You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
There will not be one type of cultured chicken. There will be kosher cultured chicken, halal cultured chicken, and ... vegan cultured chicken?

When you’re a vegetarian, you get used to dealing with sneering, horrified, nosy, and bewildered questions of “...but why?!”
My own well-practiced answer — designed to minimize confrontation — goes something like this: I was raised not eating red meat and then when I was a teenager, I became obsessed with our cultural disconnect from our food and decided that if I couldn’t stomach killing and preparing an animal myself, then I had no right to eat it. But don’t worry, my husband eats meat! I’m not judgmental!
The truth is actually much more complicated and nuanced (my “long version” includes anecdotes about my stint at a wildlife rehabilitation center, my father’s heart attack, and an explanation of why I eat meat when I travel abroad), but I usually don’t get that far when talking with strangers. That’s because what we eat and why are deeply personal questions that can touch on everything from one’s religious beliefs to their code of ethics, cultural and philosophical values, health, and concerns about environmental impact. Every person who observes dietary restrictions around meat has spent at least some time — perhaps very little, maybe every single day — privately weighing these considerations.
Then earlier this week, the U.S. Department of Agriculture threw all of that carefully considered reasoning out the window by approving the sale of lab-grown chicken.
Don’t get me wrong: This is incredible news. Around 15% of global emissions come from livestock farming (including dairy and eggs), and it would likely be impossible to get everyone on the planet to switch to a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle. Indeed, for animal rights activists, “cell-cultivated” or “cultured” meat has long been akin to cold fusion for food — that is, a science-fiction solution that theoretically fixes everything.
But now, using cells harvested from live animals, companies like Upside Foods and Good Meat are able to safely grow animal fat and muscle tissue in stainless steel tanks, resulting in what is essentially slaughter-free animal protein for human consumption. When I spoke with the influential animal welfare philosopher Peter Singer a few months ago about the ethical quandaries of eating meat during the climate crisis, he’d cited such advancements in cultured meat (at the time, only available in Singapore) as an exciting, if far-off, opportunity, telling me “if we can get that economically competitive, maybe that’ll be a solution to the problem.”
The widespread proliferation of cultured meat is admittedly still a long way off. For the time being, lab-grown chicken will only be sold in select U.S. restaurants and an enormous amount of scaling is required for cultured meat to begin to replace industrial farming. There are also concerns that current production methods are not actually more sustainable than live-animal farming. Plus, there is a squeamish factor of “meat grown in tanks” to be cleared.
But the USDA approval is still nothing short of a game-changer. “I’m vegan for ethical reasons, and so if people can enjoy the familiar tastes of meat and textures of chicken and whatever else without animals dying, then that’s a huge win in my book,” Nisha Vora, a vegan recipe developer and cookbook author who runs the YouTube channel and blog Rainbow Plant Life, told me. Still, “it will be weird to eat chicken!” she admitted.
Vora isn’t sure yet how much lab-grown meat will factor into her future recipes, explaining that many of her followers are interested in whole foods and cooking that is meat-adjacent, “so I don’t think I have a huge swath of my audience that’s really like, ‘oh, I can’t wait for meat,’ you know?” She observed, though, that lab-grown meat could potentially make labor-intensive parts of some of her recipes, like her popular vegan Crunchwrap Supreme dupe, easier and quicker, albeit not quite as healthy. “If you are vegan for health reasons, or you’re plant-based for health reasons … then maybe that’s not what you want to be eating,” she pointed out.
Omnivores might be scratching their heads at these fine nuances, wondering why they’re a big deal: No animals are killed, can’t you people ever be happy? But it’s actually the fact that the animals aren’t killed that might prevent a quarter of the world’s population from eating lab-grown meat.
Many religions have customs regarding meat consumption, including Judaism, Hinduism, certain denominations of Christianity, and Islam — groups that together make up approximately half of the global population. That means there is a lot of confusion and theological debate when it comes to cultured meat. As The Washington Post once memorably put it, “If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, tastes like a duck, but you’re not supposed to eat a duck, does God consider this ‘cheating’?”
The answer is, it depends.
Take halal, the Islamic laws governing food. A number of rules must be met for meat to be considered permissible to eat, including proper slaughtering of the animal. It is, for example, forbidden to eat an animal that dies naturally and becomes a carcass. This is an essential technicality for the 25% of people globally who keep halal.
“Any severed part of a surviving (land) livestock animal can become a carcass” — including its cells, one recent Malaysian study explained. As such, lab-grown meat would only be halal if the animal the cells were collected from was “slaughtered according to the Shariah law.” Such an interpretation has been echoed by religious authorities in Pakistan and Indonesia, the two countries with the largest Muslim populations. (Kosher-slaughtered origin animals may be acceptable in the eyes of rabbis, too, although Jewish authorities have gone back and forth on the matter).
But using cells from a slaughtered animal might be a non-starter for some hardcore animal rights activists since the shift makes the lab-grown cells ever so slightly less cruelty-free. PETA has long been a proponent and backer of cultivated meat, although on the grounds that “no animal died for it.” As PETA’s Catie Cryar clarified for me, “It is our hope that the original process used to obtain cells will be superseded by scientific advances, but at the very least, our goal would be to have no additional animals slaughtered after the original cell lines were obtained.” That means there is potentially a world in which even cultured meat gets labels distinguishing it as either “vegan friendly” or “halal and kosher” (currently, most cultivated meats are made from live-animal cells).
Hindus, meanwhile, may not eat cultured beef regardless of its origin due to the sacred status of cows, one 2020 survey found, although overall Hinduism was “the only religious group who were … more willing to eat cultured meat than conventional meat … perhaps highlighting the motivation to avoid harming animals.” And of course, all of this generalizes the positions of enormously diverse world religions — every worshipper will have their own perspective.
Then there is a whole other sect of non-meat-eaters that we’ve largely ignored: those who abstain for health reasons. While meat substitutes on the market today are made from plants, lab-grown meat is still animal meat. But that also means eating cultured steaks isn’t any better for you than eating real steaks. Even if cellular meat does eventually take off, there will be plenty of people who avoid it simply because they don’t want to include meat in their diet, no matter what its animal or, uh, tank of origin is.
Now let me guess, you nosy Nelly — you’re wondering at this point what I am going to do? I admit my thinking has been all over the place. Sure, when it comes to my animal-ethics-forward viewpoints, there should be nothing stopping me from eating lab-grown meat. I’m a big believer in open-mindedness and adaption and I fully support lab-grown meat being available on the wider market. But I also enjoy the health benefits of eating plant-based, and it’s conceptually just strange to think of myself eating chicken protein even if no chickens were harmed in the making of my meal.
Mostly I just think it’s funny how one little USDA stamp of approval has the potential to unmoor my entire identity as a vegetarian — whatever that even means anymore. We’ll probably need to come up with new terms to distinguish between people who don’t eat animal proteins, period, and people who don’t eat slaughtered animals.
I’m sure, also, that there will eventually be a need for a term to describe meat purists who avoid tank-grown proteins. Then at last it’ll be my turn to snort and ask, “...but why?!”
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Five takeaways from the latest Lazard Levelized Cost of Energy report.
It’s all getting more expensive.
That’s the conclusion of the investment bank Lazard’s latest report on the levelized cost of energy, one of the most closely watched and cited energy reports of the year.
Levelized cost of energy measures the dollars per megawatt-hour a power plant needs to earn in revenue to break even over the course of its lifetime in present-value terms.
What makes LCOE so alluring is that it’s a way to compare any type of generator, whether it requires a large upfront investment but has few operating costs, like a utility-scale solar project, or whether its expenses are largely fuel costs incurred in the future, like a combined cycle natural gas plant. This is also why LCOE has its critics, who point out that a solar panel that only runs during certain times of day has a different value to the electricity system than a natural gas plant that can ramp up and down quickly or a nuclear plant that provides steady baseload power.
Anyway, here’s what we can learn from this year’s Lazard report.
Curves that were once gently sloping downward are starting to look like incipient U’s. While longterm LCOE falls are still dramatic and impressive for some technologies — utility solar has fallen from $359 per megawatt-hour in 2009 to $69 in 2026 — the short term rises are worrisome. That $69 per megawatt hour represents a nearly 10% increase from 2025, when utility-scale solar had a LCOE of $58. And it’s not just renewables — the LCOE for a combined cycle natural gas plant rose from $78 per megawatt-hour to $90 in the past year. Gas plant LCOE got as low as $60 in 2021. That’s a 50% price hike in just five years.
Lazard attributed the increase in solar and wind LCOE to “higher capital costs, sustained interest rates, tariff pass-through and supply chain repricing.” These technologies are also the most “sensitive” to subsidies by way of the tax code, with federal tax tax credits taking the low end cost of utility solar to as low as $16 per megawatt hour. To the extent those tax credits are no longer available or weren’t accessible due to strict eligibility rules, that could be a source of future upward pressure on costs.
That being said, renewables “maintain their relative cost advantage despite facing the same cost pressures affecting the rest of the generation stack,” the Lazard analysts concluded.
Natural gas, meanwhile, is seeing prices spiral upward on huge and growing customer demand.
“Continuous upward revisions to demand projections have driven a sharp increase in announced new-build gas generation despite a 15-year high LCOE and historically long development lead times,” according to Lazard.
The report hints at what LCOE is not always able to capture, namely that generators like gas have attributes besides low cost that make them attractive. “New gas combined cycle plants offer the lowest-cost dispatchable power in high-demand and low-cost-gas environments,” the analysts point out.
Anyone building a new combined cycle gas plant, however, will have to deal with the high cost and low availability for turbines, which is “extending development timelines well beyond historical norms.” That provides an opening for renewables that can be deployed quickly and cheaply, like solar and accompanied by battery storage.
In 2019, the low end of LCOE for onshore end was $28 per megawatt-hour, according to Lazard’s figures, and the high end was $54. In 2026, however, the low end costs sits a bit higher at $37 per megawatt-hour, but the high end cost rose to $99. There’s a similar story for utility solar: in 2019, the spread between low and high was a snug $8 per megawatt-hour, while this year it’s ballooned to $58.
The broadening range is “likely reflecting that some project developers have been better able to mitigate broader cost pressures across supply chain and project-level economics than others,” the Lazard analysts wrote.
The Lazard report doesn’t just look at the discounted cost of individual generators over their lifetimes. It also tries to figure how much they cost on certain grids. One way of doing this is to look at what Lazard calls the “cost of firming intermittency” or “levelized firming costs.” This is essentially looking at what it costs to bring solar, solar and storage, and wind and storage onto actual grids considering their ability to perform when the grid is most stressed.
This measure tries to refine LCOE to give a sense of how various forms of energy generation compare to gas plants in real world circumstances, not just as a financial construct. This is not a perfect, real-world comparison — gas capacity needs to be “firmed” as well, as it’s not always entirely available at times of peak need — but at least it gives an idea of how these resources actually function in a real-world grid.
Even with firming costs, “renewables remain broadly cost-competitive,” the report concludes.
Not surprisingly, some of the most dramatic costs are in America’s most troubled electricity market, PJM Interconnection. The unsubsidized cost of firming intermittency for solar and storage is $167 per megawatt-hour, compared to $150 in Texas or $115 in California. That’s also compared to a $129 per megawatt-hour at the high end for conventional combined cycle gas plants in PJM.
PJM is notorious for its inability to bring on new resources quickly and its strict standards for accrediting the contribution of storage and renewables to grid stability.
While the Lazard authors explicitly caution that it doesn’t measure what the“total system costs are for 1 MWh of incremental electricity” and can’t say “the optimal mix of renewables, conventional generation and storage,” it does conclude that “firming costs and dispatchability are increasingly critical for comparing resources on a more complex grid.”
In short, no matter what ends up on the grid, grid planners will have to think carefully about how to make sure it’s reliable and works in concert with what’s already there.
Timber companies think of them as pests, but new research indicates that stands of the slender tree can act as barriers against raging flames.
Colorado’s Aspen Acres Fire is named after a quiet RV campground located high in the San Isabel Mountains, about a five-hour drive due southeast of the state’s better-known Aspen. Both places, however, are named after the iconic deciduous tree known for its golden leaves in the fall. While the start of monsoon season may yet prevent the Aspen Acres Fire — the seventh-largest in Colorado’s history — from joining Utah’s Babylon Fire as the second 100,000-acre “megafire” of the season, the conflagration has been aided in its rampage not by aspens, but rather by dead, downed, and blighted ponderosa pines, spruce, and Douglas firs. The wildfire has now burned over 98,000 acres and nearly 300 homes, and is only 36% contained due to steep terrain that has hampered firefighting efforts, along with extreme drought conditions and beetle infestations that have greatly degraded the forest health of the region.
But what about its aspens? Though the extent of the damage at the campground remains unknown, according to a recent study of Populus tremuloides, Colorado’s iconic golden trees could be one of the keys to more wildfire-resistant forests in the future.
Flavie Pelletier, a recent PhD graduate of McGill University’s Natural Resource Sciences program, told me she first became interested in aspens while working as a tree planter in British Columbia. “The historical assumption on aspen is that stands are very good at stopping fire progression. But the paradox is that if you take an aspen by itself, it’s going to burn at high severity,” Pelletier, who published her findings in Forest Ecology and Management, told me.
By creating near-real-time maps of fires using satellites and comparing them against the Canadian Forest Service’s newly available maps of dominant tree species in the boreal, Pelletier and her colleagues discovered that aspen were almost two and a half times more common at the perimeter of a burned area than inside it. The finding suggests that despite the flammability of a single aspen with its thin bark, stands of aspen act as a kind of barrier when wildfire ran up against them, likely because they lack the flammable resins of conifers and their high foliage helps force running crown fires back toward the ground. Pine and spruce, by contrast, showed a near-zero or even negative effect.
When aspen stands did burn, Pelletier found they did so more slowly: A tree cover of 50% aspen burned at about 224 hectares per day, compared to 717 hectares per day in areas where aspen made up less than 10% of the cover. That’s the equivalent of about 1,000 FIFA-regulation soccer pitches per day in places where aspen are sparser — like Aspen Acres.
Even more surprising, though, was that the pattern held true in the early season, when the trees are still twiggy and have yet to grow their moisture-filled leaves, and despite the severity of fire weather. “Aspen still showed resilience even when the fire weather was very intense, [like in 2023, when] we had all the fires,” Pelletier said.
But she was also the first to admit that seasons are getting more extreme, and that there’s no guarantee the pattern will hold for the next 10 or 20 years.
Pelletier was reluctant to make a policy recommendation based on her research, noting that she’s not a forest manager. But in Alberta and British Columbia, timber companies spray hundreds of thousands of acres of timber with glyphosate, an herbicide, to kill off aspens because the trees outcompete the more commercially valuable conifers. Her findings are “a big argument to stop the spreading of herbicides because you’re increasing the risk of fire in your forest by removing aspen,” Pelletier said.
Despite her hesitation, Pelletier is explicit in her paper about one thing: that aspens “should be encouraged — specifically around key landscape positions, such as population centers” — given that they are a proven means of hardening the wildland-urban interface against wildfires. It might be too late for the idyllically named Aspen Acres, of course; any of the aspens that once drew tourists to the area are likely now ash.
But this not be Colorado’s last fire, either.
Current conditions: More than two dozen locations across the Mountain West and Midwest broke temperature records Sunday as the nation’s heat wave roasted the Central United States • At least 12 people died fleeing a sweeping wildfire in Spain as hundreds of firefighters battled the flames • In Colorado, the ongoing Aspen Acres Fire has destroyed 780 structures.
During President Donald Trump’s first term, his administration’s big fight over public lands centered on the last two national monuments approved by Barack Obama on the way out of office. In 2017, Trump signed executive orders slashing the size of Bears Ears National Monument by 85% and nearby Grand Staircase-Escalante, both located in Utah, by half. Legal challenges were still pending when President Joe Biden restored the reserves to their initial size in 2021. But ABC4 in Utah reported last week that Trump planned to announce a new executive order to shrink the boundaries of the monuments yet again, likely this afternoon. “The Antiquities Act was a one-way statute when Teddy Roosevelt signed it into law. It was a one-way statute when President Trump tried to ignore it in 2017. It’s still a one-way statute today,” Aaron Weiss, the executive director of the Center for Western Priorities, said in a statement. “Just last month, Congress had a chance to weaken the management plan for Grand Staircase-Escalante and declined.”
In April, the Senate approved a House resolution using the Congressional Review Act to clear the way for a mining operation near Minnesota’s Boundary Waters, in what my colleague Jeva Lange called a declaration of “open season on public lands.”
Over the past 12 months ending in July, 56 fusion companies raised a total of $4.5 billion, a 69% jump over 2025’s total. That’s according to the latest data from the Fusion Industry Association’s annual report. Total funding since 2021 now stands at $14.2 billion, a sevenfold increase. Twice as many companies are now competing as when the report was first published six years ago. This year’s figures include major financing rounds from Commonwealth Fusion Systems, which raised $863 million last August; Inertia Enterprises, which brought in $450 million in February; Helion Energy, which raked in $456 million last month; and the European champion Proxima Energy, which netted $518 million this month.

Back in January, I told you when the price of copper hit a record high. We kept track, too, of Chilean miners’ plans to ramp up production last month. But Chile’s output of copper fell sharply in May, according to a Mining.com analysis of data from Codelco, the country’s national miner. Production from major miners such as BHP dropped over 18% year-on-year to 106,300 metric tons. The fall comes as key mines in the South American nation face declining ore quality.
The move comes right as one of China’s biggest solar manufacturers switched from using silver to copper in its panels in response to what Bloomberg described as the surging prices of the precious metal.
Sign up to receive Heatmap AM in your inbox every morning:
The world’s first commercial satellite powered by nuclear energy has launched into space after escaping the Earth’s atmosphere on a SpaceX Transporter-17 vessel. Miami-based City Labs, the company behind the launch, specializes in designing, developing, and manufacturing micro power technology based on the radioisotope tritium. The technology is meant to provide long-lasting, maintenance-free power for medical, industrial and space applications. “This is a historic step for commercial nuclear power in space,” City Labs CEO Peter Cabauy told World Nuclear News. The system “demonstrates that safe, compact, and regulatory-approved nuclear power systems are ready for routine commercial deployment.” The technology “enables persistent, always-on” operations “that are not constrained by sunlight or battery life.”
New York is behind on its development of clean energy. Its offshore wind buildout has stagnated. The state has limited space and sunlight for large-scale solar. And while Albany is positioning itself as the state leader on nuclear power with plans to construct more reactors upstate, those efforts are long term, and only just began. But one source of green power is expanding faster than expected: rooftop solar. New Yorkers installed 8 gigawatts of distributed solar capacity, putting the state ahead of schedule moving toward its legally-binding goal of 10 gigawatts by 2030. “New York continues to set the bar high as we mark another milestone for solar within our communities across the state,” New York Governor Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, said in a statement. “This is low-cost, reliable clean energy that is delivering cost savings for families and businesses while expanding the availability of renewable energy which benefits our environment, our economy and contributes to New York’s diverse energy resource mix.” That’s optimistic. But as Heatmap’s contributor Jesse Jenkins explained on our Shift Key podcast in 2023, there are limits to how big an impact rooftop solar can have on emissions.
China, as I told you last week, has been investing heavily in green hydrogen. The statement in Beijing’s latest Five-Year Plan confirms that green hydrogen, ammonia, and methanol “will play a significant role in decarbonizing China,” Hydrogen Insight reported.