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QuoteWould you eat a cookie that was made from plastic?
Technically, we're all ingesting an ungodly amount of plastic already, in the form of micro- and nanoscopic particles in our food.
But now, researchers from Southern Illinois University (SIU) Carbondale are trying to get us to eat the stuff on purpose.
It takes the form of cookies they call µBites, which, if you know your scientific notation symbols, is pronounced "microbites".
They may sound even less appetizing than all the bugs we might have to eat in the future, but these cookies have undergone a whole lot of processing to make them (theoretically) safe to eat, nutritious, and hopefully tasty.
The research started as part of NASA's Deep Space Food Challenge, and the team has just presented it at a symposium organized by the American Chemical Society.
"Converting (biodegradable) food-grade plastic into food is feasible," Lahiru Jayakody, microbiologist at SIU, told ScienceAlert.
"The µBites system is a tunable and portable device that integrates all necessary components... These units could be deployed in submarines or disaster relief vehicles to produce on-demand, on-site food.
"The process is particularly suited for using carbon waste in extreme environments such as deserts, the Arctic, or the Antarctic to make food – and yes, potentially one day on Mars or the lunar surface."
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QuoteWith billions of people experiencing hunger in 2025 and unable to afford a healthy diet, food insecurity remains a critical global challenge. "µBites", originally developed for the NASA Deep Space Food Challenge, represents a novel way of producing nutritious food by converting plastic and plant waste into edible, protein-rich supplements.
Beyond space travel, µBites could offer a promising solution to address both food shortage and plastic pollution simultaneously. We have previously demonstrated the successful 3D printing of edible, µBites protein cookies using plastic-derived substrates and yeast biomass. In this study, we demonstrate the enhancement of flavor, aroma, and color of these cookies using naturally produced ingredients by safe-to-eat yeast strains, Saccharomyces boulardii, S. cerevisiae, and Rhodosporidium toruloides.
We engineered S. cerevisiae to produce vanillin, the compound that is responsible for vanilla flavor and aroma, from ferulic acid. Adaptive laboratory evolution of R. toruloides enhanced its utilization of ethylene glycol as a carbon source to produce β-carotene, a vitamin A precursor. We demonstrated the production of these ingredients from waste biomass and plastic-derived substrates and combined with the yeast-derived protein to produce nutritionally enhanced 3D-printed "µBites".
This project's outcomes will revolutionize the production of next-generation microbially derived food ingredients from waste organic carbon, contributing to a circular economy of plastics.
QuoteWhen you're looking at a thread of social media bots sharing the same five replies to AI-generated slapfights between anthropomorphic fruits, it can be hard to remember the internet used to be a lively place. Enthusiastic message boards, blogs dedicated to any niche you could find in any hobby, news and culture websites as renowned for sharp commenters as their stable of writers. This was a time when your blogroll was nearly as important as your friend list, a period where a well-curated feed on Google Reader (RIP) denoted good taste as much as a co-sign from the arbiter of taste Derek Guy does today.
The web never quite reached the global utopian vision of its 1990s early adopters, but for about two decades it was a good hang. Like a neighborhood bar or a bowling alley, the internet was a place you could reliably go to have fun and occasionally learn something from semi-strangers who shared your interests. The internet was rife with what sociologist Ray Oldenburg called "third places," a space separate from home and work that encouraged social interaction and bred cohesion in communities.
"Third places remain upbeat because of the limited way in which the participants are related. Most of the regulars in a third place have a unique and special status with regard to one another," Oldenburg wrote in his 1989 book "The Great Good Place." "It is special in that such people have neither the blandness of strangers nor that other kind of blandness, which takes zest out of relationships between even the most favorably matched people when too much time is spent together, when too much is known, too many problems are shared, and too much is taken for granted."
Oldenburg was pushing back against restrictive zoning and suburbanization, arguing that fully residential neighborhoods weakened the societal fabric of the United States. For a time, the internet did put a Band-Aid on this problem, bringing isolated communities together and providing the sort of crosstalk they couldn't hear on the abandoned sidewalks of gated developments.
At the risk of dating myself even more than I already have, I had a few websites that I visited daily from the family room of my suburban home. Often I'd sign on to read the takes of sharp commenters over the writers who provided the digital parlor.
In the same way I'll now swing through my local bar or corner coffee shop to see who's around, back then I'd find time every day after school to give the forums and comment sections a once-over. I'd scroll down and take in a guerilla column from a reader with an unprintable name and profile picture of a crudely drawn yellow Pokemon with a phallus for a nose. A bit farther down, I'd find the poster who spoke only in comments lifted from forums about the mallcore metal act Avenged Sevenfold. Heading over to the Gawker network of websites — prior to its Peter Thiel-backed demolition — I'd find what the nation's bored lawyers had to say about news from the worlds of gossip, pro sports (Deadspin) and sci-fi (i09). While never quite as gratifying or grounding as a true third place you had to physically visit, these online hubs were the closest thing to cafes and churches that the infrastructure of the internet could offer.
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