The Great Microgreen Grudgematch

In order to win a debate with my wife, I am publicly posting an argument we had to my 2,000 LinkedIn followers.

That's not a humblebrag, it's a full #pompousbrag. She's about to get completely #owned. Here's what happened:

• She made some passing comment about how healthy some food item is.
• My BS radar went off (aka I got triggered).
• Then she asked me what I thought!

You can imagine my shock and dismay when I'm asked what I think about some absurdly implausible claim. My tendency to annoy, irritate, and fluster my health conscious community in Portland does not usually lead to productive conversations. These people around here are crunchier than granola mixed with Ayurvedic crystals.

But I am (sorta) trained in science, so I can't help but think critically about these things! It's not my fault that statements made in conflict with a basic understanding of physics sound preposterous and grandiose! It doesn't matter how nice it sounds, my scientific arrogance deflects emotional arguments like Earth's magnetosphere deflects cosmic radiation.

Anyway, I try to keep my mouth shut most of the time, but can't help but reply honestly when questioned. It's something of a curse.

So the claim was... that microgreens are really good for you.

Seems benign on the surface, but it's such a common sentiment about so many different foods that the aisles of Whole Foods are beginning to look like holy sites.

I call bull. False. My preconceived notion was that microgreens are hipster fluff.

That’s right, Sriracha-loving scum, I say those bunches of alfalfa and alfalfa-adjacent thingies worth $11 an ounce are overpriced, overrated, have extensive downsides, and are propped up by an actively corrupt lobby organization. In other words, the panda of health foods.

To be clear, this is my starting take. Before doing any research. Basically, this is what my lizard brain thinks. It's completely unresearched and biased–it's an opinion!

But based on what I believe is a relevant foundation: training in (mostly) dog and cat medicine. Compelling, right?

I'll smarmily die upon this little hill of marital dispute unless some hard evidence gives me reason to think otherwise. In which case I will swallow my pride and collapse like a shame-riddled orangutan.

But given my sworn commitment to maximizing the frustration of everyone around me just trying to enjoy their health foods, I decide that what would really help in this situation is to go look at some high level evidence to answer the question. Which is that microgreens have mystical healing properties.

I could just let it go and everyone would live happily ignorant of the scientific consensus on microgreens. I could just shut up and go along with the small, stringy plants fashionably topping salads. But now I really want to know.

I want to know if I'm right. So I do something really annoying, and go looking.

But don’t worry—I have a method.

Here's how you quickly ascertain the state of scientific knowledge on any given subject, in my opinion. Also, in my opinion, it works whether the topic in question is how helpful playing Mozart is to infants, or what's the breeding success rates of captive vegetarian bears.

First, I head straight to Google Scholar. Sure, I could use just normal Google, but then I'd just be searching for advertisements for the keyword "microgreens". And who do you think pays to show up first? That’s right: those palm-greasing microgrifters who started this whole fake industry in the first place! Not gonna fool me! They probably even pay off second-class search engines like Yahoo and Altavista, just in case someone gets desperate enough to use those abominations.

And because I don’t understand how to use a more reputable search engine like PubMed, I rely on my user-interface-friendly buddy, Google Scholar (GS, as we call it in the community of pedantic nerds).

Here’s what I find:

Solid hit. Over 10,000 articles that could have at least something to do with microgreens. Seems like science has thoroughly pored over this question, so I feel confident that no matter what I find, it's gonna be fairly legit.

By far the most cited article is from a journal called Trends in Food Science & Technology, which teases sexily-titled research articles like this:

T-2 mycotoxin: From occurrence and toxicokinetics to recent advances in aptasensor-based detection strategies and future perspectives for enhanced food safety

I’m in. This sounds reaaaallll science-y. The journal’s impact factor is 15.1, which makes my brain nearly explode. Impact factor, for a journal, is basically a measure of how awesome your journal is, because a lot of people like to reference it, which means they must think it's awesome, which means it's having an impact.

The article, authored by this character Kyriacou, has nearly 500 citations. That's amazing number for a single paper. It's world famous, within the world of microgreens researchers. Everyone who knows anything about microgreens knows this epic 2016 paper. For them, it's basically Vince Carter's Le Dunk du la Mort in the 2000 Olympics:

As far as I can tell, Kyriacou is more widely referenced than Copernicus. This paper is foundational. It's gold.

But I don't read it.

Why? Because it's not what I'm after. I don't want to read papers, I want to know what science thinks of microgreens. And no single paper can tell me that. So finding this god of science, Kyriacou, really only serves one purpose, and that's to get me to the next level of evidence.

At this point, I’m vibrating with excitement. I click the citation button:

With that fateful click, I'm taking to a list of 480 papers that have shown deference to Kyriacou the magnificent. I'm in the inner sanctum, everyone since 2016 who has had anything scientifically meaningful to say on microgreens will be in here. This is the knowledge I want–it contains the resolution to my petty disagreement.

I decide to get freaky with this body of evidence– if you know what I mean. Which, just to clarify what I mean, is that I bet there's so much science here that I can go fishing for a review article.

Meaning there are so many research articles about microgreens that some scientist has put those research articles into a new article! It's the Inception of scientific publishing, and it's way up at the top of the evidence pyramid. You need a lot of science on a specific subject to get one. But if you want to really know the very best state of human knowledge on a subject, or bore someone to death, you need a review article.

And I think I'm about to get lucky. My hands are shaking, but I manage to type in "review" and constrain the results.

I get a hit. Actually, to my shock and glee, I get multiple review articles! Kyriacou, you blessed soul you, you're delivering me straight to microgreen research heaven!

I've got at least three solid reviews to choose from. The one in the journal Nutrients has the best impact factor, and an impressive 382 citations, but it's from 2019–a full six years ago!! Things could have changed dramatically in the field of microgreen research since then! Some ignoramus could have imposed microtariffs on the industry, which might be based in Brazil, or Thailand, I have no idea!

I need to remind everyone that at this point I still haven't learned a single thing about microgreens. All I'm doing is combing my way through finer and finer filters to get to the purest source I can. I don't know anything yet! I have no idea if I'm right or wrong!

I do know that I'm stuck with too many questions marks, and they're beginning to look an awful lot like microgreens...

To reiterate, the only thing that I'm sure of at this point is that microgreens appear to be very well researched. Enough ink has been spilled on their scientific investigation to fill a Kraken-sized glandula atramentaria.

I'm confident the results will conclusively prove me a genius or a moron. So far, all of my effort has been digging deep into the rich scientific soil in search precious quarry. I'm like a ravenous star-nosed mole, sensing a juicy earthworm just millimeters away from my manic sense organ.

But I can't afford to get stuck here. My wife's happiness is on the line, and I must make every effort to prove her wrong.

Time for bold, decisive action.

I call in a precision strike, quickly scanning all three abstracts:

I flit over the 100-200 word summaries with intensity. Are microgreens truly the panacea I've heard so much about? Do we need to force kids to eat heaps of microgreens in order to stave off the collapse of civilization? What magical properties have those around me been absorbing through these small, edible bits of greenery!?

But there's nothing there.

Nowhere in the abstracts can I find a sentence convincing me that microgreens are actually beneficial. There's some weak-sauce scientific dribble about potential health benefits, but nothing you'd call hard science. If I'm being magnanimous, and I always am, the strongest statement I can find is this:

Increasing public concern regarding health has prompted humans to turn to microgreens which show potential in the prevention of malnutrition, inflammation, and other chronic ailments.

Potential?!

Ryan Leaf showed potential. I want proof, not hope!

I'm really fired up now. There better be something more substantial in the articles themselves. Why would they keep the amazing properties of microgreens out of the abstracts. WHAT AM I MISSING?!

So I pull up the full text of each article, and search for the word "benefits". A sentence so wishy-washy it could be labeled "triple-washed" and sold for thirty bucks a scoop pops up:

Further, the attributed health benefits of microgreens postulated are mainly based on their bioactive compounds. The number of scientific studies that have measured the direct effect of health benefits from microgreens is minuscule.

What? Everyone's telling me that microgreens will save the world, based on miniscule evidence?!

Boom. Smoked. Cover me with tinfoil and turn me into brisket. I'm done. My mind is made up, nobody can convince me that microgreens are uniquely healthy.

Just to make sure, I take a victory lap around the papers and scan for anything interesting. I get is a confusing passage about how feeding mice red-cabbage microgreens and a low fat diet led to significantly increased cholesterol levels. What you do with that information is... well, that depends on your goals regarding rodent LDL levels. I'm open.

But actually no– I just won, in what can only be described a "trouncing"– an argument with my wife, who was just trying to enjoy her dinner. I come across one more statement, and gasp in wicked delight.

It's a damning indictment against these green micro imposters, scientific proof that they are (basically, essentially) a complete waste of time:

Once harvested, microgreens easily dehydrate, wilt, decay and rapidly lose certain nutrients.

I mean, if I was holding a mic I could have just Felix Baumgartner'ed it.

How badly can you get beaten? Add on top of that, the microgreen industry is estimated to be worth at least several billions USD,^1,2 all of it (basically, essentially) wasted money! How many squirrels could we be feeding with this money?!

It's time for me to gloat in a (small, insecure) bubble of egotism, and I spend that warm glow making sure I can casually reference these articles I didn't read. Just in case some well meaning hippie tries to argue with me about how microgreens are scientifically supported. Oh no! No, no, no, no, microno....

That's right–that was my method of investigation. It goes no further than that. Is it enough to earn a PhD? No! I didn't actually read anything. I didn't evaluate anything. I didn't even bother looking at conflicts of interest. Most of my energy was spent getting to the best possible source, then I lazily skimmed. I said this was a petty argument, but I think my repressed skepticism resoundingly came out on top.

I have this glorious feeling, let's call it complete vindication, that microgreens are a false elixir aggressively marketed by a corrupt health food industry, and that in my community of coastal, urban, progressive, well-educated and entitled elites, I alone am the most enlightened.

I bask. I won.

Did I prove that that microgreens have no benefits? Not really. Did I disprove that home-grown microgreens, when freshly harvested and included as part of a healthy and balanced diet, don't improve the wellbeing of individual consuming them?

Not at all.

Did I show, beyond a shadow of doubt, that when one feels connected to their food, and respects the process of taking a living thing from microseed to microsprout to microdinner, that a wonderful and holistic process, almost mystical can occur? Did I prove that the pleasurable effects of microgreens, the psychological benefit of consuming them, aren't worth a little bit of time and effort?

I suppose I didn't. And I didn't end up improving the quality of my spousal relationship either. Or the mood of anyone in my immediate vicinity. In fact, the hill I died upon was so inconsequential we might as well call it the microAlamo. It's possible that I wasted time, effort, and attention on a patently-absurd argument instead of lavishing it on my children, wife or anyone else who might have wanted some help with any of my meager talents.

But did I find out the truth, as far as objective truth can be discovered? Well... no, I didn't do that either. But every true scientist knows that you can never prove anything, all you can do is disprove things. And when it comes to disproving inoffensive opinions of those around me, consider me a winner. Because I won–I won.

So worth it.