Smell
Dimethyl sulfide is said to have a characteristic cabbage-like smell that becomes highly disagreeable at higher concentrations. While some report that DMS has a low olfactory threshold that varies from 0.02 to 0.1 ppm between different persons, it has been suggested that the stench (and cabbage smell?) attributed to dimethyl sulfide may in fact be due to di- and polysulfides and thiol impurities, since the odor of dimethyl sulfide is much less disagreeable after it is freshly washed with saturated aqueous mercuric chloride. Dimethyl sulfide is also available as a food additive to impart a savory flavor; in such use, its concentration is low. Beetroot, asparagus, cabbage, corn and seafoods produce dimethyl sulfide when cooked.
Marine phytoplankton also produces dimethyl sulfide. Andrew Johnston, of the University of East Anglia, has characterized DMS as being the "smell of the sea". It would be more accurate to say that DMS is a component of the "smell of the sea," another being pheromones of algae called dictyopterenes.
Dimethyl sulfide is also an odorant emitted by kraft pulping mills, and a byproduct of Swern oxidation.
Dimethyl sulfide, dimethyl disulfide and dimethyl trisulfide have been confirmed as volatiles given off by the fly-attracting plant known as dead-horse arum (Helicodiceros muscivorus). The plant fools flies into pollinating it by emitting an odor like rotting meat, which is an attractive food source for flies.
Read more about this topic: Dimethyl Sulfide
Famous quotes containing the word smell:
“They haven’t got no noses
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.”
—Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874–1936)
“But, when nothing subsists from a distant past, after the death of others, after the destruction of objects, only the senses of smell and taste, weaker but more enduring, more intangible, more persistent, more faithful, continue for a long time, like souls, to remember, to wait, to hope, on the ruins of all the rest, to bring without flinching, on their nearly impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)
“One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.”
—Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979)