Kings’ Day Catastrophe: Can NIR Save the Day?

The call came in the dead of night.

Antonio Carlos, owner of Spain’s most renowned bakery chain, paced his office with his phone clutched tightly to his ear. His voice, usually calm and commanding, trembled.

“The lab results are in,” he said. “Some of our cakes have tested positive for… something. They’re calling it a contamination.”

It was a disaster. Three Kings’ Day was just around the corner, and his Roscón de Reyes cakes were a beloved tradition that had graced family tables for generations. Now, they were on the verge of being ruined.

“We haven’t changed a thing in decades!” he exclaimed to his wife, Chloe. “How could this happen?”

Chloe, ever the voice of reason, offered, “I’ve heard about these food detectives. Maybe they can help?”

Meanwhile, back in the detective’s office, Cornlumbo was gleefully recounting his holiday-eating exploits to his colleagues, much to Miss Mapple’s dismay. “If you don’t stop eating like that, your corn will pop one day,” she huffed.

Holmes interrupted, laying out the details of the case. “Spain’s finest bakery chain is in crisis. Something’s contaminating their cakes, and they need answers. Fast.”

Miss Mapple frowned. “There are countless versions of a Roscón de Reyes. Pinpointing the issue will take precision. We’ll need more information.”

Before Holmes could assign the case, Cornlumbo leapt to his feet. “I’ll go!” he declared.

“Of course, our resident greedy gannet volunteers,” quipped Miss Mapple. “Just don’t eat the evidence.”

At the factory, Cornlumbo was struck by the sheer scale of production. Conveyor belts whirred as hundreds of golden cakes passed by, their citrusy aroma filling the air. Antonio, looking frazzled, explained the situation.

“We send random cake samples to an external lab for analysis. This provides information for labeling requirements, such as fat and protein content. One sample was flagged, but the rest were fine. We don’t know what’s wrong, and if we stop now, we won’t meet demand. What do we do?”

Cornlumbo stroked his chin. “What if you didn’t have to guess? What if you could analyze every cake without cutting them open?”

Antonio blinked. “You have X-ray vision now? Incredible.”

“Not quite,” said Cornlumbo. “I’m talking about NIR spectroscopy. By using NIR sensors, you can analyze the status of your cakes almost instantly. By analyzing the dough in its homogenous state, you could get immediate information about the status of your produce, and any anomalies could be rectified instantly without ruining entire batches,” explains Cornlumbo.

“NIR sensors, these will be able to look inside the cakes?” asks Antonio. 

“Near-Infrared (NIR) spectroscopy is a technology that uses light to analyze the chemical composition of materials without touching them. When NIR light shines on something—like flour, milk, or even a finished cake—it interacts with the molecules inside and reflects back a unique ‘fingerprint’ that tells us what’s in it. In general, NIR penetrates the samples only for a few mm, hence why a homogenous sample is ideal for analysis. NIR is fast, accurate, and works in real-time. By installing NIR sensors throughout your facility, you can monitor your cakes to ensure they meet quality standards, ensure consistency in your recipes, and even check the final products' moisture, sugar, protein, and fat levels. 

Antonio’s eyes widened. “And this would work on raw materials too?”

“Exactly. It’s like having a lab on the production line, helping you reduce waste, improve efficiency, and maintain the highest quality cakes every time,” explains Cornlumbo.

With no time to lose, Antonio installed NIR sensors throughout the facility. Within hours, the anomalies were traced to cakes baked on Tuesdays between 3:30 and 5:30 PM.

“But why just Tuesdays?” Antonio wondered aloud.

Cornlumbo examined an affected cake. He sliced it open, then froze. “Sweet baby Jesus!” he yelled.

“Please mind your language, Cornlumbo, I don’t like blasphemy,” says Antonio.

“I wasn’t being blasphemous; it is literally baby Jesus; look!” says Cornlumbo, holding up a small plastic baby Jesus that had been partially melted during the production process. 

Antonio gasped. “How did that get in there?!”

“It’s tradition to include a figurine in the cake for good luck, isn’t it?” Cornlumbo asked.

“Yes, but we include them separately in the box—not inside the cakes! It’s a choking hazard!”

Antonio stormed off to interrogate his staff. No one confessed to tampering, leaving him more flustered than ever.

Then Cornlumbo had an epiphany. “What time does school let out in Spain?”

“Three o’clock,” Antonio replied, confused.

Cornlumbo smirked. “Set up a camera by the figurine boxes and check the footage after 6 PM on Tuesday. In the meantime, let’s pull all the contaminated cakes.”

By Tuesday evening, the culprit was revealed: Antonio’s young nephew Jose, freshly dismissed from school, had been sneaking figurines into the cakes “for fun.”

“Tradition, tío! Abuela always lets me put it in the cake,” Jose protested when confronted. Antonio sighed but couldn’t help laughing. “You almost sank my business in the name of tradition, niño!”

Back at the detective’s office, the team eagerly awaited Cornlumbo’s return. A loud truck beeped as it backed into the alley.

Miss Mapple darted to the window. “What on earth?”

Cornlumbo burst in, beaming. “I saved the cakes! And I brought the evidence.”

Miss Mapple stared out the window, aghast. The truck’s trailer opened to reveal hundreds of “contaminated” cakes.

“Happy Three Kings’ Day, everyone!” Cornlumbo announced.

“Wonderful,” Holmes said dryly. “We’ll have to solve the case of the vanishing office waistlines next.”

And with that, the food detectives celebrated their sweetest success yet—one slice at a time.