26. Treat meat as a flavoring or special occasion food
27. "Eating what stands on one leg [mushrooms and plant foods] is better than eating what stands on two legs [fowl], which is better than eating what stands on four legs [cows, pigs and other mammals]."
These two rules essentially address the same concept: the less meat in one's diet the better.
I'm conflicted on this concept. On one hand, I get the idea that, as Americans, we tend to believe that a meal = one big honking piece of meat and some other stuff, which is not only misguided, but actually completely backwards. Human beings aren't meant to eat so much meat, and until the combination of rising affluence of the United States and completely whacked-out federal subsidization of the meat industry, we didn't. It was too cost-prohibitive.
(Side note regarding that chart: Michelle Obama's crusade for healthier childrens' diets completely baffles me. What is the point of her campaign when at the very same time US government tacitly supports this massively unhealthy way of thinking and eating through its subsidies?)
And according to this totally bad-ass article from the New York Times that EVERYBODY should go read RIGHT NOW because it explains exactly what is so toxic about the overly meat-dependent diet, Americans eat twice the daily recommended intake of protein, and almost all of it from animal protein. World meat consumption has also doubled since 1961.
So I'm also all for reversing that way of thinking. I mentioned earlier that I try to make a habit of asking myself if there is just one vegetable I can add to every meal. By the same token, before preparing each meal, I ask myself if there is any way I can make it without meat. I also strive for and tally my "vegetarian days," days where (duh) I eat no meat whatsoever. Actually, today looks like it's shaping up to be a vegetarian day. An apple, homemade granola and yogurt for breakfast, salad and homemade pasta for lunch, and leftover huevos rancheros for dinner. Go me!
So, I totally, totally get that that's important. But, on the other hand, there comes a point in observing this rule that I can no longer see eye to eye with Pollan.
Pollan claims that vegetarians, as a rule, are "generally healthier," than meat-eaters, and I'm sure this is true. I'm sure there's a study out there somewhere, that proves it. Here's what I know: I was a rubbish vegetarian. I ate too much bread and cheese, too little protein. I also was (and am, if I'm going to be completely honest) not nearly creative enough or generous enough with my use of fruits and vegetables. In the words of my co-worker, who could not have said it better than me: "I was a vegetarian for a while - I got so fat and so tired."
So Pollan specifically advocates only eating meat in about two meals per week, leaving a whopping 19 vegetarian meals to figure out every week.
Now, for me, reduction in my consumption of meat came naturally for me, especially in the beginning, before I had had a chance to stock up on meat from local, non-industrial sources, because of the observation of Rule 30 (Eat animals who have themselves eaten well.) I thought maybe, as a more mature and thoughtful eater, that I would be better at being a vegetarian than I was as a teenager. That might be true up to a point, but I could also see a dozen bad vegetarian habits that I was falling right back into.
So, now that I've been to the co-op and the fancy local deli and I have an ample source of acceptable meat, I've slackened the reigns considerably. My personal goal is to have at least two vegetarian days per week, and eat meat with only one meal the rest of the time. I don't always succeed, and when I don't I'm not too hard on myself, but I think it's safe to say that this is the goal; this is what I find reasonable.
I had to be so lax about The Rules, especially in the middle of a project dedictated to observing them as strictly as possible, but I really think I'm in the right here. When I began eating meat again at age 20, I felt the effects immediately. I was less tired, more focused, had more energy. I didn't feel weighed down all the time.
I'm not one of those people who are all, "your body will always tell you what to do." In fact, I have not observed that to be the case at all. My body doesn't speak very clearly most of the time. So when it DOES, I feel obligated to listen.
After all, Pollan himself says in his introduction that food science is still relatively new. "Nobody knows what's going on deep in the soul of a carrot to make it so good for you," and, by that same token, nobody must know exactly what is going on deep within my body that makes meat so important to my health. But I know it's true. So on this rule, MP, you and I are just going to have to part ways.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Day 34
I have to share my breakfast - inspired by the food from Farm and Table. It was so successful I had it almost every morning this week. As most everyone knows, I'm working for an new restaurant in town that is not only amazing and exciting in lots of different ways, but also falls really perfectly in line with what I'm doing with this project. Also, our food is pretty undeniably amazing.
One of the items of the brunch menu is a traditional New Mexican staple, which, shamefully, I had never heard of before, called atole. Atole is a kind of cornmeal porridge made from toasted masa and here in New Mexico, it's made specifically from blue corn masa. When I tried it for the first time at Farm & Table, it was (unsurprisingly) amazing, so when I saw a bin of atole flour at the co-op while cruising for new, rules-happy meal, how could I not take some to try?
Finding a recipe online was a little difficult, since it turns out that New Mexican atole is different from traditional atole, but when I finally found one that looked right, I was surprised and skeptical about how quick and simple was supposed to be. It's basically just flour and water:
Ingredients
1 cup blue corn meal
2 cups milk
2 cups water
Sugar to taste
1/2 tsp salt
Directions
Mix blue corn meal, salt and water and bring to boil, stirring constantly. Add milk and stir until thickened. Serve hot and add sugar to taste.
See? And it actually was that easy. AND it only took about 5 minutes, AND it made enough to last the entire week.
Now, I know what amounts to a bowl of flour isn't exactly the best way to start a morning, and as a result this sadly won't turn into an every day thing, but atole is a very traditional food and thus, in my opinion, falls into the category of Rule 48 (Eat more like the French. Or the Japanese. Or the Italians. Or the Greeks), and thus, in my opinion, gets the thumbs up. Or maybe I'm just trying to justify continuing to make this delicious food.
Because, most importantly, it tasted great.
I added a little maple syrup, some walnuts and some strawberries, but the possibilities of how to dress it up are endless. My friend Monica used to add cinnamon sticks and cardemom pods to the water she boiled our oatmeal in - I'm wondering how that would taste with atole. I bet it's amazing.
I'm not sure how readily available blue corn atole flour is outside New Mexico, so this might be just a completely worthless post if you're located outside of the Land of Enchantment. But I think I've seen this brand sold all the way out in New York, so don't lose hope! It's definitely worth looking into.
One of the items of the brunch menu is a traditional New Mexican staple, which, shamefully, I had never heard of before, called atole. Atole is a kind of cornmeal porridge made from toasted masa and here in New Mexico, it's made specifically from blue corn masa. When I tried it for the first time at Farm & Table, it was (unsurprisingly) amazing, so when I saw a bin of atole flour at the co-op while cruising for new, rules-happy meal, how could I not take some to try?
Finding a recipe online was a little difficult, since it turns out that New Mexican atole is different from traditional atole, but when I finally found one that looked right, I was surprised and skeptical about how quick and simple was supposed to be. It's basically just flour and water:
Ingredients
1 cup blue corn meal
2 cups milk
2 cups water
Sugar to taste
1/2 tsp salt
Directions
Mix blue corn meal, salt and water and bring to boil, stirring constantly. Add milk and stir until thickened. Serve hot and add sugar to taste.
See? And it actually was that easy. AND it only took about 5 minutes, AND it made enough to last the entire week.
Now, I know what amounts to a bowl of flour isn't exactly the best way to start a morning, and as a result this sadly won't turn into an every day thing, but atole is a very traditional food and thus, in my opinion, falls into the category of Rule 48 (Eat more like the French. Or the Japanese. Or the Italians. Or the Greeks), and thus, in my opinion, gets the thumbs up. Or maybe I'm just trying to justify continuing to make this delicious food.
Because, most importantly, it tasted great.
I added a little maple syrup, some walnuts and some strawberries, but the possibilities of how to dress it up are endless. My friend Monica used to add cinnamon sticks and cardemom pods to the water she boiled our oatmeal in - I'm wondering how that would taste with atole. I bet it's amazing.
I'm not sure how readily available blue corn atole flour is outside New Mexico, so this might be just a completely worthless post if you're located outside of the Land of Enchantment. But I think I've seen this brand sold all the way out in New York, so don't lose hope! It's definitely worth looking into.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Day 31
25. Eat mostly plants, especially leaves.
Speaking of plants my Harvest Baskets from Skarsgard Farms have starting coming and Oh. Em. Gee. They are the best thing in the entire world. It's like every Tuesday, Santa just brings me a gift of fresh fruits and vegetables and leaves it on the front door. It is SO exciting; I get giddy on Tuesday mornings when I realize they're coming today.
The first week in the CSA, I put a cabbage in my harvest box, partly because my cousin Claire has a delcious and simple recipe for coleslaw (cabbage, carrots, vinegar, salt) but mostly on a whim, because I really have no idea what to do with a head of cabbage.
Later in the week, because of my own self-imposed, possibly-excessive rule to only eat bread that I have baked myself, I found myself in a frustrating bit of a bind. I had delicious mayo that I had taken the time to make over the weekend. I had delicious tomatoes from Skarsgard Farms. I had amazing sliced deli meat that I had taken aaaaalll afternoon to go up to Keller's, the fancy meat shop with a wide selection of local/small-farm products. The only thing I didn't have was bread.
And I really wanted a sandwich. Plus (surprise, surprise) I was running late, and I just wanted something I could grab and eat with me on the run.
So, long story short, I decided to make lettuce wraps instead, and use the leaves from my cabbage. Truthfully? I thought this was going to be a total disaster. Oh God, I kept thinking to myself, this is going to be a sad, sad lunch. I thought the cabbage would taste weird and overpoweringly cabbage-y, the inside would be bland, and the whole thing would be a wet, sloppy, slimey affair, as all my experiments with lettuce wraps have been in the past.
A ham sandwich, wrapped in cabbage leaves
I was. So. Wrong. These lettuce wraps were amazing, and held together like magic. Cabbage leaves! Who knew! I went through a phase in college when I was obsessed with the South Beach diet (don't judge), a time during which I tried my hand at a lot of lettuce wraps and they were always limp and pathetic excuses for meals. Apparently, sturdy cabbage leaves were all I needed.
Inside, I threw some homemade mayo, some dill weed, smoked ham, tomatoes, avocado and shredded carrots. The shredded carrots were another bonus: as a part of my mission to eat plants, as Pollan instructs, I make sure to take time during the preparation of every meal to think, "Is there some way for me to add just one more vegetable to this plate? The carrots were my extra vegetable here - not something I'd usually put in a sandwich, but with the lettuce wrap, it seemed like it made sense - and it did. The carrots were a subtle, crisp, fresh addition to the wrap.
But I think the mayonnaise is what made it stand out, although when I told Farm & Table's head chef about the mayonnaise in my creation, he gave me a look of total confusion and possibly even personal offense that I would do something so unpleasant with my food. So what do I know? All I know is that I made a lettuce wrap and I thought it was going to be awful, but it was fantastic instead.
A more artful cook would have found an attractive and/or edible way to keep them rolled shut... me, I used rubber bands.
In fact, now that I know how sturdy and how mild cabbage leaves are, I'm ready to stuff all kinds of stuff inside there. A turkey caprese cabbage roll, for example, with smoked turkey, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil and balsamic vinaigrette. Or a chicken fajita cabbage roll, with peppers, onions, and grilled chicken.
Needless to say, I sort of felt like I had won the jackpot. Not only did I find a healthy, flavorful, filling alternative to a sandwich, swapping the bread for cabbage makes me feel like I've taken a HUGE step closer towards eating mostly plants.
Which is a big deal to me. I make it a point to eat vegetables and fruit with every meal, and since starting this project, I always dig into the vegetables first. Still, Pollan doesn't just say "eat plants," or even, "eat plants with every meal." He says, eat MOSTLY plants. I have to admit, despite my best efforts, I still think of vegetables as a side - there aren't a whole lot of plates that utilize veggies as the main dish that I would feel totally satisfied eating. But by adding cabbage and carrots to a fairly common lunch of mine, I can add at least one to the list. And it's important, despite my shortcomings, to keep striving.
Mostly plants, Leigh. MOSTLY PLANTS.
Speaking of plants my Harvest Baskets from Skarsgard Farms have starting coming and Oh. Em. Gee. They are the best thing in the entire world. It's like every Tuesday, Santa just brings me a gift of fresh fruits and vegetables and leaves it on the front door. It is SO exciting; I get giddy on Tuesday mornings when I realize they're coming today.
The first week in the CSA, I put a cabbage in my harvest box, partly because my cousin Claire has a delcious and simple recipe for coleslaw (cabbage, carrots, vinegar, salt) but mostly on a whim, because I really have no idea what to do with a head of cabbage.
Later in the week, because of my own self-imposed, possibly-excessive rule to only eat bread that I have baked myself, I found myself in a frustrating bit of a bind. I had delicious mayo that I had taken the time to make over the weekend. I had delicious tomatoes from Skarsgard Farms. I had amazing sliced deli meat that I had taken aaaaalll afternoon to go up to Keller's, the fancy meat shop with a wide selection of local/small-farm products. The only thing I didn't have was bread.
And I really wanted a sandwich. Plus (surprise, surprise) I was running late, and I just wanted something I could grab and eat with me on the run.
So, long story short, I decided to make lettuce wraps instead, and use the leaves from my cabbage. Truthfully? I thought this was going to be a total disaster. Oh God, I kept thinking to myself, this is going to be a sad, sad lunch. I thought the cabbage would taste weird and overpoweringly cabbage-y, the inside would be bland, and the whole thing would be a wet, sloppy, slimey affair, as all my experiments with lettuce wraps have been in the past.
I was. So. Wrong. These lettuce wraps were amazing, and held together like magic. Cabbage leaves! Who knew! I went through a phase in college when I was obsessed with the South Beach diet (don't judge), a time during which I tried my hand at a lot of lettuce wraps and they were always limp and pathetic excuses for meals. Apparently, sturdy cabbage leaves were all I needed.
Inside, I threw some homemade mayo, some dill weed, smoked ham, tomatoes, avocado and shredded carrots. The shredded carrots were another bonus: as a part of my mission to eat plants, as Pollan instructs, I make sure to take time during the preparation of every meal to think, "Is there some way for me to add just one more vegetable to this plate? The carrots were my extra vegetable here - not something I'd usually put in a sandwich, but with the lettuce wrap, it seemed like it made sense - and it did. The carrots were a subtle, crisp, fresh addition to the wrap.
But I think the mayonnaise is what made it stand out, although when I told Farm & Table's head chef about the mayonnaise in my creation, he gave me a look of total confusion and possibly even personal offense that I would do something so unpleasant with my food. So what do I know? All I know is that I made a lettuce wrap and I thought it was going to be awful, but it was fantastic instead.
In fact, now that I know how sturdy and how mild cabbage leaves are, I'm ready to stuff all kinds of stuff inside there. A turkey caprese cabbage roll, for example, with smoked turkey, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil and balsamic vinaigrette. Or a chicken fajita cabbage roll, with peppers, onions, and grilled chicken.
Needless to say, I sort of felt like I had won the jackpot. Not only did I find a healthy, flavorful, filling alternative to a sandwich, swapping the bread for cabbage makes me feel like I've taken a HUGE step closer towards eating mostly plants.
Which is a big deal to me. I make it a point to eat vegetables and fruit with every meal, and since starting this project, I always dig into the vegetables first. Still, Pollan doesn't just say "eat plants," or even, "eat plants with every meal." He says, eat MOSTLY plants. I have to admit, despite my best efforts, I still think of vegetables as a side - there aren't a whole lot of plates that utilize veggies as the main dish that I would feel totally satisfied eating. But by adding cabbage and carrots to a fairly common lunch of mine, I can add at least one to the list. And it's important, despite my shortcomings, to keep striving.
Mostly plants, Leigh. MOSTLY PLANTS.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Day 29
24. When you eat real food, you don't need rules.
I mentioned this rule briefly yesterday, but I actually have a lot of thoughts on this particular rule.
A consummate dieter since my body-loathing pre-adolescence, I'm sort of mesmerized with the idea of a rules-free existence. As early as thirteen years old, I can remember cruising the mall, watching my friends buy junk food in the food court thinking pathetically, "Nooooo!!! I'm not supposed to be eating that!"
Oh, if only I had known then that that would be the framework for the entire rest of my life. From there, I proceeded down the dark and complicated maze that is endlessly retaining and catologuing nutritional do's and don't's: your body processes refined carbs like a spoonful of sugar. Three ounces of cheese has how many calories? Easy on the sugar, easy on the fat. Unless it's healthy fat, like olive oil and avocados? No, wait, easy on those too - they may make your heart healthy, but they still make your hips wide.
I don't mean to say I was ever a crazy, crash-dieter. I pretty much stayed away from the fads or anything sounding to weird or radical. I wasn't ever looking for a quick fix, but at the same time, I didn't look the way I wanted to look and I knew I had to make a real, serious effort for that to ever change.
So, for over a decade, I'd try out new and unpleasant restrictions - this time counting calories, this time cutting back on carbs - only to get frustrated and give up. Or I'd lose a few pounds and plateau, and then get frustrated and give up. Eventually, I lost a LOT of weight, and then got frustrated and gave up. And then gained a little of it back, and got scared, and came to accept that the constant monitoring and math, the calorie-counting and the polite, "no thank you's," would simply always be a way of life for me.
But I don't like it. It makes me truly sad to think of all the times I've demurely sipped on soda water and lemon at the bar whilst the crowd around me ordered tequila shots and cheese-fries. So as much as anything else, this project is an experiment for me. Is it possible to live a life free of incessant rules about food? Ironically, despite the fact that the project is about FOOD RULES, I've been enjoying an exhilerating amount of freedom. No constant questions about every little thing I put in my mouth: Is this too many calories? Is this a good ratio of protein to carbs? How much cheese have I eaten today? None of that.
If this works - if this is a way to escape that cycle of constant counting and second-guessing that I've known since before I was a teenager - then these rules are worth it just for that.
The question, then, is how is it working? Well, it depends on how you measure it. I feel pretty good - alert, aware, and, given the fact that I'm working roughly 50 hours a week (and that's just what I'm paid for), not too tired.
On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've gained weight. Which, in all honestly, is probably a sign that I'm "cheating," somehow. After reading this book cover to cover, I believe that if you do it right, there's no way you could gain weight, as the bulk of your diet should be nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
I suspect that relying too heavily on Rule 24, my favorite rule, at the expense of less fun rules like 54 (Eat less) and 43 (Avoid sugary and starchy food if you're concerned about your weight). Those two have already been major parts of my endless battle with rules, and, in the spirit of Rule 24, I'd like to stop thinking about them constantly.
But at the same time, I know that in certain ways my diet has changed possibly for the worse; in the absence of meat, for example, in the majority of my meals, I've been beefing up (no pun intended) on my cheese intake. I did this a lot when I was a vegetarian and fat. It makes sense to me - cheese replaces much of the protein and the flavor that's gone when meat vacates the plate. But it also adds a lot of fat, and is probably not in the spirit of Pollan's rules. Also probably not in the spirit of the rules? Eating nothing but a salad and a big potato for lunch multiple days a week because you can't find anything else in your fridge that you can eat.
This was my lunch earlier this week. No joke.
What I'm trying to say here is, I'm torn. On one hand, I want to live in the spirit of the idea that if you think about what you eat and eat well then all that calorie-counting, carb-counting, fat-counting crap is not necessary. On the other, when I can feel myself gaining weight, it triggers a reflexive response to ammend the way I'm eating, and I'm honestly not sure if that's an appropriate response or not.
It's also worth noting that I might feel like I've gained weight because I'm eating all kindsa things I'm usually not "allowed." Or, I may have gained weight because I've been so busy with this project, I've hardly had a chance to work out in three weeks. I am, however, NOT stepping on a scale until the project is over, because if I confirm that I've gained weight, I won't be able to stop myself from changing my diet, and as worried as I am about the weight issue, that's not what this project is about, and I don't want it to take focus from what I'm really trying to do.
So until then, all I can do is continue to try and live the rules as honestly as possible, and hope I've done my best to uphold the spirit of all of them, even if some of them seem, at this point at least, to be quite contradictory.
I mentioned this rule briefly yesterday, but I actually have a lot of thoughts on this particular rule.
A consummate dieter since my body-loathing pre-adolescence, I'm sort of mesmerized with the idea of a rules-free existence. As early as thirteen years old, I can remember cruising the mall, watching my friends buy junk food in the food court thinking pathetically, "Nooooo!!! I'm not supposed to be eating that!"
Oh, if only I had known then that that would be the framework for the entire rest of my life. From there, I proceeded down the dark and complicated maze that is endlessly retaining and catologuing nutritional do's and don't's: your body processes refined carbs like a spoonful of sugar. Three ounces of cheese has how many calories? Easy on the sugar, easy on the fat. Unless it's healthy fat, like olive oil and avocados? No, wait, easy on those too - they may make your heart healthy, but they still make your hips wide.
I don't mean to say I was ever a crazy, crash-dieter. I pretty much stayed away from the fads or anything sounding to weird or radical. I wasn't ever looking for a quick fix, but at the same time, I didn't look the way I wanted to look and I knew I had to make a real, serious effort for that to ever change.
So, for over a decade, I'd try out new and unpleasant restrictions - this time counting calories, this time cutting back on carbs - only to get frustrated and give up. Or I'd lose a few pounds and plateau, and then get frustrated and give up. Eventually, I lost a LOT of weight, and then got frustrated and gave up. And then gained a little of it back, and got scared, and came to accept that the constant monitoring and math, the calorie-counting and the polite, "no thank you's," would simply always be a way of life for me.
But I don't like it. It makes me truly sad to think of all the times I've demurely sipped on soda water and lemon at the bar whilst the crowd around me ordered tequila shots and cheese-fries. So as much as anything else, this project is an experiment for me. Is it possible to live a life free of incessant rules about food? Ironically, despite the fact that the project is about FOOD RULES, I've been enjoying an exhilerating amount of freedom. No constant questions about every little thing I put in my mouth: Is this too many calories? Is this a good ratio of protein to carbs? How much cheese have I eaten today? None of that.
If this works - if this is a way to escape that cycle of constant counting and second-guessing that I've known since before I was a teenager - then these rules are worth it just for that.
The question, then, is how is it working? Well, it depends on how you measure it. I feel pretty good - alert, aware, and, given the fact that I'm working roughly 50 hours a week (and that's just what I'm paid for), not too tired.
On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've gained weight. Which, in all honestly, is probably a sign that I'm "cheating," somehow. After reading this book cover to cover, I believe that if you do it right, there's no way you could gain weight, as the bulk of your diet should be nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
I suspect that relying too heavily on Rule 24, my favorite rule, at the expense of less fun rules like 54 (Eat less) and 43 (Avoid sugary and starchy food if you're concerned about your weight). Those two have already been major parts of my endless battle with rules, and, in the spirit of Rule 24, I'd like to stop thinking about them constantly.
But at the same time, I know that in certain ways my diet has changed possibly for the worse; in the absence of meat, for example, in the majority of my meals, I've been beefing up (no pun intended) on my cheese intake. I did this a lot when I was a vegetarian and fat. It makes sense to me - cheese replaces much of the protein and the flavor that's gone when meat vacates the plate. But it also adds a lot of fat, and is probably not in the spirit of Pollan's rules. Also probably not in the spirit of the rules? Eating nothing but a salad and a big potato for lunch multiple days a week because you can't find anything else in your fridge that you can eat.
What I'm trying to say here is, I'm torn. On one hand, I want to live in the spirit of the idea that if you think about what you eat and eat well then all that calorie-counting, carb-counting, fat-counting crap is not necessary. On the other, when I can feel myself gaining weight, it triggers a reflexive response to ammend the way I'm eating, and I'm honestly not sure if that's an appropriate response or not.
It's also worth noting that I might feel like I've gained weight because I'm eating all kindsa things I'm usually not "allowed." Or, I may have gained weight because I've been so busy with this project, I've hardly had a chance to work out in three weeks. I am, however, NOT stepping on a scale until the project is over, because if I confirm that I've gained weight, I won't be able to stop myself from changing my diet, and as worried as I am about the weight issue, that's not what this project is about, and I don't want it to take focus from what I'm really trying to do.
So until then, all I can do is continue to try and live the rules as honestly as possible, and hope I've done my best to uphold the spirit of all of them, even if some of them seem, at this point at least, to be quite contradictory.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Day 27
22. It’s not food if it arrived through the window of your car
23. It’s not food if it’s called by the same name in every language (think Big Mac, Cheetos or Pringles).
Does this mean I can't get coffee from the Starbucks drive-thru?
Actually, the answer to that question is moot, as I tend not to drive a car anyway. And even if I did, I restrict my fast food intake to three times a year, maximum. I try to make it only once or twice. And junk food like Pringles and Cheetos have been generally banished from my belly for many years now, so that's no big deal either.
I used to love fast food. Even when I was a vegetarian - I orded the Fillet O'Fish. Who cares? It all tastes like the same salt-and-grease-soaked cardboard anyway. Mmmmm, grease and salt.
Anyway, I don't really know what happened. One day, I just... stoppped craving fast food. I think a part is due to the documentary Super Size Me, which I never saw, but heard enough about the massive weight gain and cholesterol spike, mood swings, sexual problems and other various health issues Mr. Spurlock suffered after eating nothing but McDonald's for a month straight to get the basic idea.
Think about it this way. I told myself. McDonald's products not only fail to nourish, they actually actively harm you. It's not just not-food, it's worse: it's anti-food.
Anti-food, anti-food, I'd think to myself whenever I was tempted during days of wandering the streets of New York looking for a decent lunch to stop wasting time and money and just buy a damn Wendy's cheeseburger.
And after a while, fast food actually stopped looking like food.
If only ALL my vices could be solved so easily.
In fairness, my disinterested is also probably due it part to my post-vegetarian obsession with burgers. Y'all, I am REALLY REALLY SUPER PASSIONATE ABOUT BURGERS. Specifically bacon cheeseburgers. Cooked medium rare. Consumed with beer.
Mmmm. It's difficult to type right now, because my eyes are rolling back into my head just thinking about it.
But when you really, really love burgers, and you've had a really, really good burger, how can the slop they serve at Mickey D's possibly cut it?
A burger from Back Forty in New York - maybe the best burger I've ever had
Which, I believe, is an important point of this book. Appreciate your food. LOVE your food. Food is so quickly and cheaply available in this country that it's too easy to just eat without any real awareness of it. But when you take the time to truly love and appreciate your food, you will naturally choose good food, real food.
Which is, in fact, the next rule:
24. When you eat real food, you don't need rules
23. It’s not food if it’s called by the same name in every language (think Big Mac, Cheetos or Pringles).
Does this mean I can't get coffee from the Starbucks drive-thru?
Actually, the answer to that question is moot, as I tend not to drive a car anyway. And even if I did, I restrict my fast food intake to three times a year, maximum. I try to make it only once or twice. And junk food like Pringles and Cheetos have been generally banished from my belly for many years now, so that's no big deal either.
I used to love fast food. Even when I was a vegetarian - I orded the Fillet O'Fish. Who cares? It all tastes like the same salt-and-grease-soaked cardboard anyway. Mmmmm, grease and salt.
Anyway, I don't really know what happened. One day, I just... stoppped craving fast food. I think a part is due to the documentary Super Size Me, which I never saw, but heard enough about the massive weight gain and cholesterol spike, mood swings, sexual problems and other various health issues Mr. Spurlock suffered after eating nothing but McDonald's for a month straight to get the basic idea.
Think about it this way. I told myself. McDonald's products not only fail to nourish, they actually actively harm you. It's not just not-food, it's worse: it's anti-food.
Anti-food, anti-food, I'd think to myself whenever I was tempted during days of wandering the streets of New York looking for a decent lunch to stop wasting time and money and just buy a damn Wendy's cheeseburger.
And after a while, fast food actually stopped looking like food.
If only ALL my vices could be solved so easily.
In fairness, my disinterested is also probably due it part to my post-vegetarian obsession with burgers. Y'all, I am REALLY REALLY SUPER PASSIONATE ABOUT BURGERS. Specifically bacon cheeseburgers. Cooked medium rare. Consumed with beer.
Mmmm. It's difficult to type right now, because my eyes are rolling back into my head just thinking about it.
But when you really, really love burgers, and you've had a really, really good burger, how can the slop they serve at Mickey D's possibly cut it?
Which, I believe, is an important point of this book. Appreciate your food. LOVE your food. Food is so quickly and cheaply available in this country that it's too easy to just eat without any real awareness of it. But when you take the time to truly love and appreciate your food, you will naturally choose good food, real food.
Which is, in fact, the next rule:
24. When you eat real food, you don't need rules
Monday, March 19, 2012
Day 26
19. Eat only foods that have been cooked by humans.
20. Don’t ingest foods made in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap.
21. If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don’t.
These three tricksy rules, particularly number 21, have been the bane of my existence since this project began.
When you think about it, what isn't made in a plant? Other than your most basic produce, pretty much everything can fall under some definition of having been made in a plant. Let's just start with breakfast: the coffee I drink every morning is roasted in a plant; the bread I eat it with - even if I bake in with my very own hands, the flour was probably milled in a plant (and they probably wore surgical caps too). Breakfast cereal is automatically out (which would answer my previous question), but what if I made my own granola? Well, would I put oats in my granola? Where were they rolled? (Answer: probably a plant.)
And, I suppose, this is sort of Pollan's point. Fresh produce, whole grains. That's it. That's about all that doesn't come from a plant, and at the core of the matter, that is all we need to be eating. And if it's so difficult to strip the rest of it away, well, that's what these rules are for - to make us aware of what we eat versus what we really need.
Which is all well and good on a philosophical level, but I don't knw about you, but I need a little more than that to get along, even for six weeks. A little milkfat. A little animal protien. A little sugar. And it's worth noting that nowhere in this book does Pollan explicitly advocate vegan/macrobiotic diet - which is what an all-whole grain and produce diet would resemble - although he sure seems to suggest it implicitly in this and other rules.
The fact is, if you take this rule at its strictest word, you don't even need the other 82 rules, because you're already going to be churning your own butter, Amish-style.
Okay, so obviously, we need to loosen our interpretation of "made in a plant," to some degree.
My first impulse was to say, okay, if it's packaged in a plant, but is more or less the same thing it was when it went in, that's okay. Allowable under this rule would be things like rice and certain brands of canned beans.
But that still leaves out a lot of very necessary items - most notably flour. Because how am I supposed have bread if I can't buy it in the grocery store and can't use flour to make my own? I sure wasn't going to grind my own flour and, while I see the benefits of reducing one's intake of processed grains, I think giving up bread completely is - like veganism - extreme to the point that it loses sight of the purpose of Pollan's book. Which is simple. And not extreme. Eat food. Eat real food.
Yeah... I'm not doing that. (Image from bcliving)
Okay, so how about: foods that are basically one thing, and that one thing leaves the plant in a different form, but is still essentially just that one thing are also okay. Flour goes on this list, obviously. So does peanut butter, as long as it's just ground peanuts and maybe salt.
These were the rules that I had set and was prepared to follow until that fateful day that I opened up the refrigerator and realized I couldn't eat anything whatsoever. I'm not sure where things like cheese and yogurt fell on this spectrum, but to be safe, I had decided that I would either make them myself or buy them at the Farmer's Market.
Reminder: I have not yet made it to the Farmer's Market. So that should tell you a little of how well that idea went.
Honestly, I think I would have had to tinker with my interpretation of the rules anyway, because as they stood, they barred the consumption of soy sauce, a product Pollan specifically instructs me to eat (Rule 36) So... that can't be right.
Anyway, long story short, the rule that I eventually fell upon is sort of a bunch of the rules smooshed together and modified. If it follows ALL of the other rules, and it especially has less than 5 ingredients, and I can at least imagine a human being making it, then okay. Okay fine. It counts.
Oh, additionally, if it's reasonably possible it myself rather than buying it, then it's off the nice list and on to the naughty list. Unfortunately, "reasonably possible" is a subjective term which has frequently resulted in me thinking, I am running out the door and I NEED BREAKFAST. It is not reasonably possible for me to make yogurt! Yogurt from Trader Joe's is my breakfast! and then thinking later, making yogurt isn't THAT hard. I shouldn't have done that. And then subsequently becoming filled with feelings of guilt and failure.
Anyway, now that I see it written down, I can't really explain my math for why the sum of all these rules equals "not made in a plant," but... it still sort of makes sense on an intuitive level. I suppose I can allow myself to believe that while, say, Cinnamon Toast Crunch definitely made in a plant, things like yogurt or cheese or my corn tortillas that contain corn, lime juice and salt might be made in a facility equipped for mass-production (ie, a plant) but they're essentially being made the way human beings have made them for years and years, just on a much larger scale.
Yep. That's how I'm playing this. I don't feel good about it. Just, shhhh. Just go with it.
20. Don’t ingest foods made in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap.
21. If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don’t.
These three tricksy rules, particularly number 21, have been the bane of my existence since this project began.
When you think about it, what isn't made in a plant? Other than your most basic produce, pretty much everything can fall under some definition of having been made in a plant. Let's just start with breakfast: the coffee I drink every morning is roasted in a plant; the bread I eat it with - even if I bake in with my very own hands, the flour was probably milled in a plant (and they probably wore surgical caps too). Breakfast cereal is automatically out (which would answer my previous question), but what if I made my own granola? Well, would I put oats in my granola? Where were they rolled? (Answer: probably a plant.)
And, I suppose, this is sort of Pollan's point. Fresh produce, whole grains. That's it. That's about all that doesn't come from a plant, and at the core of the matter, that is all we need to be eating. And if it's so difficult to strip the rest of it away, well, that's what these rules are for - to make us aware of what we eat versus what we really need.
Which is all well and good on a philosophical level, but I don't knw about you, but I need a little more than that to get along, even for six weeks. A little milkfat. A little animal protien. A little sugar. And it's worth noting that nowhere in this book does Pollan explicitly advocate vegan/macrobiotic diet - which is what an all-whole grain and produce diet would resemble - although he sure seems to suggest it implicitly in this and other rules.
The fact is, if you take this rule at its strictest word, you don't even need the other 82 rules, because you're already going to be churning your own butter, Amish-style.
Okay, so obviously, we need to loosen our interpretation of "made in a plant," to some degree.
My first impulse was to say, okay, if it's packaged in a plant, but is more or less the same thing it was when it went in, that's okay. Allowable under this rule would be things like rice and certain brands of canned beans.
But that still leaves out a lot of very necessary items - most notably flour. Because how am I supposed have bread if I can't buy it in the grocery store and can't use flour to make my own? I sure wasn't going to grind my own flour and, while I see the benefits of reducing one's intake of processed grains, I think giving up bread completely is - like veganism - extreme to the point that it loses sight of the purpose of Pollan's book. Which is simple. And not extreme. Eat food. Eat real food.
Okay, so how about: foods that are basically one thing, and that one thing leaves the plant in a different form, but is still essentially just that one thing are also okay. Flour goes on this list, obviously. So does peanut butter, as long as it's just ground peanuts and maybe salt.
These were the rules that I had set and was prepared to follow until that fateful day that I opened up the refrigerator and realized I couldn't eat anything whatsoever. I'm not sure where things like cheese and yogurt fell on this spectrum, but to be safe, I had decided that I would either make them myself or buy them at the Farmer's Market.
Reminder: I have not yet made it to the Farmer's Market. So that should tell you a little of how well that idea went.
Honestly, I think I would have had to tinker with my interpretation of the rules anyway, because as they stood, they barred the consumption of soy sauce, a product Pollan specifically instructs me to eat (Rule 36) So... that can't be right.
Anyway, long story short, the rule that I eventually fell upon is sort of a bunch of the rules smooshed together and modified. If it follows ALL of the other rules, and it especially has less than 5 ingredients, and I can at least imagine a human being making it, then okay. Okay fine. It counts.
Oh, additionally, if it's reasonably possible it myself rather than buying it, then it's off the nice list and on to the naughty list. Unfortunately, "reasonably possible" is a subjective term which has frequently resulted in me thinking, I am running out the door and I NEED BREAKFAST. It is not reasonably possible for me to make yogurt! Yogurt from Trader Joe's is my breakfast! and then thinking later, making yogurt isn't THAT hard. I shouldn't have done that. And then subsequently becoming filled with feelings of guilt and failure.
Anyway, now that I see it written down, I can't really explain my math for why the sum of all these rules equals "not made in a plant," but... it still sort of makes sense on an intuitive level. I suppose I can allow myself to believe that while, say, Cinnamon Toast Crunch definitely made in a plant, things like yogurt or cheese or my corn tortillas that contain corn, lime juice and salt might be made in a facility equipped for mass-production (ie, a plant) but they're essentially being made the way human beings have made them for years and years, just on a much larger scale.
Yep. That's how I'm playing this. I don't feel good about it. Just, shhhh. Just go with it.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Day 21
So after I made my delicious loaf of bread, I tried to make my first sandwich in almost three weeks, and realized almost immediately that the mayonnaise in the fridge was off-limits. Which makes for, in my book at least, a pretty weak sandwich. And I wasn't going to tolerate that. I FINALLY made a loaf of bread. I was FINALLY going to get to make a sandwich. It was GOING to be a delicious sandwich. It was GOING to have mayo.
I found a recipe from my favorite Food Network personality and, because I trust Alton with my whole heart and soul, I dove right in.
And let me tell you, there was a lot of trust involved with this recipe. In further demonstration of my food ignorance, until last night I had never actually seen mayonnaise made before. And, while I knew that it was basically eggs and oil and vinegar, I never really thought about it until I saw the recipe. At which point I thought, Really? I'm just going to mix up some oil with an egg yolk and it's going to turn into mayonnaise and not just a big, greasy, liquidy mess? I was highly skeptical.
As per Alton's instructions, I whisked one egg yolk with 1/2 teaspoon fine salt, 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard, and 2 pinches sugar.
So far so good...
After that, you mix 2 teaspoons fresh squeezed lemon juice and 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar together in a separate measuring cup and then pour about half of it into the egg yolk mixture and whisk HARD until you get an emulsion.
Or, so I'm told. You're supposed to whisk until the mixture gets a little bit lighter and thicker, although I whisked for a good long time and didn't see much of a change. Eventually, I just thought, Well, hope that's good enough... and prayed I didn't totally screw it up.
And I didn't! To my complete surprise, as I dropped a few drops of oil into the mixture and continued to whisk hard, a mayonnaise-like substance actually began to form.
Whaaaat!?
So after the mixture starts looking like mayo, you can ease up a little and start pouring the oil in a thin, steady stream. Which is kind of a two-person job. If you don't have a second person, you can make it in the food processor, or, if you're like me and you don't have a second person and you don't realize until you're pretty much done that there was a much easier way to do this, I found that alternately adding the oil in small quantities and whisking worked just fine.
This was also the only place I differed with Alton. He says to use safflower or corn oil, but since I'm not sure if you can get either of those oils through stone-grinding (Rule 42) and I was too lazy to check, I went with olive oil. Olive oil will apparently make a darker mayonnaise with a distinct olive oil flavor, which, to me, is a total plus.
Anyway from there it's pretty easy - just slowly add half the oil, then the other half of the vinegar and lemon juice, then the other half of the oil (still slowly) and whisk until your arm falls off! Mayonnaise!
From start to finish, the whole project probably took about 20 minutes and, unlike ketchup, was not a pain in the ass at all. The recipe made enough mayo to last me longer than it will probably keep, which, according to Alton, is a week. Not gonna lie, I'll probably try and eat it for two. If I don't die, I'll report back with my findings.
The end result, by the way was fresh and delicious. I don't think I even knew what real mayo is supposed to taste like. I can tell already that it's going to blend with other ingredients like lemon and dill or roasted garlic way better than bottled mayo, which makes me nerdily excited. Aioli time!
I found a recipe from my favorite Food Network personality and, because I trust Alton with my whole heart and soul, I dove right in.
And let me tell you, there was a lot of trust involved with this recipe. In further demonstration of my food ignorance, until last night I had never actually seen mayonnaise made before. And, while I knew that it was basically eggs and oil and vinegar, I never really thought about it until I saw the recipe. At which point I thought, Really? I'm just going to mix up some oil with an egg yolk and it's going to turn into mayonnaise and not just a big, greasy, liquidy mess? I was highly skeptical.
As per Alton's instructions, I whisked one egg yolk with 1/2 teaspoon fine salt, 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard, and 2 pinches sugar.
After that, you mix 2 teaspoons fresh squeezed lemon juice and 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar together in a separate measuring cup and then pour about half of it into the egg yolk mixture and whisk HARD until you get an emulsion.
Or, so I'm told. You're supposed to whisk until the mixture gets a little bit lighter and thicker, although I whisked for a good long time and didn't see much of a change. Eventually, I just thought, Well, hope that's good enough... and prayed I didn't totally screw it up.
And I didn't! To my complete surprise, as I dropped a few drops of oil into the mixture and continued to whisk hard, a mayonnaise-like substance actually began to form.
So after the mixture starts looking like mayo, you can ease up a little and start pouring the oil in a thin, steady stream. Which is kind of a two-person job. If you don't have a second person, you can make it in the food processor, or, if you're like me and you don't have a second person and you don't realize until you're pretty much done that there was a much easier way to do this, I found that alternately adding the oil in small quantities and whisking worked just fine.
This was also the only place I differed with Alton. He says to use safflower or corn oil, but since I'm not sure if you can get either of those oils through stone-grinding (Rule 42) and I was too lazy to check, I went with olive oil. Olive oil will apparently make a darker mayonnaise with a distinct olive oil flavor, which, to me, is a total plus.
Anyway from there it's pretty easy - just slowly add half the oil, then the other half of the vinegar and lemon juice, then the other half of the oil (still slowly) and whisk until your arm falls off! Mayonnaise!
From start to finish, the whole project probably took about 20 minutes and, unlike ketchup, was not a pain in the ass at all. The recipe made enough mayo to last me longer than it will probably keep, which, according to Alton, is a week. Not gonna lie, I'll probably try and eat it for two. If I don't die, I'll report back with my findings.
The end result, by the way was fresh and delicious. I don't think I even knew what real mayo is supposed to taste like. I can tell already that it's going to blend with other ingredients like lemon and dill or roasted garlic way better than bottled mayo, which makes me nerdily excited. Aioli time!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Day 20
16. Go food shopping every week.
17. Buy your snacks at the farmers market.
18. Eat close to the earth.
While I can't shake the image of eating my dinner from a seat on the floor, Japanese-style, that's not actually what Michael Pollan means when he says Eat close to the earth. What he means is to try and eat your food as close as possible to the moment when the earth offers it up. Shorten the journey it takes to your plate; eliminate any and every step on that journey that you can.
The reasons for this rule are abundant, ranging from the practical (the shorter the journey, the less fossil fuels burned transporting it to you, and the less opportunities for unknown entities to fill your food with additives) to the more abstract (if your food comes from nearby, you're likely to be more knowledgable about it and thus make better choices) to the philosophical (the more connected you are to your food, the more connected you will be to yourself, your body, and the world around you.)
The ideal, of course, is to pick the apple straight off the tree, though most of us can't just go foraging for our food. Still, there are things we can do: we can buy as local as possible. We can shop at the farmer's market instead of the supermarket. We can make food for ourselves where we would have let others make it in the past.
For me, what this is has come down to is if there is a reasonably feasible way to shorten the distance to my plate, I have to take it. If there is a local option, I have to buy it and if there's a way to live without it when there's not a local option, I have to live without it.
And I can't buy bread. I know this sounds pretty arbitrary - bread, especially if its purchased from a bakery or farmer's market, is a pretty innocuous entity; not really a Food Rules offender in any other way - but stay with me. And here's the thing: baking bread is SO SIMPLE. I might not be able to make my own cheese, or raise my own chickens, but gosh darn it, I can make bread. It's not that hard. And it's even less hard if you own a bread maker, like my parents do.
I'll admit it, I love bread makers. I'm not ashamed. Back in New York, in my shoebox-sized apartment, I dreamed of the day when I would have enough space to store my own bread maker. That, and a coffee maker that ran on a timer. Then I'd set both of them to go off in the early morning, and I'd wake up to warm, homemade bread and freshly brewed coffee all the time. It would be paradise; I'd live like royalty while my robot servants did my bidding.
So yeah, I love bread makers. I know all the hardcore bakers and chefs out there will say that using a bread maker is second rate; I even know a few people who would go so far as to say that when you use the machine instead of making the bread yourself, you are depriving yourself of a sacred task that has been man's birthright almost since the day we discovered fire. I get that. I mean, this project is about getting closer to the process that brings you your food, and one can make an argument that a bread maker is a step in the opposite direction.
But from my perspective, there's something so visceral about seeing the raw ingredients, and combining them yourself, even if "combining" them is just dumping them into a box and pressing start. And - seriously - that is all you have to do. To me, for the purposes of this experiment, that makes it almost unconscionable to go out and buy a loaf of bread - no matter how good and fresh it is.
And that's also why I am SO PROUD OF MYSELF for finally, FINALLY getting around to making a loaf of bread. I've been living essentially bread-free with the occasional exceptions of sandwiches from Flying Star and a few pieces here and there from Farm & Table. It's made for some very sad mornings full of eggs with no toast and some equally frustrating sandwich-less lunches.
This was the first time my parents' machine had been used for anything except kneading dough (what a waste!), and when the finished product came out looking more like a bread cube than a bread loaf I was skeptical.
But it was delicious. Oh, it was so delicious! Soft! And moist! And about as fluffy as whole wheat bread can be! Even though MP specifically instructs me to limit my snacks to unprocessed plant foods (Rule 72), I think the obvious exception is "unless there's still-warm fresh-baked bread." I had a slice of it piping hot, right out of the oven -er- machine, with butter and local honey.
I swear to you, I have never loved any bread more than I loved that slice.
17. Buy your snacks at the farmers market.
18. Eat close to the earth.
While I can't shake the image of eating my dinner from a seat on the floor, Japanese-style, that's not actually what Michael Pollan means when he says Eat close to the earth. What he means is to try and eat your food as close as possible to the moment when the earth offers it up. Shorten the journey it takes to your plate; eliminate any and every step on that journey that you can.
The reasons for this rule are abundant, ranging from the practical (the shorter the journey, the less fossil fuels burned transporting it to you, and the less opportunities for unknown entities to fill your food with additives) to the more abstract (if your food comes from nearby, you're likely to be more knowledgable about it and thus make better choices) to the philosophical (the more connected you are to your food, the more connected you will be to yourself, your body, and the world around you.)
The ideal, of course, is to pick the apple straight off the tree, though most of us can't just go foraging for our food. Still, there are things we can do: we can buy as local as possible. We can shop at the farmer's market instead of the supermarket. We can make food for ourselves where we would have let others make it in the past.
For me, what this is has come down to is if there is a reasonably feasible way to shorten the distance to my plate, I have to take it. If there is a local option, I have to buy it and if there's a way to live without it when there's not a local option, I have to live without it.
And I can't buy bread. I know this sounds pretty arbitrary - bread, especially if its purchased from a bakery or farmer's market, is a pretty innocuous entity; not really a Food Rules offender in any other way - but stay with me. And here's the thing: baking bread is SO SIMPLE. I might not be able to make my own cheese, or raise my own chickens, but gosh darn it, I can make bread. It's not that hard. And it's even less hard if you own a bread maker, like my parents do.
I'll admit it, I love bread makers. I'm not ashamed. Back in New York, in my shoebox-sized apartment, I dreamed of the day when I would have enough space to store my own bread maker. That, and a coffee maker that ran on a timer. Then I'd set both of them to go off in the early morning, and I'd wake up to warm, homemade bread and freshly brewed coffee all the time. It would be paradise; I'd live like royalty while my robot servants did my bidding.
So yeah, I love bread makers. I know all the hardcore bakers and chefs out there will say that using a bread maker is second rate; I even know a few people who would go so far as to say that when you use the machine instead of making the bread yourself, you are depriving yourself of a sacred task that has been man's birthright almost since the day we discovered fire. I get that. I mean, this project is about getting closer to the process that brings you your food, and one can make an argument that a bread maker is a step in the opposite direction.
But from my perspective, there's something so visceral about seeing the raw ingredients, and combining them yourself, even if "combining" them is just dumping them into a box and pressing start. And - seriously - that is all you have to do. To me, for the purposes of this experiment, that makes it almost unconscionable to go out and buy a loaf of bread - no matter how good and fresh it is.
And that's also why I am SO PROUD OF MYSELF for finally, FINALLY getting around to making a loaf of bread. I've been living essentially bread-free with the occasional exceptions of sandwiches from Flying Star and a few pieces here and there from Farm & Table. It's made for some very sad mornings full of eggs with no toast and some equally frustrating sandwich-less lunches.
This was the first time my parents' machine had been used for anything except kneading dough (what a waste!), and when the finished product came out looking more like a bread cube than a bread loaf I was skeptical.
But it was delicious. Oh, it was so delicious! Soft! And moist! And about as fluffy as whole wheat bread can be! Even though MP specifically instructs me to limit my snacks to unprocessed plant foods (Rule 72), I think the obvious exception is "unless there's still-warm fresh-baked bread." I had a slice of it piping hot, right out of the oven -er- machine, with butter and local honey.
I swear to you, I have never loved any bread more than I loved that slice.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Day 19
14. Eat only foods that will eventually rot.
15. Eat foods made from ingredients that you can picture in their raw state or growing in nature.
Rule 14 has been giving me trouble literally since day one.
On the first day of the project, when I awoke and realized woefully that there was absolutely nothing in the house that I could eat, I was hungry, grouchy, and - as usual - running late. I had a to make a snap decision. I reached for the healthiest, most natural-sounding cereal I could find - a box of Ezekiel 4:9 Golden Flax Cereal.
Ezekiel, for those of you who don't have some kind of wheat or gluten intolerance and/or have not gone completely off the health food deep end, is a brand of products inspired by the bible verse Ezekiel 4:9: "Take also unto thee wheat and barley and beans and lentils and millet and spelt and put them in one vessel and make bread of it." Which is exactly what Ezekiel has done.
If that sounds like a whole lot of things to stuff into one loaf of bread and sounds like it would be kind of gross... you're pretty much right. The cereal isn't bad, though, if you eat it with enough yogurt and fruit and honey. It's kind of like a really bland, really crunchy version of Grape Nuts. (And yes, I'm aware of how bland and crunchy Grape Nuts are in and of themselves - just think about that).
Anyway, the ingredients for Ezekiel 4:9 breakfast cereal are: sprouted wheat, filtered water, malted barley, flax seed, sprouted barely, sprouted millet, sprouted lentils, sprouted soybeans, sprouted spelt, sea salt.
In the pro's column, I understand every ingredient on this list, and they're all nourishing and whole. I can imagine them all in their raw state growing in nature. I've probably even actually kept every single one in my pantry at some point or another.
Admittedly, yes, there are more than five ingredients, but, as Pollan himself points out, there are lots of recipes that require more than five ingredients, so this rule by its very nature requires a certain degree of flexibility and common sense. And, if you don't count the water and salt, there's really only seven ingredients, so I'm going ahead and filing that one in the neutral column.
Harder to explain away, though is the fact that this cereal will not rot. It won't. This box's "best by" date is nearly a year from now, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't really hurt to eat it past then either.
Why is this important? Because, as Pollan explains, food going bad is usually a process of bacteria or fungi feeding on the nutrients in the food just like us. A longer shelf-life means less nutrients. Real food with real nutrients should generally go bad. Meat goes rancid, bread gets moldy, fruits and vegetables rot. Cereal... sits in the cupboard for years and years.
On the other hand, there are exceptions. Pollan points out honey, which has an almost eternal shelf-life. Is this an exeception? Maybe it is. The ingredients are undeniably natural and healthful. But something tells me it's not an exception. I can't explain it, but it feels processed. Ezekiel 4:9 cereal, for all its touted benefits (and yes - it touts them loudly, thus violating Rule 8 and planting another seed of doubt in my mind) is not found in nature, does not simply have a naturally long shelf-life.
In the end, I decided ya know what? It doesn't rot. It comes in a box, it was not cooked by humans (Rule 19) nor can I even imagine it being cooked by humans. So the answer is no.
Seriously - how would a human being make those little pellets in a kitchen?
But I don't know. I don't know. So I bring up the Ezekiel question because it's an example of where even these rules, designed to be so simple, so practical - Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much. - fail me.
Yes, it makes health claims, but they kind of seem like legitimate health claims. (An excerpt from the box: "We discovered that when these [ingredients] are sprouted and combined... a complete protein is created that is... 84.3% as efficient as the highest recognized source of protein.")
And yes, it has more than five ingredients, but they're all wholesome, nutritious ingredients. No strange preservatives, additives or flavorings.
And yes, it will not rot. But... maybe that's okay? Sometimes it is.
This is the point, I think, where common sense should prevail over rule-following pendantry. But where is common sense? I can't find it. To me, the Ezekiel Issue brings to harsh light just how complicated the question of food has become in our society. Our understanding of what we put in our bodies is so obscured, we can't even trust our own common sense and good judgement. The simple question of what to eat for breakfast becomes a trip down the rabbit hole, and I have no answers to give.
15. Eat foods made from ingredients that you can picture in their raw state or growing in nature.
Rule 14 has been giving me trouble literally since day one.
On the first day of the project, when I awoke and realized woefully that there was absolutely nothing in the house that I could eat, I was hungry, grouchy, and - as usual - running late. I had a to make a snap decision. I reached for the healthiest, most natural-sounding cereal I could find - a box of Ezekiel 4:9 Golden Flax Cereal.
Ezekiel, for those of you who don't have some kind of wheat or gluten intolerance and/or have not gone completely off the health food deep end, is a brand of products inspired by the bible verse Ezekiel 4:9: "Take also unto thee wheat and barley and beans and lentils and millet and spelt and put them in one vessel and make bread of it." Which is exactly what Ezekiel has done.
If that sounds like a whole lot of things to stuff into one loaf of bread and sounds like it would be kind of gross... you're pretty much right. The cereal isn't bad, though, if you eat it with enough yogurt and fruit and honey. It's kind of like a really bland, really crunchy version of Grape Nuts. (And yes, I'm aware of how bland and crunchy Grape Nuts are in and of themselves - just think about that).
Anyway, the ingredients for Ezekiel 4:9 breakfast cereal are: sprouted wheat, filtered water, malted barley, flax seed, sprouted barely, sprouted millet, sprouted lentils, sprouted soybeans, sprouted spelt, sea salt.
In the pro's column, I understand every ingredient on this list, and they're all nourishing and whole. I can imagine them all in their raw state growing in nature. I've probably even actually kept every single one in my pantry at some point or another.
Admittedly, yes, there are more than five ingredients, but, as Pollan himself points out, there are lots of recipes that require more than five ingredients, so this rule by its very nature requires a certain degree of flexibility and common sense. And, if you don't count the water and salt, there's really only seven ingredients, so I'm going ahead and filing that one in the neutral column.
Harder to explain away, though is the fact that this cereal will not rot. It won't. This box's "best by" date is nearly a year from now, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't really hurt to eat it past then either.
Why is this important? Because, as Pollan explains, food going bad is usually a process of bacteria or fungi feeding on the nutrients in the food just like us. A longer shelf-life means less nutrients. Real food with real nutrients should generally go bad. Meat goes rancid, bread gets moldy, fruits and vegetables rot. Cereal... sits in the cupboard for years and years.
On the other hand, there are exceptions. Pollan points out honey, which has an almost eternal shelf-life. Is this an exeception? Maybe it is. The ingredients are undeniably natural and healthful. But something tells me it's not an exception. I can't explain it, but it feels processed. Ezekiel 4:9 cereal, for all its touted benefits (and yes - it touts them loudly, thus violating Rule 8 and planting another seed of doubt in my mind) is not found in nature, does not simply have a naturally long shelf-life.
In the end, I decided ya know what? It doesn't rot. It comes in a box, it was not cooked by humans (Rule 19) nor can I even imagine it being cooked by humans. So the answer is no.
But I don't know. I don't know. So I bring up the Ezekiel question because it's an example of where even these rules, designed to be so simple, so practical - Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much. - fail me.
Yes, it makes health claims, but they kind of seem like legitimate health claims. (An excerpt from the box: "We discovered that when these [ingredients] are sprouted and combined... a complete protein is created that is... 84.3% as efficient as the highest recognized source of protein.")
And yes, it has more than five ingredients, but they're all wholesome, nutritious ingredients. No strange preservatives, additives or flavorings.
And yes, it will not rot. But... maybe that's okay? Sometimes it is.
This is the point, I think, where common sense should prevail over rule-following pendantry. But where is common sense? I can't find it. To me, the Ezekiel Issue brings to harsh light just how complicated the question of food has become in our society. Our understanding of what we put in our bodies is so obscured, we can't even trust our own common sense and good judgement. The simple question of what to eat for breakfast becomes a trip down the rabbit hole, and I have no answers to give.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Day 15
12. Get out of the supermarket whenever you can.
13. Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle.
First, let me say that I was shocked - shocked to discover how accurate Pollan's advice to stay out of the middle of supermarkets is. I figured this would be more of a guideline: generally won't find anything in the middle of the supermarket you're going to want to eat, but, you know, there's some stuff.
Nope, there's really not. On my first trip to the grocery store after beginning this project, I was amazed to find myself flying through the middle aisles - nope, nothing I can eat on this aisle; nothing I can't eat on this one either... moving on... It turned out that the only places I lingered at all were at the produce, meat and dairy sections, and, at the local co-op, the section of fruit, nuts and grains sold in bulk - all of which were on the peripheries.
Amazing.
And yes, that means that I've been to the supermarket. Way more than I've been to any farmers' markets, I'm ashamed to say.
Getting out of the supermarket has proven surprisingly difficult, although in hindsight it probably shouldn't have, given how much trouble I tend to have getting into the supermarket in the first place.
In New York, I used to do my grocery shopping at midnight. Really. There was a 24-hour grocery store across the street from the restaurant where I got off work I'd stop in for milk or coffee for the next morning, and anything else I happened to be running low on. This system does not work here in New Mexico, not the least of reasons being grocery stores in the normal world are apparently not open at midnight.
I haven't really gotten a new system down, so I've become one of those people who peer into the fridge and think, Let's see, I've got an old tortilla and a half an onion... can I make a meal out of this?
Mmm, fresh local chiles. Why can't I get to this? So close, yet so far away...
Compounding the matter is the fact that the Albuquerque Growers' Market does not occur during the winter months. I've found a few farmers' market alternatives, none which are particularly convenient. There are a few Albuquerque area winter markets:
The Los Ranchos Market:
City Hall, 6718 Rio Grande Blvd. NW
10-12 on the second Saturday of every month
The Corrales Growers' Market:
500 Jones Rd. & Corrales Rd.
11-1 on the first Sunday of every month
But because of the hours and location, the most convenient winter farmers' market is Santa Fe Farmers' Market which happens every single Saturday and Sunday and appears to have a pretty wide selection including - OMG OMG - locally farmed chicken which I have thus far been able to find nowhere in Albuquerque (thought I still have a few more places to try).
What's more, market is at the Santa Fe Railyards, literally right off the train from Albuquerque.
Still, life takes over, weekends - which are meant to be kept free exactly for things like this - inevitably fill up, and here I am, over two weeks into the project and have not yet made it up to Santa Fe for the market. Nor will I next weekend, either.
Here is a win, though: I've signed up for Skarsgard Farms' CSA. I've been visiting their website like a deranged stalker since moving to Albuquerque, debating whether or not to sign up; whether the produce will be too much for me to eat on my own.
But you know what? FORGET IT. It's local(ish), it's organic, and it's delivered to my door. If a few apples end up rotting, so be it.
(And speaking of CSAs, my favorite little restaurant, Farm & Table, will be starting their own CSA from their farm come next growing season. One of the many reasons I love working there.)
I have to admit, it saddens me a little that the only New Mexico farm that is part of the Skarsgard Farms CSA is Skarsgard Farms itself. The other participants are from California, Colarado, and even a farm in Mexico. I mean, it's still good: they're all small, organic farms and collectives and, really, they're not that far away, but still. They're not New Mexico; they're pretty far away.
This is a moment where I have to step back and really take to heart that old adage: Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. I do that a lot. I'm an all or nothing girl. I think "Aggh! This apple is from an organic farm in California! Why can't I get an apple grown any closer than that? Forget it, it's all a waste of time. I'll just buy my apples from wherever."
And that's not fair. An apple grown on an organic farm two states away is better than one pumped full of pesticides and flown in all the way from South America.
It's baby steps.
13. Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle.
First, let me say that I was shocked - shocked to discover how accurate Pollan's advice to stay out of the middle of supermarkets is. I figured this would be more of a guideline: generally won't find anything in the middle of the supermarket you're going to want to eat, but, you know, there's some stuff.
Nope, there's really not. On my first trip to the grocery store after beginning this project, I was amazed to find myself flying through the middle aisles - nope, nothing I can eat on this aisle; nothing I can't eat on this one either... moving on... It turned out that the only places I lingered at all were at the produce, meat and dairy sections, and, at the local co-op, the section of fruit, nuts and grains sold in bulk - all of which were on the peripheries.
Amazing.
And yes, that means that I've been to the supermarket. Way more than I've been to any farmers' markets, I'm ashamed to say.
Getting out of the supermarket has proven surprisingly difficult, although in hindsight it probably shouldn't have, given how much trouble I tend to have getting into the supermarket in the first place.
In New York, I used to do my grocery shopping at midnight. Really. There was a 24-hour grocery store across the street from the restaurant where I got off work I'd stop in for milk or coffee for the next morning, and anything else I happened to be running low on. This system does not work here in New Mexico, not the least of reasons being grocery stores in the normal world are apparently not open at midnight.
I haven't really gotten a new system down, so I've become one of those people who peer into the fridge and think, Let's see, I've got an old tortilla and a half an onion... can I make a meal out of this?
Compounding the matter is the fact that the Albuquerque Growers' Market does not occur during the winter months. I've found a few farmers' market alternatives, none which are particularly convenient. There are a few Albuquerque area winter markets:
The Los Ranchos Market:
City Hall, 6718 Rio Grande Blvd. NW
10-12 on the second Saturday of every month
The Corrales Growers' Market:
500 Jones Rd. & Corrales Rd.
11-1 on the first Sunday of every month
But because of the hours and location, the most convenient winter farmers' market is Santa Fe Farmers' Market which happens every single Saturday and Sunday and appears to have a pretty wide selection including - OMG OMG - locally farmed chicken which I have thus far been able to find nowhere in Albuquerque (thought I still have a few more places to try).
What's more, market is at the Santa Fe Railyards, literally right off the train from Albuquerque.
Still, life takes over, weekends - which are meant to be kept free exactly for things like this - inevitably fill up, and here I am, over two weeks into the project and have not yet made it up to Santa Fe for the market. Nor will I next weekend, either.
Here is a win, though: I've signed up for Skarsgard Farms' CSA. I've been visiting their website like a deranged stalker since moving to Albuquerque, debating whether or not to sign up; whether the produce will be too much for me to eat on my own.
But you know what? FORGET IT. It's local(ish), it's organic, and it's delivered to my door. If a few apples end up rotting, so be it.
(And speaking of CSAs, my favorite little restaurant, Farm & Table, will be starting their own CSA from their farm come next growing season. One of the many reasons I love working there.)
I have to admit, it saddens me a little that the only New Mexico farm that is part of the Skarsgard Farms CSA is Skarsgard Farms itself. The other participants are from California, Colarado, and even a farm in Mexico. I mean, it's still good: they're all small, organic farms and collectives and, really, they're not that far away, but still. They're not New Mexico; they're pretty far away.
This is a moment where I have to step back and really take to heart that old adage: Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. I do that a lot. I'm an all or nothing girl. I think "Aggh! This apple is from an organic farm in California! Why can't I get an apple grown any closer than that? Forget it, it's all a waste of time. I'll just buy my apples from wherever."
And that's not fair. An apple grown on an organic farm two states away is better than one pumped full of pesticides and flown in all the way from South America.
It's baby steps.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Day 14
10. Avoid foods that are pretending to be something they are not.
11. Avoid foods you see advertised on television.
Rule 11 has proved to be a pretty easy rule to follow. I don't think I eat anything I see advertised on television and, come to think of it, I don't really watch television (Hulu and Netflix are my poison). Still, I did a quick scan of the refrigerator just to be on the safe side. The only offenders, as far as I can remember of commercials, were cream cheese and milk.
But milk doesn't count... right? I realize this is the second post in a row where I've invoked an exception for milk but they both seem valid. Am I in total denial here? I know I love my dairy, but I don't think I'm just making excuses. Michael Pollan doesn't want me to be a vegan... does he?
Anyway, other than that, Rule 11 hasn't proved much of a sticking point. Rule 10, on the other hand, is a sad, sad rule. A good rule. A necessary rule. But a sad rule. Because with it, I must say goodbye to one of my favorite foods, one that has been my delicious companion since age thirteen. My best and most beloved discovery in my days as a vegetarian:
Morningstar Farms' veggie buffalo wings. These things are so delicious, I kept eating them long after I renounced vegetarianism; I still eat them today. And, lamentably, consider them a "healthy" alternative to regular buffalo wings. I never even considered how highly processed food has got to be to get vegetables to look, feel, and taste like meat.
Still, even without taking that into consideration, I think deep down, I knew I was fooling myself.
I should have stopped eating them up back in high school when I found out they were made with GMOs. (At least they're honest about it: says so right in their FAQs.) But I just didn't want to give them up. Like so many other times, I figured the list of ingredients I disapproved of was beyond my control. Instead, my mom and I wrote a letter to the company registering our discontent and requesting that they discontinue their use of genetically modified products and I closed the book on that.
It's funny, I used to eat these with delight in high school (and even college), taking pleasure in my moral high-ground because they were made without the needless deaths of animals. Now, when I consider the damage the mega-industrialization of food does to the people, animals and plants it touches, I think the less cruel choice is to just eat the damn chicken meat. Provided, of course, that the chickens come from small, humane farms and not huge, industrial factories.
Image found at www.veganoutreach.org
Doesn't that look yummy? Happy hump day, everybody!
11. Avoid foods you see advertised on television.
Rule 11 has proved to be a pretty easy rule to follow. I don't think I eat anything I see advertised on television and, come to think of it, I don't really watch television (Hulu and Netflix are my poison). Still, I did a quick scan of the refrigerator just to be on the safe side. The only offenders, as far as I can remember of commercials, were cream cheese and milk.
But milk doesn't count... right? I realize this is the second post in a row where I've invoked an exception for milk but they both seem valid. Am I in total denial here? I know I love my dairy, but I don't think I'm just making excuses. Michael Pollan doesn't want me to be a vegan... does he?
Anyway, other than that, Rule 11 hasn't proved much of a sticking point. Rule 10, on the other hand, is a sad, sad rule. A good rule. A necessary rule. But a sad rule. Because with it, I must say goodbye to one of my favorite foods, one that has been my delicious companion since age thirteen. My best and most beloved discovery in my days as a vegetarian:
Morningstar Farms' veggie buffalo wings. These things are so delicious, I kept eating them long after I renounced vegetarianism; I still eat them today. And, lamentably, consider them a "healthy" alternative to regular buffalo wings. I never even considered how highly processed food has got to be to get vegetables to look, feel, and taste like meat.
Still, even without taking that into consideration, I think deep down, I knew I was fooling myself.
I should have stopped eating them up back in high school when I found out they were made with GMOs. (At least they're honest about it: says so right in their FAQs.) But I just didn't want to give them up. Like so many other times, I figured the list of ingredients I disapproved of was beyond my control. Instead, my mom and I wrote a letter to the company registering our discontent and requesting that they discontinue their use of genetically modified products and I closed the book on that.
It's funny, I used to eat these with delight in high school (and even college), taking pleasure in my moral high-ground because they were made without the needless deaths of animals. Now, when I consider the damage the mega-industrialization of food does to the people, animals and plants it touches, I think the less cruel choice is to just eat the damn chicken meat. Provided, of course, that the chickens come from small, humane farms and not huge, industrial factories.
Doesn't that look yummy? Happy hump day, everybody!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Day 13
8. Avoid food products that make health claims.
9. Avoid food products with the wordoid “lite” or the terms “low fat” or “nonfat” in their names.
I get these rules, for the most part. As Pollan points out, "only the big manufacturers have the wherewithal to secure FDA-approved health claims for their products, and then trumpet them to the world. Generally it's the products of modern food science that makes the boldest claims." Sure. That checks out to me.
Which is not to say that I haven't been tempted. Many a time I've walked down the cereal aisle, picked up a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and thought, "Look! It says 'made from whole grain' right on the box. It's totally healthy! JUST BUY IT!"
At moments like these I have to take a step back and think to myself, "Leigh. Look at it. It's Cinnamon. Toast. Crunch. That's all you need to know. Put it back on the shelf and step away from the processed sugar-bomb."
("But... but... 'heart-healthy'...")
These sugary, addictive spoonfuls are totally the Devil's food.
I'm also mostly okay with the no no-fat rule, because, as Pollan points out, "Removing fat from foods doesn't necessarily make them non-fattening." I've been hip to the whole swapping-sugar-for-fat trick for longer than I've been able to shop for myself.
"Mommy, mommy," said little Leigh, "It says low-fat - it's good for you! Why can't we buy it?"
"Because, sweetie, that just means it has more sugar."
So I'm down with the low-fat/no-fat moratorium, with the obvious exception of, you know, dairy products like milk, cheese, and yogurt. I mean, that just goes without saying - you're not going to make me drink whole-fat milk and eat whole-fat yogurt, are you Michael Pollan? Because that would be awful. And what's the harm of buying cheese made with 2% milk? That just seems healthy to me.
Except, actually, Pollan calls out yogurt specifically. "Check out the label on low- and nonfat yogurts," he says. "They typically contain more sugar per ounce than soda."
This is utterly devastating news, as I really, really love Stonyfield Farms' nonfat vanilla yogurt.
I was also kind of surprised to read Pollan's indictment of yogurt. Why didn't I notice that? I thought to myself. I'm usually so good about not getting conned by high-sugar "health foods." So I checked out the Stonyfield Farms labels again: their nonfat French Vanilla yogurt indeed has 25 grams of sugar, which, admittedly, is a lot a lot of sugar. But it is still less than eight ounces of soda. (side note: holy sh*t! An eight oz. Coke has 27 grams of sugar!?!? I think I got diabetes just from reading that label). And it is also less than the 29.9 grams the full-fat version of Stonyfield's French Vanilla contains, along with a whopping 230 calories, compared to the 140 calories in the nonfat version.
What the hell, MP? Am I missing something? It seems clear to me that the nonfat version is the better choice.
But you know what? Whatever. These are your rules, it's your book. And my plan was to follow your rules, not make up my own rules about which ones of yours make sense. And I know that may seem blisteringly pedantic, and in real-life I probably would have said to myself, "Psh, forget that," but for the purposes of this project, we're gonna go with it.
Besides, 25 grams of sugar is still a lot of sugar, no matter what you're comparing it with.
But here is where I will make an exception: when it comes to plain yogurt, skim milk, and other dairy products where sugar is obviously not being added, I'm still going to pick the low- or nonfat option. I just can't think of a reason not to. And it's better this way: now I'm compelled to buy nonfat plain yogurt and sweeten it myself with honey, thus following another rule (Number 37 - Sweeten and salt your food yourself) in the process. A win-win.
9. Avoid food products with the wordoid “lite” or the terms “low fat” or “nonfat” in their names.
I get these rules, for the most part. As Pollan points out, "only the big manufacturers have the wherewithal to secure FDA-approved health claims for their products, and then trumpet them to the world. Generally it's the products of modern food science that makes the boldest claims." Sure. That checks out to me.
Which is not to say that I haven't been tempted. Many a time I've walked down the cereal aisle, picked up a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and thought, "Look! It says 'made from whole grain' right on the box. It's totally healthy! JUST BUY IT!"
At moments like these I have to take a step back and think to myself, "Leigh. Look at it. It's Cinnamon. Toast. Crunch. That's all you need to know. Put it back on the shelf and step away from the processed sugar-bomb."
("But... but... 'heart-healthy'...")
I'm also mostly okay with the no no-fat rule, because, as Pollan points out, "Removing fat from foods doesn't necessarily make them non-fattening." I've been hip to the whole swapping-sugar-for-fat trick for longer than I've been able to shop for myself.
"Mommy, mommy," said little Leigh, "It says low-fat - it's good for you! Why can't we buy it?"
"Because, sweetie, that just means it has more sugar."
So I'm down with the low-fat/no-fat moratorium, with the obvious exception of, you know, dairy products like milk, cheese, and yogurt. I mean, that just goes without saying - you're not going to make me drink whole-fat milk and eat whole-fat yogurt, are you Michael Pollan? Because that would be awful. And what's the harm of buying cheese made with 2% milk? That just seems healthy to me.
Except, actually, Pollan calls out yogurt specifically. "Check out the label on low- and nonfat yogurts," he says. "They typically contain more sugar per ounce than soda."
This is utterly devastating news, as I really, really love Stonyfield Farms' nonfat vanilla yogurt.
I was also kind of surprised to read Pollan's indictment of yogurt. Why didn't I notice that? I thought to myself. I'm usually so good about not getting conned by high-sugar "health foods." So I checked out the Stonyfield Farms labels again: their nonfat French Vanilla yogurt indeed has 25 grams of sugar, which, admittedly, is a lot a lot of sugar. But it is still less than eight ounces of soda. (side note: holy sh*t! An eight oz. Coke has 27 grams of sugar!?!? I think I got diabetes just from reading that label). And it is also less than the 29.9 grams the full-fat version of Stonyfield's French Vanilla contains, along with a whopping 230 calories, compared to the 140 calories in the nonfat version.
What the hell, MP? Am I missing something? It seems clear to me that the nonfat version is the better choice.
But you know what? Whatever. These are your rules, it's your book. And my plan was to follow your rules, not make up my own rules about which ones of yours make sense. And I know that may seem blisteringly pedantic, and in real-life I probably would have said to myself, "Psh, forget that," but for the purposes of this project, we're gonna go with it.
Besides, 25 grams of sugar is still a lot of sugar, no matter what you're comparing it with.
But here is where I will make an exception: when it comes to plain yogurt, skim milk, and other dairy products where sugar is obviously not being added, I'm still going to pick the low- or nonfat option. I just can't think of a reason not to. And it's better this way: now I'm compelled to buy nonfat plain yogurt and sweeten it myself with honey, thus following another rule (Number 37 - Sweeten and salt your food yourself) in the process. A win-win.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Day 12 - Probably Asked Questions
The blog is about to celebrate its one-week-iversary, so I thought I'd take a moment to talk a little more about what I'm doing and why. Here are a few PAQ's - Probably Asked Questions about the project. They're not Frequently Asked Questions, as nobody's really asked me questions about the project, let alone asked them frequently, but if anyone were to frequently ask questions about it, this is my guess as to what they would probably be.
FOOD RULES FOR REALS PAQ'S
1. What are the Food Rules?
Food Rules is a book written by food writer Michael Pollan and illustrated by Maira Kalman, who, I believe, must have visited New Mexico at some point.
An illustration from Food Rules.
A photo of our local fast food chain, Blake's Lotaburger.
Food Rules gives simple, practical advice on how to get away from the Western diet, which Pollan defines as a diet "consisting of lots of processed foods and meat, lots of added fat and sugar, lots of refined grains, lots of everything except vegetables, fruits, and whole grains."
Pollan has written several books about what the Western diet is, how it gets to your plate, and why it's no good. It's a complicated, messy, and frustratingly ubiquitous affair. Food Rules condenses all of these ideas down into 83 simple guidelines that separate the good from the bad and the processed from the whole. The rules run the gamut from, "Don't ingest foods in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap," to "Place a bouquet of flowers on the table and everything will taste twice as good."
I plan to follow Pollan's Food Rules to the letter for the next six weeks. That means no chemicals, no preservatives, no food with more than five ingredients, no food made in plants, among a slew of other things to avoid.
2. Isn't that a bit extreme?
Yes. That's kind of the point. Because I believe our dependence on preservatives, artificial flavors and colors, and scientifically modified additives - that is, what Pollan calls "edible food-like substances," is extreme. I believe the fact that we can eat whole meals, go for whole weeks or months without having to think about where our food came from, except the box or can in front of us, is extreme.
Extreme times call for extreme measures (or something like that). It's worth the time and effort to understand food and how it comes to our table on a deeper level. And it's utterly necessary, for ourselves and for the future stewardship of the planet, to learn how to consume in a way that is considerate, mindful and balanced.
3. Why?
Pollan goes on to say that the modern Western diet is "an extraordinary achievement for a civilization. [We have] developed the the one diet that regularly makes its people sick." Obesity, type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease and more than a third of all cancers can be linked to this type of diet.
But it's not just our health that suffers from the Western diet, its the health of the planet. The soil in huge swaths of this country's farmland is being stripped bare by monoculture caused by the over-production and over-processing of corn and soybeans. Pesticides are polluting our ground, soil, and sky. Fossil fuels burned to transport produce halfway around the world and into our local supermarkets are contributing to global warming and climate change.
The diet is, in essence, a total disaster.
I've wanted to give up processed food for a long time, and when I found Pollan's book, it was the perfect opportunity to give it a try.
4. Is that why you're doing this?
Yes. I'm also doing this now, specifically, for these six weeks, because it's Lent. I think that sacrifice - whatever way you observe it, be it keeping Kosher or observing Ramandan, or practicing Zen asceticism - is an important practice. It teaches us to be more conscious and aware inhabitants of the word; more understanding of the things we have to give up or go without and the sorrows we have to endure in the simple business of living, more attentive to the needs of others rather than just our own, and more joyous and grateful of the beauty the the world has to offer.
Observing Pollan's Food Rules is a perfect example of the spirituality of sacrifice. In giving up processed food, I hope to forge a stronger connection to the food on my plate and the role that food plays in the greater scheme of things. Consumption is a necessary but destructive act, and must be balanced by the loving act of creation - we forget that, I think, in contemporary society. We take, and we forget to give.
4. Oh no - so is this some kind of religious thing?
NO. God no. (No pun intended.) I'm a spiritual person, so I can't guarantee that I won't occasionally meander into spiritual musings, but this is not some kind of weird, fundamentalist thing. It's not about my personal religion (which, by the way, is none of your business) or how it should be yours.
It's just a girl who's trying to be a more observant, compassionate person.
5. What happens when it's over?
I don't know. I've been told that it takes six weeks to break a habit, which is part of why I like Lent - it's exactly six weeks. In an ideal world, I would observe these Food Rules forever and ever, but in reality, well, I really love bacon cheeseburgers - a product which I've learned would be completely impossible without the industrialization of food production.
Some years my sacrifice during Lent has led to a whole new lifestyle I would have never believed myself capable of: before I gave up dairy one year, I drank a glass of milk with every meal and smothered everything I ate in cheese. Now I never use milk except in coffee, and limit myself quite comfortably to a conservative serving of cheese or yogurt a day.
Other years, I'm not so successful: I've given up TV several times in the hopes of reducing my dependence on it, but I'm still known to indulge in frighteningly intense TV marathons that have practically made my eyes bleed.
It's hard to say, but I'm hoping for the best, because this is for me, the earth, and our future.
FOOD RULES FOR REALS PAQ'S
1. What are the Food Rules?
Food Rules is a book written by food writer Michael Pollan and illustrated by Maira Kalman, who, I believe, must have visited New Mexico at some point.
Food Rules gives simple, practical advice on how to get away from the Western diet, which Pollan defines as a diet "consisting of lots of processed foods and meat, lots of added fat and sugar, lots of refined grains, lots of everything except vegetables, fruits, and whole grains."
Pollan has written several books about what the Western diet is, how it gets to your plate, and why it's no good. It's a complicated, messy, and frustratingly ubiquitous affair. Food Rules condenses all of these ideas down into 83 simple guidelines that separate the good from the bad and the processed from the whole. The rules run the gamut from, "Don't ingest foods in places where everyone is required to wear a surgical cap," to "Place a bouquet of flowers on the table and everything will taste twice as good."
I plan to follow Pollan's Food Rules to the letter for the next six weeks. That means no chemicals, no preservatives, no food with more than five ingredients, no food made in plants, among a slew of other things to avoid.
2. Isn't that a bit extreme?
Yes. That's kind of the point. Because I believe our dependence on preservatives, artificial flavors and colors, and scientifically modified additives - that is, what Pollan calls "edible food-like substances," is extreme. I believe the fact that we can eat whole meals, go for whole weeks or months without having to think about where our food came from, except the box or can in front of us, is extreme.
Extreme times call for extreme measures (or something like that). It's worth the time and effort to understand food and how it comes to our table on a deeper level. And it's utterly necessary, for ourselves and for the future stewardship of the planet, to learn how to consume in a way that is considerate, mindful and balanced.
3. Why?
Pollan goes on to say that the modern Western diet is "an extraordinary achievement for a civilization. [We have] developed the the one diet that regularly makes its people sick." Obesity, type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease and more than a third of all cancers can be linked to this type of diet.
But it's not just our health that suffers from the Western diet, its the health of the planet. The soil in huge swaths of this country's farmland is being stripped bare by monoculture caused by the over-production and over-processing of corn and soybeans. Pesticides are polluting our ground, soil, and sky. Fossil fuels burned to transport produce halfway around the world and into our local supermarkets are contributing to global warming and climate change.
The diet is, in essence, a total disaster.
I've wanted to give up processed food for a long time, and when I found Pollan's book, it was the perfect opportunity to give it a try.
4. Is that why you're doing this?
Yes. I'm also doing this now, specifically, for these six weeks, because it's Lent. I think that sacrifice - whatever way you observe it, be it keeping Kosher or observing Ramandan, or practicing Zen asceticism - is an important practice. It teaches us to be more conscious and aware inhabitants of the word; more understanding of the things we have to give up or go without and the sorrows we have to endure in the simple business of living, more attentive to the needs of others rather than just our own, and more joyous and grateful of the beauty the the world has to offer.
Observing Pollan's Food Rules is a perfect example of the spirituality of sacrifice. In giving up processed food, I hope to forge a stronger connection to the food on my plate and the role that food plays in the greater scheme of things. Consumption is a necessary but destructive act, and must be balanced by the loving act of creation - we forget that, I think, in contemporary society. We take, and we forget to give.
4. Oh no - so is this some kind of religious thing?
NO. God no. (No pun intended.) I'm a spiritual person, so I can't guarantee that I won't occasionally meander into spiritual musings, but this is not some kind of weird, fundamentalist thing. It's not about my personal religion (which, by the way, is none of your business) or how it should be yours.
It's just a girl who's trying to be a more observant, compassionate person.
5. What happens when it's over?
I don't know. I've been told that it takes six weeks to break a habit, which is part of why I like Lent - it's exactly six weeks. In an ideal world, I would observe these Food Rules forever and ever, but in reality, well, I really love bacon cheeseburgers - a product which I've learned would be completely impossible without the industrialization of food production.
Some years my sacrifice during Lent has led to a whole new lifestyle I would have never believed myself capable of: before I gave up dairy one year, I drank a glass of milk with every meal and smothered everything I ate in cheese. Now I never use milk except in coffee, and limit myself quite comfortably to a conservative serving of cheese or yogurt a day.
Other years, I'm not so successful: I've given up TV several times in the hopes of reducing my dependence on it, but I'm still known to indulge in frighteningly intense TV marathons that have practically made my eyes bleed.
It's hard to say, but I'm hoping for the best, because this is for me, the earth, and our future.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Day 10
7. Avoid food products containing ingredients that a third-grader cannot pronounce.
"Soy lecithin" is not something a third-grader can pronounce.
This is a problem because "soy lecithin (an emulsifier)" is listed as an ingredient in every form of chocolate I've encountered thus far.
This perplexes me. I mean, it's chocolate, right? How can it ALL be processed? Didn't, like, the Mayans eat chocolate?
I have to be missing something.
On one hand, maybe soy lecithin just sounds scary and is actually something totally normal and food-like. After all, yesterday I thought that sodium bicarbonate was a terrible preservative until my friend pointed out to me that it's actually baking soda. (I was thinking of sodium benzoate.)
On the other hand, even if you had a really precocious third-grader who could nail "lecithin" in a spelling bee, it still breaks several other rules. I wouldn't keep it in my pantry (Rule 3) and I really don't think my great-grandmother would recognize it as food (Rule 2).
Or... maybe she would? My grandma apparently would do both.
"Yeah," said my mom, after I expressed my chocolate-based concerns. "Lecithin is natural. I think your grandma uses it for toffee."
Promising, but I was still skeptical. My grandma cooks a lot; she could just be an anomaly. It was time for the ultimate dispute-settler: Wikipedia.
Wikipedia says:
Lecithin is a generic term to designate any group of yellow-brownish fatty substances occurring in animal and plant tissues...
Lecithin was first isolated in 1846 by the French chemist and pharmacist Theodore Gobley; in 1850 he
Oooo-kay. We can stop there.
"Why?" my mom said. "'Animal and plant tissues.' All natural!"
"Yeah, but corn is all natural too, before they turn it into high fructose corn syrup and all kinds of other processed stuff we don't need to eat. Plus, I don't know which rule this falls under, but I'm pretty sure I'm NOT supposed to eat anything that was discovered by a chemist and needs to be isolated."
And, actually, now that I think about it, didn't I see some documentary on the Food Network about how Hershey developed a way to preserve chocolate in a solid candy form that brought chocolate to the masses? And it was, like, this impressive scientific achievement?* Yeah, that sounds right. Oh no. This looks bad for chocolate.
Oh, farewell beloved chocolate. I will miss you these six weeks. But worry not! After this is over, it is ON. Unlike ketchup, or crackers, chocolate is not something I can live without.
We all have our limits. Chocolate is mine.
*So apparently yes, Hershey did create a process that preserves milk chocolate, probably by partially lypolizing the milk, which sounds pretty bad. At least, so sayeth Wikipedia. Although apparently Swiss confectionist Daniel Peter figured out how to make chocolate solid before Hershey, through a process about which the only thing I can discover is that it involves cocoa powder, cocoa liquor and condensed milk, which sounds pretty normal. I don't know... maybe some chocolate is okay? I'm so confused.
This is the point where I want to embrace my inner investigative journalist and get to the bottom of this, but I have a job and a life. I don't have time to research the complete history of foods I want to eat. And, honestly, I don't think I should have to. So, I guess to be safe, chocolate is just out.
"Soy lecithin" is not something a third-grader can pronounce.
This is a problem because "soy lecithin (an emulsifier)" is listed as an ingredient in every form of chocolate I've encountered thus far.
This perplexes me. I mean, it's chocolate, right? How can it ALL be processed? Didn't, like, the Mayans eat chocolate?
I have to be missing something.
On one hand, maybe soy lecithin just sounds scary and is actually something totally normal and food-like. After all, yesterday I thought that sodium bicarbonate was a terrible preservative until my friend pointed out to me that it's actually baking soda. (I was thinking of sodium benzoate.)
On the other hand, even if you had a really precocious third-grader who could nail "lecithin" in a spelling bee, it still breaks several other rules. I wouldn't keep it in my pantry (Rule 3) and I really don't think my great-grandmother would recognize it as food (Rule 2).
Or... maybe she would? My grandma apparently would do both.
"Yeah," said my mom, after I expressed my chocolate-based concerns. "Lecithin is natural. I think your grandma uses it for toffee."
Promising, but I was still skeptical. My grandma cooks a lot; she could just be an anomaly. It was time for the ultimate dispute-settler: Wikipedia.
Wikipedia says:
Lecithin is a generic term to designate any group of yellow-brownish fatty substances occurring in animal and plant tissues...
Lecithin was first isolated in 1846 by the French chemist and pharmacist Theodore Gobley; in 1850 he
Oooo-kay. We can stop there.
"Why?" my mom said. "'Animal and plant tissues.' All natural!"
"Yeah, but corn is all natural too, before they turn it into high fructose corn syrup and all kinds of other processed stuff we don't need to eat. Plus, I don't know which rule this falls under, but I'm pretty sure I'm NOT supposed to eat anything that was discovered by a chemist and needs to be isolated."
And, actually, now that I think about it, didn't I see some documentary on the Food Network about how Hershey developed a way to preserve chocolate in a solid candy form that brought chocolate to the masses? And it was, like, this impressive scientific achievement?* Yeah, that sounds right. Oh no. This looks bad for chocolate.
Oh, farewell beloved chocolate. I will miss you these six weeks. But worry not! After this is over, it is ON. Unlike ketchup, or crackers, chocolate is not something I can live without.
We all have our limits. Chocolate is mine.
*So apparently yes, Hershey did create a process that preserves milk chocolate, probably by partially lypolizing the milk, which sounds pretty bad. At least, so sayeth Wikipedia. Although apparently Swiss confectionist Daniel Peter figured out how to make chocolate solid before Hershey, through a process about which the only thing I can discover is that it involves cocoa powder, cocoa liquor and condensed milk, which sounds pretty normal. I don't know... maybe some chocolate is okay? I'm so confused.
This is the point where I want to embrace my inner investigative journalist and get to the bottom of this, but I have a job and a life. I don't have time to research the complete history of foods I want to eat. And, honestly, I don't think I should have to. So, I guess to be safe, chocolate is just out.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Day 9
6. Avoid food products that have more than 5 ingredients.
Related to yesterday, while raiding my refrigerator and pantry, I happened across these crackers.
While they don't contain high fructose corn syrup, and they don't list a sweetner among the top three ingredients, they do have way more than five ingredients. And some of them sound way more like science experiments than actual food.
The thing is, prior to this experiment, I would have put these guys on the Good List. I'm always pretty conscious of eating healthily, and I would have certainly rated these crackers among the acceptable, healthy things I could put in my body: they're low enough in calories, they're not fried in grease, they've got some whole grain in them.
It's not that I wouldn't have noticed the modified corn starch, invert syrup, sodium bicarbonate and monocalcium phosphate. Aversion to words like that has been drilled into me since childhood. It's just that I would have accepted it. Boxed foods come with words on the side that make you sad, and there's nothing you can do about it. And crackers come in boxes, so if you wanna eat crackers...
This is what it's about: I thought I didn't have a choice. Now, following the Food Rules, these crackers fall so far outside the bounds of what I can eat it's unbelievable. So I avoid them. And I haven't missed them.
Since I've gotten over my initial shock, I've been eating well. There are plenty of good, fresh options for meals and snacks that have nothing to do with these crackers. Even if my standards were considerably less rigid than they are for this project, there's no reason to seek out this box or others like it.
I know I spent a fair bit of time yesterday complaining about how little choice I have about how certain foods are processed, and that's true, and it still makes me angry. But I also discovered yesterday how complacent I've been, without even realizing it.
I do have a choice. I have more of a choice than I thought I did. If I'm just a little more aware and a little conscientious, I don't have to accept the little boxes I am given.
Related to yesterday, while raiding my refrigerator and pantry, I happened across these crackers.
While they don't contain high fructose corn syrup, and they don't list a sweetner among the top three ingredients, they do have way more than five ingredients. And some of them sound way more like science experiments than actual food.
The thing is, prior to this experiment, I would have put these guys on the Good List. I'm always pretty conscious of eating healthily, and I would have certainly rated these crackers among the acceptable, healthy things I could put in my body: they're low enough in calories, they're not fried in grease, they've got some whole grain in them.
It's not that I wouldn't have noticed the modified corn starch, invert syrup, sodium bicarbonate and monocalcium phosphate. Aversion to words like that has been drilled into me since childhood. It's just that I would have accepted it. Boxed foods come with words on the side that make you sad, and there's nothing you can do about it. And crackers come in boxes, so if you wanna eat crackers...
This is what it's about: I thought I didn't have a choice. Now, following the Food Rules, these crackers fall so far outside the bounds of what I can eat it's unbelievable. So I avoid them. And I haven't missed them.
Since I've gotten over my initial shock, I've been eating well. There are plenty of good, fresh options for meals and snacks that have nothing to do with these crackers. Even if my standards were considerably less rigid than they are for this project, there's no reason to seek out this box or others like it.
I know I spent a fair bit of time yesterday complaining about how little choice I have about how certain foods are processed, and that's true, and it still makes me angry. But I also discovered yesterday how complacent I've been, without even realizing it.
I do have a choice. I have more of a choice than I thought I did. If I'm just a little more aware and a little conscientious, I don't have to accept the little boxes I am given.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Day 8
4. Avoid food products that contain high-fructose corn syrup.
5. Avoid food products that have some form of sugar (or sweetener listed among) the top three ingredients.
For my ninth birthday party, I had begged my parents for Crystal Pepsi. Remember Crystal Pepsi? I was obsessed with it. It tasted like Pepsi! But it was totally clear! Amazing! I was dying to try it, but my parents, health nuts even in the 80's before it became du jour, forbade it. They made an exception for my special day, though, and I could not wait. The first thing I did when my first guest, a sweet mousy girl named Shannon, arrived was foist a tall glass of Crystal Pepsi upon her.
"Does this have sugar in it?" she asked. "My mom says I'm not allowed to have sugar. It makes me too hyper."
"I don't know," I said. "Let's check." We read the ingredients together; I didn't understand a full two-thirds of them, but none of them were sugar. "Good to go," I said, and handed her her glass.
Needless to say, she went bananas.
That was the moment when I learned that lots of labels say "high fructose corn syrup" when they mean to say "sugar." It eventually became filed under the list of the villianous, unpronouncable ingredients, like potassium sulfate and sodium bicarbonate, that my mom constantly denounced but that still popped up in most everything, so I came to understand as unavoidable evils, like cancer, or homework.
It wasn't until I read the Omnivore's Dilemma in college that I got an idea of just how disruptive the ubiquitousness of high fructose corn syrup is both to the environment and to our health.
And, even my mom, the devoted health nut, had a whole slew of offenders lurking in her refrigerator.
Lots of these items, like the chocolate syrup and the Oreo-bits were bought for special occasions and then squirreled away for years, I'd be willing to guess, until I brought them to light for this photo.
Others, though, are everyday items, and it appears as though the worst offenders are the condiments. Ketchup, barbecue sauce, pickles, etc. I actually remember the day I bought those sweet pickles. I searched the entire store thrice over, and could not believe that I could not buy a single jar of pickles that didn't contain high fructose corn syrup.
How cruel, as condiments are just about the hardest to replace with homemade or at least person-made equivalents. In fact, that's probably exactly why condiments are the last bastion of high fructose corn syrup in our refrigerator. There's no simple alternative.
Case in point: I got super-excited to share a family recipe for homemade barbecue sauce that is utterly delicious, until I realized that the first ingredient is ketchup. Womp-womp.
This isn't necessarily a problem for this project - worst comes to worst, I can live without ketchup for six weeks. But what if I want to get away from the processed over-sweetened goop they sell in the supermarket post-Lent? Well, you can buy these newfangled "all natural" versions of ketchup they sell now, but they still break the other two of the three rules listed today, and about a million other rules as well. And you can certainly try your hand at homemade ketchup, but it only keeps for about a month, and I use ketchup maybe once every two months. Also, to be blunt, it looks like a real bitch to make.
What does one do here? I'm a big believer in voting with my money, and I'm a little irked that there's no way for me to cast my vote here, even if I wanted to. Part of me, the rational part of me, says, Ya know, you can't win them all. You don't even eat ketchup that much, so when you do, just buy the crap in the bottle.
But then the other part of me, the part that thought this project was a good idea in the first place, says, Don't let the man win!!!
What do you think? What would you do? Would you stick to your guns, no matter how it might affect your ketchup consumption? Or would you accept the fact that as long as the food industry exists as we know it, long lists of "edible foodlike substances" will eventually worm their way into our lives - an inevitable evil, like I once believed?
5. Avoid food products that have some form of sugar (or sweetener listed among) the top three ingredients.
For my ninth birthday party, I had begged my parents for Crystal Pepsi. Remember Crystal Pepsi? I was obsessed with it. It tasted like Pepsi! But it was totally clear! Amazing! I was dying to try it, but my parents, health nuts even in the 80's before it became du jour, forbade it. They made an exception for my special day, though, and I could not wait. The first thing I did when my first guest, a sweet mousy girl named Shannon, arrived was foist a tall glass of Crystal Pepsi upon her.
"Does this have sugar in it?" she asked. "My mom says I'm not allowed to have sugar. It makes me too hyper."
"I don't know," I said. "Let's check." We read the ingredients together; I didn't understand a full two-thirds of them, but none of them were sugar. "Good to go," I said, and handed her her glass.
Needless to say, she went bananas.
That was the moment when I learned that lots of labels say "high fructose corn syrup" when they mean to say "sugar." It eventually became filed under the list of the villianous, unpronouncable ingredients, like potassium sulfate and sodium bicarbonate, that my mom constantly denounced but that still popped up in most everything, so I came to understand as unavoidable evils, like cancer, or homework.
It wasn't until I read the Omnivore's Dilemma in college that I got an idea of just how disruptive the ubiquitousness of high fructose corn syrup is both to the environment and to our health.
And, even my mom, the devoted health nut, had a whole slew of offenders lurking in her refrigerator.
Lots of these items, like the chocolate syrup and the Oreo-bits were bought for special occasions and then squirreled away for years, I'd be willing to guess, until I brought them to light for this photo.
Others, though, are everyday items, and it appears as though the worst offenders are the condiments. Ketchup, barbecue sauce, pickles, etc. I actually remember the day I bought those sweet pickles. I searched the entire store thrice over, and could not believe that I could not buy a single jar of pickles that didn't contain high fructose corn syrup.
How cruel, as condiments are just about the hardest to replace with homemade or at least person-made equivalents. In fact, that's probably exactly why condiments are the last bastion of high fructose corn syrup in our refrigerator. There's no simple alternative.
Case in point: I got super-excited to share a family recipe for homemade barbecue sauce that is utterly delicious, until I realized that the first ingredient is ketchup. Womp-womp.
This isn't necessarily a problem for this project - worst comes to worst, I can live without ketchup for six weeks. But what if I want to get away from the processed over-sweetened goop they sell in the supermarket post-Lent? Well, you can buy these newfangled "all natural" versions of ketchup they sell now, but they still break the other two of the three rules listed today, and about a million other rules as well. And you can certainly try your hand at homemade ketchup, but it only keeps for about a month, and I use ketchup maybe once every two months. Also, to be blunt, it looks like a real bitch to make.
What does one do here? I'm a big believer in voting with my money, and I'm a little irked that there's no way for me to cast my vote here, even if I wanted to. Part of me, the rational part of me, says, Ya know, you can't win them all. You don't even eat ketchup that much, so when you do, just buy the crap in the bottle.
But then the other part of me, the part that thought this project was a good idea in the first place, says, Don't let the man win!!!
What do you think? What would you do? Would you stick to your guns, no matter how it might affect your ketchup consumption? Or would you accept the fact that as long as the food industry exists as we know it, long lists of "edible foodlike substances" will eventually worm their way into our lives - an inevitable evil, like I once believed?
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