Open a Victorian novel and it isn’t long before one encounters a doctor prescribing, to some heartsick heroine or beloved papa, a restorative spell in a region with hot springs (Bath, in England; Spa, in Belgium).
It's a versatile mix. A pinch of Eno can turn a summer syrup into a fizzy, cool drink. (Adobe Stock)
The minerals in these springs have long been known to have healing properties. By the 18th century (a tad before the Victorian era, which stretched from 1837 to 1901), doctors in Europe were beginning to decode why.
Around the mid-1800s, then, in what is known as the Golden Age of Chemistry, scientists were discovering that minerals in spring water that made it so restorative, such as Epsom salt (magnesium sulphate) and Glauber’s salt (sodium sulphate), could also be manufactured, packaged and sold, eliminating the need for travel.
So it was that, in 1852, a British pharmacist named James Crossley Eno created a mix that he named after himself, as other food entrepreneurs of the time were doing. (Think of the German-Swiss Henri Nestle and his infant milk formula; the Swiss Julius Maggi and his powdered instant pea soup; the American Milton Hershey and his chocolate-coated caramels).
Eno called his restorative powder a “fruit salt”, not because it was meant to be sprinkled on fruit, or for its fruity flavours, but because the acids he used in the mix came from citrussy produce. He tested his mix on batches of sailors, and found that it aided in digestion. Now, the restorative had a new purpose.
By the 1940s, Eno was being advertised internationally, as a mild cure for digestive discomfort. Because its main ingredients are sodium bicarbonate and citric acid, it does provide relief during bouts of acidity. Drop Eno into water, and they combine thus:
Such solutions produce carbon-dioxide gas in the absence of heat (the bubbles one sees are in fact carbon-dioxide escaping into the air).
In the stomach, sodium citrate, the salt formed in this reaction, works as a buffering agent. Here’s why: An average adult stomach makes about two to three litres of digestive juices a day. A key component of these juices is hydrochloric acid (HCl), which helps break food down during digestion.
The stomach has its own defences against HCl. Essentially, it sheds its lining and generates a new one, about every three days.
Now, if a person goes too many hours without food, eats a lot of spicy or fatty foods, or ingests too much caffeine, the stomach acids are intensified, bubble up, and overflow into the oesophagus, causing painful acid reflux. The sodium citrate in Eno acts as a buffer, counterbalancing the acidity in the stomach and keeping pH levels temporarily stable.
An ad for the fruit salt, dating to 1911. (Wikimedia Commons)
After thus making its way from restorative salt to digestive aid, the brand underwent another transformation. By the 1980s, it was being adopted by busy homemakers, as a quick-acting leavening agent.
Numerous cookbooks and women’s magazines have listed Eno as an ingredient in recipes for dishes ranging from breads to jalebis and appams. Many home chefs in India still use it in idlis and dhoklas.
“It was adopted, particularly by beginners, because it is a far more forgiving ingredient than baking powders,” says Shubhangi Jain, a baking instructor and friend. Since it is milder, measurements need not be exact. It has no lingering aftertaste, unlike baking soda, where even a little too much can make a dish taste soapy.
Eno has significant drawbacks as a leavening agent. Where baking soda and baking powder help batter rise by producing carbon-dioxide as the mix heats, Eno reacts instantly. This means that the batter will not rise much more in the oven than it has outside it. And that’s if the batter is thick enough to trap the carbon dioxide produced. If the batter isn’t thick enough, the gas escapes before the mix is in the oven, and the result is a deflated or collapsed confection.
Idli and dhokla batters are in the Goldilocks zone, in this respect: not too thin, not too thick, but just right. As a result, Eno can help a busy homemaker do away with the long fermentation process altogether or help out an under-fermented batter, if the mix is steamed as soon as it is made.
I like to think that if James Eno had eaten a dhokla cooked in this way, he would have appreciated the inventiveness. I must admit I prefer traditional fermentation; I find that it tastes better. But I am excited about trying Shubangi’s favourite fruit-salt hack: mixing a little of the powder into Rooh Afza, for a fizzy cool drink on a hot day.
(To reach Swetha Sivakumar with questions or feedback, email upgrademyfood@gmail.com)
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