Inside the Food Labs

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omlinson next considered two flatter pancakes sandwiching sausage, with syrup poured on top. That at least looked like a stack of pancakes, but it was an impossible mess to eat. That's when the McDonald's brain trust called in an even larger brain trust and invited the outfits that supply the condiments, bread and other basic foods to a sort of flapjack summit.

As it happened, one of the company's suppliers had just patented a technology that allowed it to crystallize sugar-based concoctions like syrup. Stir crystals into the batter, and when the mix is heated, the syrup should seep through the entire pancake matrix. "You want that maple flavor in every bite," says Wendy Cook, head of R. and D.

Getting that to happen even with the new technology turned out to be a challenge. The crystal size had to be calibrated precisely so it would melt uniformly and provide a smooth texture, or as the industry calls it, mouth feel. The weight of the syrup had to be determined so when it melted it wouldn't sink to one side of the pancake. Even the grilling time had to be fixed so the pancakes wouldn't look pasty and underdone or charred and overdone. "There are very tight specs on the color of the cakes," says Cook.

In June, when all those parameters had been set, the McGriddle was triumphantly introduced. "This is a product that motivates you to go out and have breakfast," Cook says. "We're actually growing the category instead of simply engaging in a share war."

That is the dream of any food manufacturer: invent a product so imaginative and irresistible that you don't have to hijack your competitors' customers or cannibalize your own to get them to buy it. Rather, you serve them something they weren't even aware they wanted until you introduced it to them.

How to Sing the Pringles Jingle
Need proof that it works? Look at Pringles. In the closed community of snackmakers, few things inspire more awe than Pringles. Close enough kin to the potato chip that consumers have always been willing to try them, they nonetheless endure as a completely distinct species of snack. Few people know exactly what to call a Pringle — the company prefers "potato crisp"--and almost nobody can tell you how they're made. That's exactly how Procter & Gamble (P&G), the Pringles parent, wants things.

The Miami Valley laboratory where Pringles varieties are developed, outside Cincinnati, Ohio, is not an easy place to find, located along a twisting two-lane road, beyond a landfill and behind a sign. People in the lab are not about to give any product secrets away, but they are willing to share a few potato-crisp basics. Pringles are made from potatoes that are processed into flakes, pressed into sheets and cut into precise shapes. They're placed in their signature molds, fried in an oil blend and then salted and seasoned in two steps — which brings out a stronger flavor than performing both stages together. To prevent that flavor from becoming overwhelming, each Pringle is seasoned on only one side.

Where the true Pringles magic lies is in the composition of that seasoning. In general, there are a few rules anyone has to follow to create a flavor, and Pringles has mastered them. First, learn to distinguish your top notes from your back notes. For the company's massively popular sour-cream-and-onion taste, it's the sour cream that does the heavy lifting, with the onion riding lightly aboard. "The onion is a top note," says Yen Hsieh, the lead technician of the lab.

Just as important, you've got to research your market. There is a reason there's hardly a corner of the planet where you can't find a can of Pringles, and that's because P&G has taken the time to learn what people in those corners like to eat. Got a hankering for squid-flavored Pringles? No, and you're not likely to develop one. But the company is considering just such a product for the Asian market, where squid is big in snacks. Curry-flavored Pringles are popular in Britain, paprika is a hit in Germany, and a perfectly ghastly sounding ketchup Pringles is a smash in Canada.

Another challenge is knowing how to manage your flavors once you've got them. Onion, for example, is a very volatile taste, which means it tends to evaporate as the chip ages. One answer is bigger onion flakes, but they fall off the chip. P&G thus had to determine the precise micron measurement of each bit of onion flavor and make sure it never varies. It's also critical to listen to how consumers react to the flavor, even if they're not making much sense. P&G routinely tests products with focus groups and has learned to translate their feedback.