Natalie Whittle

Books

Bylines

The Observer •

We still don't know how the mouth works

Every few months, in a laboratory outside Paris, an artificial mouth has its tongue pulled out.Glowing a resinous orange, as if the mouth had just necked a sports drink, the tongue is cast in silicone from a human volunteer – faithfully reproducing all the minutiae of the tip and papillae tongue buds, though it can’t actually taste anything. The fake mouth will never savour steak frites or tackle something complex such as candy floss. Instead, researchers at France’s National Research Institute...
The Bell •

The secret ‘smart-canal’ trying to solve Glasgow’s housing crisis

The old man in the canal had thinning grey hair, bald on top. He floated along in dark trousers and a waistcoat knit, jacketless — and seemingly dead — on an October day in Glasgow, 1935. Pulled out onto the Possil Marsh towpath, his bad luck was even clearer: right eye missing from its socket, no teeth, not breathing. Mouth-to-mouth stirred him a little, but at the Royal Infirmary his death was recorded without a name. Among his clothes, the only identifier was a locker key inscribed with the n...
The Bell •

The rocky politics of Glasgow's hills

Ishan Babel decided a while back that he was “making a fool of himself” by sticking to a job in engineering that he didn’t much love. The 26-year-old, from Indore city in central India, knew that some might see it as “a bit rogue” to quit his salaried career path. But it was still what he wanted to do. That, and a month-long mountaineering course.

Ishan Babel decided a while back that he was “making a fool of himself” by sticking to a job in engineering that he didn’t much love.

The 26-year-ol...
The Bell •

Rethinking rain in the UK's soggiest city

When Andrew Hoolachan moved to Glasgow after a decade in London and Cambridge, he was immediately struck by the city’s rain. Even for a Dundee native, Glaswegian rainfall had a special quality, Hoolachan felt, as well as a constant boots-on, hoods-up volume. “It was the size of the raindrops,” he says. “And you could smell the Atlantic.”That Glasgow is a wet city is not news to anyone. It is famously, and by far, one of the soggiest cities in the UK, collecting on average 1370mm from the skies e...
Financial Times •

The late-bloom success of Lorna Robertson and Andrew Cranston

Andrew Cranston and his partner Lorna Robertson paint in adjoining studios separated by a bare concrete wall. North light filters through high windows at the back of the building on the river Clyde in Glasgow – a steady light that does not streak like the southern sun. It is rather grey, but good, Cranston says, for the unhurriedness that both artists need.

Standing in his studio’s symphonic arrangement of calico scraps, spineless old books, saucepans (used for canvas bleaching), bright stalagm...

Crisps! (I wrote a book about them...)

The Times •

I tried 100 crisps — these are the 10 best for New Year’s Eve

At the risk of sounding like the Mrs Beeton of snacks, I have a friendly caution to offer about crisps at parties. They may seem like easy catering — shove them into bowls, place strategically around the room like golden potpourri, and behold happy guests. But not all crisps are created equal. I should know. As the author of Crunch: An Ode to Crisps, I’ve eaten well over 100 varieties of crisp and what I’ve learnt is that, when it comes to successful party catering, you need to think about quali...
The Guardian •

The crunch, the flavours, the rituals: how crisps became a British snack obsession

In May, the UK government launched its “Prepare” emergency awareness campaign, ominously encouraging people to stock up on things such as bottled water, a wind-up radio and non-perishable foodstuffs. I’ve collected a few cans of soup but, more successfully, I’ve quietly been stockpiling the Co-op’s sea salt and chardonnay wine vinegar crisps (in the big bags), just in case. Like millions of British people, when I say I love crisps, I really mean it.Crisps are the ideal survival product, sealed a...
Financial Times •

Confessions of a crisp addict

I have always and I will always love crisps. As cashiers check banknotes, I hold each crisp up to the light and admire its soak of industrial, golden oil, wondering at its unrepeatable, fried imperfections. A raw potato slice, now creatively misshapen and curled. All the while, I anticipate the crunch.

Most obsessions end. But this one replenishes itself. I will keep eating crisps, and yet they will never diminish. By the time I reach the bottom hem of a packet, crumbs and splinters are there,...