition, consumed daily by the working classes. (The upper class typically favored wine.) Unlike modern brews, the beer of ancient Egypt was often opaque, thick, and more like a soup or gruel. 

Made from barley or emmer wheat, the beer was typically quite low in alcohol content, around 3% to 4% — but still enough to start the day with a spring in one’s step. (Beer prepared for religious festivals and celebrations was normally of better quality and had a higher alcohol content.) The beverage was also sometimes issued as payment, and laborers — including those who built the pyramids of Giza — were provided with a daily ration of about 10 pints. 

Green Onions

What goes well with bread and beer for breakfast? Green onions, of course. In ancient Egypt, a simple breakfast of bread, beer, and green onions was fairly typical, providing enough energy for a laborer to get through much of the day. Green onions, also called scallions, were among the most common vegetables in ancient Egypt, and were valued for more than just their flavor and nutritional value. The Egyptians believed that onions warded off evil spirits, protected against the evil eye, and also cured most ailments, making them a fine way to start the day. 

Garlic

As they did with green onions, the ancient Egyptians regarded garlic as having culinary, medicinal, and protective qualities. Garlic formed part of the daily diet of many Egyptians, and was considered a key food for maintaining and increasing strength. Because of this, it was given to workers involved in heavy labor, including those who built the pyramids. It’s uncertain whether the Egyptian elites consumed garlic with such frequency, but historians do know that it was used in rituals. Well-preserved garlic cloves were also discovered in the tomb of Tutankhamun.  

Dates 

Egypt is the world’s top producer of dates today, yielding around 1.7 million tons annually. And dates were just as popular back in ancient times. They could be eaten fresh or dried for preservation, and the fruit’s high sugar content made it an ideal sweetener. Dates were sometimes baked into bread, and may occasionally have been added as a flavoring agent in beer — providing some necessary sweetness to counteract the green onions and garlic. When dates weren’t available, figs could serve a similar role in any ancient Egyptian breakfast. 

Honey

While most ancient Egyptians used dates and figs as sweeteners, those who could afford it used honey. Ancient beekeepers collected honey by making cylindrical hives out of mud and clay, which they kept on rafts to allow for seasonal movement along the river. Wealthier Egyptians could afford this superior sweetener, which they would eat for breakfast with their bread, or use to sweeten beer and cakes. Honey nut cakes, made with tiger nuts (a type of tuber), were particularly popular among the aristocracy. 

The ancient Egyptians also valued honey for its medicinal qualities, using it to treat wounds and soothe coughs. And, when mixed with garlic and the âfai plant, honey was considered highly effective at keeping ghosts at bay, making it the perfect breakfast ingredient for anyone looking for a little extra protection for the day.  

Baker’s Chocolate (1764)

Perhaps surprisingly, the baking chocolate in our favorite homemade desserts owes its name to its founder, not its use. Baker’s Chocolate began in 1764 in Dorchester, Massachusetts, when Irish immigrant John Hannon, a chocolate maker, and physician James Baker established a small mill on the Neponset River to grind cacao beans into drinking chocolate. When Hannon disappeared on a cocoa-buying voyage in 1779, Baker assumed full control and began marketing the product under his name. 

In 1823, the company was formally incorporated as Walter Baker & Company, named for Baker’s grandson Walter. At the time, chocolate was consumed primarily as a beverage — Baker’s didn’t start manufacturing sweetened chocolate bars until 1849. The company went through multiple ownership changes during the 19th and 20th centuries but continued producing chocolate under the Baker’s name, which remains in use today as part of the Kraft Heinz Company.

King Arthur Baking Company (1790)

The company now known as King Arthur Baking traces its origins to 1790, when Boston merchant Henry Wood founded Henry Wood & Company to import and distribute flour. In 1896, the company — by then operating as Sands, Taylor & Wood — introduced its own flour brand under the name King Arthur Flour at the Boston Food Fair. 

The company relocated to Norwich, Vermont, in the late 20th century and officially adopted the name King Arthur Flour Co. Employee-owned since 2004, the company updated its name to King Arthur Baking Company in 2020, maintaining continuity of its 19th-century brand name while reflecting its broader range of baking products. 

Keebler (1853)

Keebler began in 1853 when German immigrant Godfrey Keebler opened a small bakery in Philadelphia. From there, he took on business partners and eventually incorporated under the name Keebler-Weyl Baking Company. In 1927, the business became part of the United Biscuit Company of America, which went on to adopt the Keebler brand name for all of its products in 1966. But it wasn’t until 1969 that the first Keebler elf — dubbed J.J. Keebler — was introduced in a television commercial. In 1936, Keebler-Weyl became the first commercial baker of Girl Scout Cookies; today, a division of Keebler, Little Brownie Bakers, continues the tradition.

Campbell’s (1869)

The company now synonymous with tomato soup began in 1869 in Camden, New Jersey, as a partnership between Joseph A. Campbell, a fruit and vegetable merchant, and Abraham Anderson, a commercial canner and packer. The business was initially called Anderson & Campbell and produced canned tomatoes, vegetables, and jellies. In 1895, the company introduced its first jar of ready-to-eat beefsteak tomato soup. Two years later, in 1897, chemist John T. Dorrance developed the firm’s condensed soup process, allowing it to be packaged in cans, and the following year the company introduced its iconic red-and-white soup can label. In 1922, the name changed to The Campbell Soup Company, and in 2024 it became The Campbell’s Company. 

Pillsbury (1869)

At the recommendation of his uncle, Charles A. Pillsbury invested in a struggling Minneapolis flour mill in 1869. The business thrived under his management and he expanded operations along the Mississippi River, renaming the company Charles A. Pillsbury and Co. In 1889, the company was purchased by an English financial syndicate and merged with other holdings to become the Pillsbury-Washburn Flour Mills Company, Ltd. The Pillsbury family eventually regained ownership in the 1920s and incorporated the business as the Pillsbury Flour Mills Company in 1935. Ownership changed hands in subsequent decades and the historic company was acquired by General Mills in 2001. 

Quaker Oats (1877)

The Quaker Oats story began in 1877, when Henry Seymour and William Heston founded the Quaker Mill Company in Ravenna, Ohio, and trademarked the Quaker Oats name and image of a Quaker man to distinguish their oats from competitors. The struggling mill was bought a few years later, in 1881, by entrepreneur Henry Parsons Crowell, who turned the brand into a national name with the first magazine ad campaign for a breakfast cereal. 

In 1888, the Quaker Mill Company joined six other oat producers to form the American Cereal Company, which pioneered modern packaging and marketing. By 1891, Quaker was printing recipes — such as Oatmeal Bread — right on its boxes, another industry first. The company officially became The Quaker Oats Company in 1901, and a century later, after a 2001 acquisition by PepsiCo, the name evolved to Quaker Foods and Beverages.

Eating Black-Eyed Peas on New Year’s Day

In the American South, eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day is a common tradition and superstition said to bring luck and prosperity throughout the year ahead. When enslaved Africans brought black-eyed peas to America, the beans were initially used as food for livestock and enslaved people only. Black-eyed peas gained wider acceptance during the Civil War, when they were one of the few foods left untouched by Union troops, who considered them animal feed. Southerners therefore managed to survive on black-eyed peas during the winter, and so began the association with good luck and prosperity, and the tradition of eating them on New Year’s Day. 

Breaking the Wishbone

Breaking the wishbone of a cooked chicken or turkey is a common Christmas practice in the United Kingdom and a Thanksgiving tradition in the United States. Objectively, it’s a very strange thing to do, no matter how much luck might be up for grabs: It involves making a wish while pulling the bird bone in two with another person, and the person who gets the bigger piece will have their wish granted.

The origins of this peculiar superstition are debatable. One common theory goes all the way back to the ancient Etruscans, who saw birds as potent oracles. They extracted wishbones from chickens, dried them in the sun, and then touched the bones as a form of divination. The Romans picked up this practice later, by which time the bone was being snapped in half, possibly to double its power. The Romans then introduced the concept to Britain, and it eventually found its way to the Americas via English settlers. 

It’s hard to say whether the superstition really has such a long and storied history with a direct link all the way back to the Etruscans. We do know that the wishbone-breaking tradition as we know it today existed at least as early as the 17th century or early 18th century, when the bone was known as a “merrythought.” The term “wishbone” first appeared a century or so later. 

Double-Yolk Eggs Bring Good Fortune

Statistically, about one in every thousand eggs has a double yolk. So, if you regularly crack open and cook eggs, there’s a chance you’ll come across one at some point. For the superstitious, an egg with two yolks is widely considered a sign of impending good luck. It’s not known where or when this superstition emerged, but the reasoning behind it is clear to see. Eggs have long been associated with life, rebirth, and potential, making a double yolk a natural candidate for a symbol of abundance, prosperity, and good luck. Double yolks are sometimes regarded as a sign of an upcoming marriage, or that a woman will soon become pregnant with twins. 

Blowing Out the Candles on a Birthday Cake

The superstitious tradition of blowing out candles on birthday cakes has surprisingly ancient origins. Some historians believe it goes as far back as the ancient Greeks, who may have made cakes adorned with lit candles to honor Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and moon. This, in turn, was adopted by the Romans, who helped spread the tradition.

In modern Europe, the ritual of celebrating birthdays with a cake and candles — as we do today — has been around since at least the 18th century. One of the first documented accounts comes from the 1746 birthday party of Count Ludwig Von Zinzendorf, a German bishop, who had a massive cake covered in candles. At this point, in Germany at least, the act of extinguishing the candle flames was seen as a way to carry desires up to the gods — not dissimilar to how we blow out candles and make a wish today. 

Eating 12 Grapes at Midnight on New Year’s Eve

The tradition of eating a dozen grapes on New Year’s Eve comes from Spain, and while the origins are still debated, it dates back to at least the 1880s. According to some historians, the Spanish bourgeoisie decided to imitate the French New Year’s celebration of drinking champagne by skipping the middleman and going straight for the grapes. Others suggest the tradition began as a shrewd marketing tactic by grape growers who had a surplus harvest to unload in the early 1900s. 

Either way, the ritual caught on: By eating one grape at each of midnight’s 12 clock chimes, you are destined for a lucky year, with each grape representing one of the 12 forthcoming months. The custom soon spread throughout Latin America, in countries as diverse as Cuba, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Argentina, and Peru. Some Latino populations in the U.S. have also maintained the grape-eating superstition.