Where Food Comes From

Where Food Comes From

To Whom It May Concern: 

I would ask that you do not LIE TO ME while I am eating lunch because it makes me cranky.

No, I’m not writing this to the PEOPLE who eat lunch with me.  I am writing this to the INDUSTRIES that make and package my lunch.  I’m tired of the lying.  If I want bologna, I will make that sandwich myself!

Here’s what I’m talking about:

                The designer carton of today’s lunch boasts, among its virtues:  “NO preservatives”

What, pray tell, then is “630 mg of sodium”?!  If I was to drop dead right now it would probably take me a year to start decomposing.  It’s what the Nutritionists and Dietitians (friends I keep at a distance because they make me feel badly - just kidding) call it “Hidden sources of sodium.”  Once I started reading labels JUST looking at sodium, my eyes were wide-open!  There is NOTHING we need to eat that comes in the door with 600, 800, or 900 grams of sodium….. unless you want ankles that look like they belong in a zoo!

So back to this package of delicious lunch –and yes, it really was – which lists 490 Calories.  And you look at it and think, “hmmm… not bad…. Only 490 calories.”  Sure Baby-cakes, read down a few more lines, then reality smacks you on the forehead.   Wrap your brain around: 21 g of Total Fat.  Look it, frankly, I’ve got about 21 lbs. of extra fat that came from somewhere.  I wouldn’t mind it so much if it evenly distributed itself across my terrain, but, no that’s not how that works.  Ever.

I got nervous when it said, “Contains raw fish.”  I wondered if eyeballs were included.  Thankfully, they were not.  When I order pizza I never order anchovies.  Not because I don’t like the taste.  In fact, I might if I tried.  It’s just I can’t get over the idea of food that stares back at me.

Think of the scene in The Christmas Story where the family has to abandon their plan for Christmas Dinner because the Bumpus’ dogs from next door ate the roast.  They end up at the Chinese restaurant eating Peeking Duck.  Not Peking Duck.  Peeking Duck.  It’s got eyes, and it’s mouth has an apple or something jammed into it.  Then the Chef comes to the table and they sing “Deck the holls with bowrs of horry, fa-ra-ra-ra-ra” and the Chef hacks the duck’s head off with one fell swoop.  Now back up and recall when was the last time you were served duck or chicken with its head ON?  Um, never. 

I won’t go on for too long on explaining this or I will talk myself right into being a vegetarian.  Point:  I don’t want the duck, the anchovies, or any kind of fish staring back at me when I eat.  It makes it too real about where food comes from ….

To be completely honest, I IGNORE where food comes from.  I have to.  As I said, my conscience may kick in and I might go vegetarian or go vegan and get a bunch of tattoos and piercings.  (Latent vegan theory:  I won’t wreck an animal’s body, but I am okay with defacing my own body?)  

So you do what you are going to do, and I do what I am going to do.  And that is:  eat veal.  

Omigosh how I LOVE veal.  I have eaten it like five different ways and don’t know which I like best:

                                Veal parmigiana ….. IF it’s breaded thin and crispy and there is a slab of                                               mozzarella on it.

                                Yes, and throw in a side of angel hair – not regular spaghetti – must be angel hair.

                                Veal Francais …. Lightly breaded with lemon and capers.  What the heck is a                                       caper?  It’s a texture thing.  They feel like eyeballs look.  I am not going to eat                                     those.  So skip the capers.

                                Veal Marsala …. Marinated in marsala.   Wine has never in the history of the                                         universe made anything taste badly.  Then there’s the Lovely mushrooms that                                       have been pre-fried and have a crisp, not slimy taste.  Skip the darned onions.                                        Needless.  Plus they make me ill.  No, I’m not allergic.  Just that my stomach                                       hates them.  That’s all.

Inevitably over the years when I have ordered veal when sitting with the Younger Set I get harassed.  “Do you know where veal comes from?”  and “It’s a baby cow!  How can you eat that?”  To which my Number One go-to, all time Response will always be:  “What do you have against chickens?”  My accusers recoil a bit, “What do you mean chickens?”  I drill in further with a note of sarcasm:  “What do you have against chickens?  Where do you think chicken nuggets, tenders, etc. come from?  Chickens have mothers too, you know.”  End of discussion.

The next box of the day contains a slice of frozen pie.  It assures me that the ingredients are “real.”  Define “real.”  If I am eating pie, I have long abandoned the concept of real being associated with “good-for-me.”  If anything, it’s just “less bad.”  

And why give me an expiration date on the boxed pie?  What a thoughtless waste of ink!  Suggestion:  Put an expiration date or a statement on frozen mixed vegetables.  Make it say something like, “if these appear shriveled and are surrounded in more ice shards than Dr. Zhivago’s HOUSE, it may be time to throw these out.”  At that point I remember that I really bought the veggies for my domestic collection of birds.  And they end up not getting to eat them either.  Why would I feed my birds expired junk?  The birds outside on the lawn don’t even get stuck with that! 

The thing that concerns me most on any kind of pre-packaged food is the items listed that I, with two college degrees, cannot pronounce.  Why are there three different kinds of oils listed?  When I cook something, I only use one.  Why is there gum in this product?  Is it an adhesive?  Is there a relationship between Salt, Sodium Caseinate, Sodium Citrate and Disodium phosphate?  I think I might not need a chemistry degree to start asking questions again about “Hidden Sources of Sodium.”

Recently I received an email from a health corporation that said, “I really regret eating healthy today – said no one ever.”  I would like to propose that their sample used for the survey data was way too small. 

At least I think I can play nice in the sandbox and say I will agree with the Portion Control Proponents …. and also with St. Thomas Aquinas who said “all things in moderation.”  It is worth noting that Aquinas was known as the “Dumb Ox” by his college seminary buddies.  And it was only half because they didn’t know what he was thinking.  He went on to write the greatest theological works ever written.   To boot, he had a mystical experience where God swept him up in the air when he was praying…. From looking at the artistic renditions, it was about 300 pounds of “Dumb Ox” floating in the air.  Moderation indeed.

Anyways.  That’s my rant for today.  I would like to dedicate it to my new Heroine:  Emma Morano in Verbania, Italy who in May of 2016 was 116 years old –the oldest living person in the world.  The secret to her longevity?  “The doctor said Morano has never had a very balanced diet, relying mostly on animal protein, the occasional banana and grapes in season.  Her diet now includes two raw eggs and 100 grams of raw steak a day ….”  Emma Morano, you rock the planet!!!

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