Latest news with #Pillsbury
Yahoo
4 days ago
- Science
- Yahoo
This Government-Funded Snack From The '60s Was Originally Made For Astronauts
Back when going to the moon was the world's hottest topic, companies were doing whatever they could to get a piece of the pie. Brands were sending their products straight to space, and customers were eating it up. Omega debuted a watch fit for spacewalkers, and Tang pushed advertisements for space-approved soda, but Pillsbury — under contract with the U.S. government — was more focused on the astronauts heading to the stars than the consumers on the ground. Pillsbury was tasked with creating the first space-safe solid food by none other than the Quartermaster Food and Container Institute of the United States Armed Forces in the early '60s. The company started with teeny condensed food cubes, which were chowed down by NASA astronaut Scott Carpenter on the Aurora 7 in the summer of 1962. A few years later, NASA had another assignment for Pillsbury: create an energizing snack that could fit through an astronaut's helmet. The airtight suits didn't make it easy, but Pillsbury delivered with Space Food Sticks. The nutrient-packed snack was like a chewy chocolate power bar squeezed into a thin tube, which made it a hit for not just astronauts but growing kids everywhere. Before it was a popular lunchbox snack, Space Food Sticks accompanied Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong to the moon in 1969. Read more: 15 Vintage Snacks No One Remembers Anymore The energizing snack may have been made exclusively for astronauts, but it was a far bigger hit on Earth. Early advertisements for Space Food Sticks declared they were "developed by Pillsbury under a government contract, in support of the U.S. aerospace program" — but that language didn't last long. Into the next decade, Pillsbury began running ad campaigns for the astronaut-endorsed snack, but more geared towards Earthbound folks. The concept of Space Food Sticks integrated seamlessly with the other space-themed commercials of the time, making them an instant sensation. In later ads, Pillsbury kept it simple, labeling Space Food Sticks as a "balanced nutrition snack." Buzz and Armstrong only got a taste of the original chocolate flavor, but Pillsbury introduced dozens of other varieties over the years. Each flavor seemed to hang onto the "chewy" descriptor, with added flavors like peanut butter, orange, caramel, and chocolate mint. There are dozens of vintage snacks that no one really remembers anymore, but Space Food Sticks should never be forgotten. Only a few years after they were introduced, Pillsbury dropped the word "space" from the label, shortening them to just Food Sticks, but the legacy lives on. Read the original article on Tasting Table.
Yahoo
28-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Layoffs likely as General Mills announces $130M 'transformation'
General Mills is preparing to make what could be a sizable number of layoffs as it prepares for a $130 million "transformation." The Golden Valley-based food giant, which counts Cheerios, Pillsbury and Betty Crocker among its best-known brand names, submitted a filing to the SEC this week in which it revealed it had approved a "multi-year global transformation initiative." The actions are expected to cost the company $130 million by 2028, but $70 million of that will be incurred in its current quarter, and will "primarily" comprise severance payments. The company recently reported quarterly net sales of $4.8 billion, down 5% on a year ago, with an operating profit of $891 million, down 2%. There are no specific figures for potential layoffs or where they will occur. General Mills is the 37th biggest employer in Minnesota with an estimated 3,500 workers, according to state figures. Bring Me The News has reached out to General Mills for further comment. The company wouldn't be drawn on layoff numbers when asked by the Star Tribune, saying its main priority was "returning to growth," while acknowledging "this news represents hard choices."
Eater
23-05-2025
- Business
- Eater
Popular Durham Pop-Up Lutra Brings Its Big Buns to Brunch
Chef Chris McLaurin has amassed a loyal following in the Triangle for his baked goods since popping up as Lutra Bakery in early 2024. He recently announced that Lutra will become a counter-service restaurant in the American Tobacco Campus in Durham by the end of 2025. McLaurin's pop-up bakeshop offers sweet and savory buns with flavors like strawberry lavender, pistachio lemon, cinnamon vanilla, and pepperoni. The forthcoming brick-and-mortar will offer more variety with breakfast and lunch offerings like biscuits and gravy, eggs Benedict, salads, and sandwiches. McLaurin, a Chapel Hill native, says he started Lutra with a focus on buns because they reminded him of his childhood. 'It makes me this of Saturday mornings, watching cartoons,' he says, 'My mom made Pillsbury buns, but she would put an orange glaze on them. I always loved those.' Prior to starting Lutra, McLaurin was the chef de cuisine at Poole'side Pies in Raleigh, before it closed in 2023. Since Lutra launched, McLaurin has sold over 10,000 buns to hungry fans. If you want a taste of Lutra before the American Tobacco Campus opening, McLaurin is popping up with a brunch series at Indian restaurant Cheeni from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. on Sundays at 202 Corcoran Street, Suite 100, Durham. Look for sweet and savory buns, granola bowls, breakfast sandwiches, bread pudding, and more. Sign up for our newsletter.
CNN
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CNN
I brewed beer with the Pinter, and it's as easy (and tasty) as baking cookies
The Pinter is the cookie dough log of brewing beer. Hear me out: Baking cookies at home isn't hard. You only need basic ingredients, like sugar, eggs, butter, chocolate chips, etc. Make the effort to combine them all, and you'll have warm, gooey, comforting cookies coming out of your oven in no time. But there's an easier way: You could head to any grocery store and buy a log of premade dough — you know, a Nestlé Toll House or Pillsbury classic — and get an equally delicious result. Heck, you could even pick up some Oreos. Any option will satisfy that sugary craving. Brewing beer at home has the same options. You could source the ingredients — like grains, hops, yeast — and follow the (somewhat complex) steps to turn them into beer. With the Pinter, though, all the ingredients show up at your door, completely prepped, measured and ready to brew with only one real tool: the Pinter itself. And just as a store-bought log of cookie dough hits the same sweet spots as Grandma's homemade recipe, beer from the Pinter refreshes like true home brewing or a trip to a brewery would. Since we live in a world where beer subscription boxes mean all sorts of IPAs, stouts and lagers are only a few clicks away, I understand any hesitance. Is making beer at home even worth the effort? And how much commitment does the Pinter require if you're considering picking one up for yourself or as the perfect gift idea for the beer lover in your life? Now that I've brewed several batches with this nifty little device, I have answers. Pinter Brew and Draft Machine Self-contained and legitimately fun to use, the Pinter is a giftable home-brewing device for those new to the craft. Each batch makes 12 pints of easy-drinking, good-tasting beer. Though it might seem expensive at first glance, the brand's frequent promos offer a free Pinter when you buy ingredients, which you'll need anyway. I can brew real beer without the bother Prev Next I wanted to test the Pinter as part of a larger examination of home-brewing kits. What I found during that journey were several complicated, intimidating processes that didn't appeal to me as a novice brewer. Boiling grains and hops, sanitizing tools, waiting out lengthy fermentation, siphoning into bottles — every step felt like another chance to mess up a delicate procedure. And even though those kits came with just about everything I needed to brew, finding a home for them when I was done was just as stressful as actually using them. (The pile of stuff in the corner of my apartment may or may not have put a strain on my marriage.) My experience with the Pinter has been the total opposite. It's completely self-contained, with every step happening inside the keg-shaped unit that's smaller than a Thanksgiving turkey. The ingredients arrive in boxes about the size of a paperback novel. What's more, there is no bottling because it has a tap for draft pours built in. Unlike other home-brewing kits, the Pinter does much of the work for you. Nearly all the ingredients arrive premixed in what the brand calls a Fresh Press. Essentially, instead of cooking grains and hops in a giant pot on your stove (where precise temperatures and close monitoring are paramount), you receive the result of that process in a sealed sleeve. Cut it open, pour the syrup (a malt extract that includes water, sugar and hops) into the Pinter with some water, then let the countdown begin. It's much easier dealing with that goop than it is turning your kitchen into an all-out brewery. An app that does the hard part Though brewing with the Pinter isn't as simple as pouring in the Fresh Press and hitting play, it's not much more difficult than that with the Pinter's easy-to-use app. It breaks down the process into six stages: purifying, brewing, hopping, conditioning, tapping and cleaning. Don't worry if those sound like big words; each step within the stages is animated and explained on your phone within a swipeable interface. It's like being able to watch a tutorial as you go, every time. Purifying is about as simple as adding hot water and the included packet of sodium percarbonate — a main ingredient in OxiClean — to the Pinter and running that cleaning solution through the whole device. Brewing isn't much different: in goes water, your Fresh Pack (the goop) and yeast, then give the Pinter a healthy shake. (There are handles on both sides to aid your grip.) After that workout mixes up your soon-to-be beer, another plastic attachment known as the brewing dock gets screwed on to the end of the Pinter. It's where all the unwanted byproducts of fermentation will collect, leaving the good stuff in the Pinter itself. Hopping is an optional stage only required for certain beers, where you pour a small vial of hop oil into the back of the Pinter to mix with the beer as it conditions. This adds flavor to, say, the double IPA you're brewing. Conditioning is really just a waiting game. Its only real step is to remove the brewing dock (this gets a little messy) and then let the beer reach full flavor in the fridge. The next step is drinking! Sounds easy enough, but is all this done in only a few minutes? Yes and no. It doesn't take long to perform the different stages, but there is a waiting period between some of them. You can't rush science, after all. Brewing and conditioning are the real culprits here, with each taking about five days. You can adjust to shorter durations if you want, but I generally followed the brand's recommendations. The good news is that everything is clearly spelled out for you in a color coded calendar in the app. If you run into any problems, there are FAQs in the app, and it's always possible to go back to previous instructions if you get ahead of yourself. As someone who is strictly a beer consumer and not a beer maker, the learning curve was not steep. The beer is actually good I'd consider myself a fairly serious beer drinker. I love trying something local whenever I travel, whether that's a new bar in a different part of my home state or on a brewery tour during a vacation to Belgium. Pale ales, creamy stouts, crisp lagers — I'll drink anything except a sour beer. For some reason, I just can't get my taste buds to accept those. All this is to say I know a decent beer from a junk one. And the beer I've made in the Pinter is more than adequate; it's quite good. The Stars & Stripes American Pale Ale has been my favorite beer brewed in the Pinter so far, and it was also my first. (Perhaps that says something about how easy it is to get terrific results from this device.) It was hoppy but not to the extent of most IPAs. My favorite word to describe a beer is 'crushable,' and it certainly applies here, with the ABV coming in at roughly 4.5%. If there's a specific style you fancy, there are Pinter Packs — a branded term for the boxes that include all the ingredients for a batch — available via a subscription or one-off purchases that can supply all sorts of different beers. Pinter usually has a few collabs with breweries in its online shop, and ciders and seltzers are on the table as well. A fun gift at a good price Testing the Pinter has been a one-man task for me, but I see its best use as something shared with friends. If I were hosting a watch party for a big game or having family over for a weekend barbecue, throwing back a couple of homemade beers that come out of my own tiny keg would make hosting fun. If you know a beer drinker who loves to raise a glass with pals, the Pinter adds a personal twist to that timeless ritual. Still, you've probably been drinking beer for years without a strong desire to make it yourself. The experts have a pretty good grip on the situation, and they can do it in a much more cost-effective manner, right? Well, the Pinter isn't that expensive. I routinely see discounts on the brand's site where the actual device is free ($149 at full price) if you buy two brewing packs ($26-$36 each) via subscription. The subscription, which can be canceled at any time, doesn't get you anything besides free shipping on your initial order. Let's say you get in on a promo and select the Dark Matter stout ($30) and BrewDog Hazy Jane IPA ($36). Each pack makes 12 pints — I measured one of my brews and found this accurate — so that's $66 for 24 pints. Does $2.75 per beer sound reasonable to you? Sure, you might be able to get a case of a domestic beer for far less, but that price isn't all far-fetched compared to craft beers. I've bought four-packs from some of my favorite breweries at a steeper rate. Plus, the entertainment value has to be good for something. Even if that free Pinter promo isn't running when you want to buy, there are giftable bundles that make the initial cost more palatable. The mid-priced option is $199 but includes a $100 voucher that can be spread across the recipient's first two subscription orders. You're on Pinter's timeline The waiting game is the biggest downside of committing to brewing with the Pinter. Sure, it's easy to use, and yes, the beer is actually good, but there's a fair amount of planning that goes into it. I don't know about you, but I don't usually know what or with whom I'll be drinking 10 to 14 days in advance. If you have some buddies over and your Pinter is still conditioning, you'll have to drink something else. It's fair to mention that this is the case with any home-brewing setup. Just realize the Pinter is not immune to the realities of how long it takes to make beer. Leaky tap Having a draft beer tap in my fridge or on my counter is a luxury that I used to think would require an expensive kegerator. The Pinter broke that mold but brought along a risk of legit mold with it. Whenever I let go of the tap to dispense a pint, a brief stream of beer leaks out from the nozzle about five seconds later. This meant puddles of beer dripping onto my kitchen floor or fridge shelves, enough that I absolutely needed to clean it up to avoid a nasty situation from festering. After a while, I got so sick of the issue that I stuck a paper towel underneath the spout after pouring. The leak isn't a deal breaker, but it's an inconvenience nonetheless. I had seen the Pinter around on social media for a while and always wondered if it might be too good to be true. It's that easy and the beer tastes like the real deal? Where's the catch? After testing it myself, I haven't found one. The Pinter doesn't require a degree in beerology because everything you need is shipped to your door and explained on the smartphone that never leaves your side. The end product is tasty enough that I'd be proud to share it. Maybe the Pinter isn't the most authentic experience for people who already have serious home-brewing setups, and that's OK. This is for people who like beer, making things and having fun. You know, the kind of people you'd want to have a beer with. Cheers. Do I need to keep my Pinter in the fridge? Do I need to keep my Pinter in the fridge? Yes. The ideal temperature for conditioning — the final stage before you can drink your beer — is 34 degrees Fahrenheit. You should also keep the Pinter in the fridge after you initially tap it unless you plan on dispensing it all at that time. Can I use my own ingredients with Pinter? Can I use my own ingredients with Pinter? I wouldn't recommend it unless you're an expert home brewer. I have heard of instances of people pulling it off, but the appeal of the Pinter (and its Pinter Packs of ingredients) is that everything is prepackaged to make brewing as easy as possible. How long does beer last in the Pinter? How long does beer last in the Pinter? Up to 30 days. During testing, I did wait out the last few pints of a brew for this long. While I did notice a drop in quality, it wasn't enough to make me want to pour the beer down the drain. CNN Underscored has a team of skilled writers and editors who have many years of experience testing, researching and recommending products, and they ensure each article is carefully edited and products are properly vetted. We talk to top experts when applicable to make certain we are testing each product accurately, recommending only the best products and considering the pros and cons of each item. For this article, associate testing writer Joe Bloss put the Pinter through multiple cycles to find out if this simple home brewer actually makes decent beer. Bloss has performed product testing in the kitchen and home spaces for CNN Underscored for more than a year, recently reviewing the best backpack coolers and the Ninja FlexFlame propane grill.
Boston Globe
08-05-2025
- Business
- Boston Globe
Clarence O. Smith, a cofounder of Essence magazine, is dead at 92
'We had to overcome this perception,' he said in an interview. 'Clarence suggested that we start telling the story of Black women as strivers.' Mr. Smith, who as the magazine's president was in charge of advertising and marketing, made the initial pitch to reluctant companies that there were 12 million Black women in the United States who controlled a market worth more than $30 billion, and that the magazine would target 4.2 million of the more affluent among them -- women between the ages of 18 and 45 who were urban, educated, and had increasing discretionary income. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up A confident and charming extemporaneous speaker, Mr. Smith had come well prepared with market research, colleagues said, but his challenge was evident from the outset: The first issue of the magazine carried only 13 pages of advertising, and the second and third issues fared even worse, with just five pages of ads apiece. Advertisement But while the magazine, with offices in Manhattan, continued to face obstacles, its prospects improved: Circulation went from an inaugural run of 50,000 copies sold to eventually topping 1.1 million. The number of advertising pages grew to more than 1,000 yearly, attracting Estée Lauder, Johnson & Johnson, and Pillsbury among other companies. And the rate for a full-page color ad went from $2,500 to $48,000 by 2001, according to Mr. Smith. Advertisement 'Clarence was a relentless champion for the leadership of Black women and the impact of our spending power that was ignored,' Susan L. Taylor, the magazine's editor-in-chief from 1981 until 2000, said in an interview. The seed for Essence began to germinate in November 1968, when a small group of Black professionals -- Lewis, Cecil Hollingsworth, and Jonathan Blount, all strangers to one another -- met at a Wall Street conference held to encourage African American entrepreneurship. Mr. Smith joined the group two weeks later. It was a time of social and civil unrest in the United States, with urban riots, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy, and the Vietnam War in its deadliest year. But it was also a period -- at the intersection of the Civil Rights Movement and the Black women's empowerment movement -- of increasing opportunities for the creation of Black-owned businesses. The concept of a magazine for Black women was championed by Blount, according to Taylor. 'His mother would say, 'Why do I have to read magazines where I see no one who looks like me?'' she recalled. Mr. Smith, who had been a top salesperson for Prudential insurance, had been the most successful of the four original partners and the oldest, Lewis wrote in his memoir, 'The Man From Essence: Creating a Magazine for Black Women' (2014). He was also the only one with a car. Astutely, he persuaded Ford, General Motors, and Toyota to buy ads, something they had seldom done in women's publications. Advertisement The first cover of Essence featured model Barbara Cheeseborough, who wore an Afro and a look that suggested authenticity as an equal to glamour. Inside there were photographic essays on fashion and beauty, celebrating models of diverse skin tones. One article, headlined 'Sensual Black Man, Do You Love Me?,' explored the topic of Black men dating and marrying white women. Another article focused on women who were active in the Civil Rights Movement, from Rosa Parks to Kathleen Cleaver of the Black Panther Party. Given a preview of the inaugural issue, Philip H. Dougherty, The New York Times' advertising correspondent, called it a 'handsome piece of work.' Clarence O. Smith was born March 31, 1933, in New York City to Clarence Smith and Millicent Frey (sometimes spelled Fry). He grew up in the Williamsbridge section of the Bronx. In a 2005 interview with NPR, Mr. Smith described the neighborhood of his youth, mostly Black but with integrated schools, as a collegial place where parents taught their children values of both self-improvement and selflessness. 'We had a responsibility to grow up to be people who made a productive life and who looked after the larger community as well,' he said. At Essence, to please advertisers, he pushed for more ads to be placed in the front pages and encouraged the magazine to produce special issues devoted to beauty or travel as ways to reach advertisers in those particular industries. He also hired an advertising sales staff made up predominantly of Black women, noted Marcia Ann Gillespie, editor-in-chief of Essence from 1971 to 1980. Advertisement 'The resistance of white businesses to associate with a Black women's magazine was really intense,' Gillespie said, and Mr. Smith, she added, 'was always trying to find a way through and around and was relentless about it. Failure was not on his to-do list.' Mr. Smith played crucial roles in expanding the entertainment side of Essence with an annual awards show that honored Black women, and with a culture and music festival that continues to draw roughly 500,000 attendees to New Orleans each July. 'He was a futurist,' said Barbara Britton, a former vice president of advertising at Essence. Of the original four founders, Mr. Smith and Lewis were the only ones who remained with the company long afterward. But their 32-year partnership began to deteriorate in the 1990s over a tangle of issues, personal and professional. Their final disagreement, in 2000, was over the sale of 49 percent of Essence to Time Warner. Mr. Smith opposed it. Lewis wrote in his memoir that it was his belief that Mr. Smith 'didn't want to see a viable Black-owned company sell out to whites.' By 2002, Lewis owned more stock than Mr. Smith and had gained the upper hand in the company. Mr. Smith was forced out and received a buyout of $14 million after seeking $40 million, Lewis wrote. The two seldom spoke afterward. After leaving Essence, Mr. Smith started a record label and a travel business. Essence sold the remaining 51 percent of its ownership to Time Warner in 2005. (In 2018, the magazine was sold to Richelieu Dennis, the founder of a large personal-care products company, and became fully Black-owned again. Today it publishes six issues a year and has a robust online presence.) Advertisement Along with Boyd, his niece, Mr. Smith leaves his wife, Elaine (Goss) Smith, and a granddaughter, Denise Diaz. The Smiths' two sons, Clarence Jr. and Craig, died before him. Lewis said Mr. Smith should be celebrated for helping to validate the value of Black female consumers and to shape the way Black women were perceived. 'He came across as authentic, really believing what he was selling, backed up by research,' Lewis said, recalling the magazine's early days. 'We were always prepared, because we knew that we were selling a market that no one wanted to be a part of.' This article originally appeared in
