First Texas Pete And Now Barilla. Doesn't Anybody Read The Damn Labels?

Watch Out, Chattanooga Bakery. You're Next

I was amused a few days ago when I read of a lawsuit filed by some guy in California who was claiming injury because he discovered that “Texas Pete” hot sauce is not made in Texas but is, in fact, a product of North Carolina.

O-o-o-kay. The Garner family has been making its “Texas Pete” sauce in Winston-Salem, North Carolina since 1929. It's never been made in Texas and nobody ever claimed it was. When the Garners started producing an old family recipe for commercial sale back then, a marketing advisor suggested branding it as “Mexican Joe.” But the all-American Garners wanted an all-American name, so they thought a little north of of the border and then, instead of “Joe,” they tacked on “Pete,” the nickname of one of the Garner boys. Since Western movies and movie cowboys like Tom Mix were all the rage in the early 1930s, they slapped a colorful image of a rootin', tootin', lasso-swingin' wrangler on the label. Thus was “Texas Pete” born.

Fast-forward about a hundred lawsuit-free years and now some dimwit claims that he thought Texas Pete was made in Texas because there's a drawing of a cowboy and the word “Texas” on the front label? Really!? Did this MENSA reject ever think of looking at the back label? The one that says with excruciating clarity, “TW Garner Food Co., Winston-Salem, NC 27105.” The only thing that shocks me more than the abject stupidity of this suit is the fact that it actually got accepted by a court.

Side note: As a result of this pea-brained pagliaccio's trifling tort, interest in and sales of “Texas Pete” have skyrocketed.

And now I see that someone of the same apparent mental acuity is going after Barilla. I don't even know where to start to unpack this one.

Let's begin with the basis of the suit: the pair of brain trusts filing this one say that they were enticed to buy several boxes of Barilla product based on the pasta maker's slogan, “Italy's No. 1 Brand of Pasta,” featured prominently on the front of the box between two images of the Italian flag. Well! It should be obvious that this screams the indisputable fact that the stuff in the box comes straight from the Old Country, giusto? I mean, after all, it says “Italy” on the box and then there's that green, white, and red flag and everything. (Face palm) OMG, I hope these idioti never drive past my office on a day when I'm displaying the bandiera d'Italia on the pole outside. They're likely to sue me for not being the Italian embassy or something.

Okay, I'm looking at a box of Barilla pasta. And yep, there it is. Right there on the front of the box. Between two little Italian flags. “Italy's No. 1 Brand of Pasta.” Now I'm going to turn the box over. Oh, wait! What does it say there on the side? “Barilla America, Inc. Northbrook, IL 60062?” And what else does it say, right under that part? “Made in the U.S.A. with U.S.A. and imported ingredients?” Gee, I guess the loony litigants missed that glaring disclaimer.

I've been writing for years about fake Italian food products masquerading as authentic under the guise of green, white, and red packaging and pseudo-Italian words that end in vowels. The thing is, Barilla is not fake. It's a privately-owned Italian pasta producer headquartered in Parma. And it really is the leading pasta producer in Italy. So what's wrong with displaying that fact on the packaging? How many products ballyhoo themselves as "Number One" or "The Country's Best" or "The World's Finest" or something? These nut bags are suing for false advertisement. But the claim of being Italy's number one brand is not false. 

Barilla has American production plants in Iowa and in New York that utilize the same equipment and processes that they employ in Italy. But in no place on that iconic blue box does the company state that the product in the package was made in Italy. Unless, of course, it was. In that case, the limited products  that are made in Italy and sold in America (Barilla Tortellini and Barilla Oven Ready Lasagne) clearly state, “Product of Italy. Distributed by Barilla America, Inc.” All ya gotta do is read the whole box instead of just looking at the colorful pictures. If it doesn't say “Product of Italy” or “Prodotto d'italia” or if it doesn't bear the PDO/DOP seal designating it as a Protected Designation of Origin/Denominazione Origine Protetta product, then it's not from Italy. Pretty simple. The only thing simpler is suit-happy dullards who can't read labels.

And yet, an even simpler federal judge ruled that the couple suffered “economic injury” and that they presented enough evidence to prove that they wouldn’t have bought the Barilla if they had known it wasn’t made in Italy. Like it says on the f***ing box.

Talk about a slippery slope! Buitoni uses green, white, and red packaging and there are Italian words – “dal 1827, Da Casa Buitoni” – on the label. But Nestlé owns that company and its products are manufactured in Danville, VA. Are they the next ones to be fitted for a lawsuit? What about Ronzoni and San Giorgio? Both are American-based companies. Granted, they don't mimic Italian colors or use Italian verbiage on their packaging, but the names certainly invoke Italy, don't they? And I literally can't count the number of little Italian flags that wave at me from cheap store brands that want to capitalize on Italian identification for their sadly inferior American-made dreck. Are they all liable for deceptive advertising litigation now that Barilla has been targeted?

Barilla says “assurdo.” (Well, the company spokesperson actually said “unfounded,” but I think “absurd” fits better.) They basically said, very politely, of course, “Look at the box, morons,” and then went on to state, “We’re very proud of the brand’s Italian heritage, the company’s Italian know-how, and the quality of our pasta in the U.S. and globally.”

The kooky complaint whines because Barilla doesn’t exclusively use Italian wheat in its products and exploits consumers who are willing to pay more for authentic Italian pasta. Have you priced a box of Barilla lately? Trust me, it ain't nowhere near what you're gonna fork over for “authentic Italian pasta.” Common sense should tell you that. But, unfortunately, common sense isn't all that common anymore. The whiners also gripe that Barilla has an unfair advantage over “lawfully acting competitors” at the expense of “unwitting consumers.” "Unwitting"? Let's try “witless consumers”. Like the ones who are asking an American court to stop an Italian company from using Italy’s likeness in its marketing and on its products. Oh, and, of course, they want monetary compensation because they say they overpaid for the pasta. OVERPAID!!?? Barilla sells for about two bucks a box!! Get me an address for these dipsticks and I'll send them ten bucks so they can drop their stupid suit.

Watch out, Chattanooga Bakery, Inc. You're next. (For the uninitiated reader, Chattanooga Bakery makes Moon Pies. Not on the moon, mind you, but in Tennessee. Aha! Another lawsuit in the offing!)

Okay. My blood pressure is now through the roof and my confidence in humanity is somewhere down in the sub-basement, so I'm going to conclude this diatribe. I'm just going to go out and buy me some North Carolina Texas Pete sauce, some Iowa Barilla pasta, and maybe some Tennessee Moon Pies and chill out. So sue me. 

Confessions Of An ALDI Snob

It's All My Mother's Fault

I grew up an extremely brand-conscious kid. It's all my mother's fault. I shopped with her every week from the earliest time I can remember right up through my adult years.

My mother never learned how to drive, so when I was growing up in the 1950s, my Dad, who knew little and cared less about grocery shopping, dutifully drove her to the big new “supermarket” on Saturdays. Where I came in to the picture was if she needed something in the middle of the week or in the middle of the day when Dad wasn't home. In that case she would call the little neighborhood grocer about five blocks down the street and have him pack up her order. (Yes, grocery stores did that sort of thing in those days.) Then she would dispatch five-year-old me and my little red wagon to go to the store and pick it up. Today that would be called child endangerment or something. Back then it was called “normal.” The grocer always knew what brands to pack in my mom's order. Her well-deserved reputation as the queen of picky shoppers preceded her.

Well, Dad died soon after I turned six and unless we could beg a ride to the grocery store with a friend or relative, it was just Mom and me and the wagon. I later traded the wagon for a bicycle and eventually for a car, but, one way or another, I went grocery shopping with my mother nearly every week for the rest of her life. And along the way I picked up all her shopping quirks and eccentricities, including her most notorious foible; brand consciousness.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Mom would have sooner starved than let a store-branded or off-branded product pass her lips. Those canned peas had better be Green Giant Le Sueur peas or straight back to the store they went. Boxed macaroni and cheese was okay, but only if it was Kraft. Nothing else ever even made it into the cart. It was Land o' Lakes butter or nothing. Generic cereals? Perish the thought! Only Kellogg's, Post, or General Mills cereals needed apply for residence in my mother's pantry. Birdseye, Swanson and Stouffer's were all acceptable frozen choices, but don't you dare drop some cheap, off-brand TV dinner in there.

Intellectually I knew there was nothing whatsoever “wrong” with store brands. In fact, in most cases store brands are processed and packaged by the same companies that produce the ones with the famous labels. But functionally I was my mother's son and so I avoided “cheap” store/generic brands like the plague. And stores that specialized in “discount” foods were also shunned. I only shopped at high-end stores and I only bought high-end brands.

And then ALDI came to town.

Founded in Germany in 1961 by the Albrecht family, ALDI – short for Albrecht-Diskont – bills itself as the world's first grocery discounter. It opened its first US store in Iowa in 1976, built on the company's core premise that “great quality shouldn’t come at a high price; rather, great quality should come with everyday low prices.” And to achieve and maintain those everyday low prices, you won't find hardly a familiar “name brand” in any ALDI store. Oh, there might be a smattering of “real” Coca-Cola or actual Cheerios rather than some knockoffs, but such are the exception rather than the rule. Consequently, up until quite recently, my rule was that you would never find me in an ALDI store. In fact, years ago I frequently wrote articles in this space denigrating “cheap,” “low-quality” food products in general and ALDI stores in specific. I looked down my nose at friends and relatives who shopped there and actually pitied them for not knowing any better. I was, you might say, an ALDI snob.

I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks and overcome a lifetime of learned prejudice. After at least twenty-five years of sneering at ALDI I now find myself shopping there whenever I'm in the neighborhood. And that neighborhood is expanding: ALDI expects to have around 2,500 stores in the US by 2022.

Now, that's not to say that I no longer shop at Publix or Kroger or Harris-Teeter. No, those are still my go-to stores for most things because I still believe that quality counts and high-end stores still provide the most consistently high-quality products. Unlike my ultra-finicky mother, though, I have at least tried store brands and off brands from time to time and I have frequently found them lacking. Usually it's a funky texture or too much sugar or not enough salt or something that affects the taste and overall quality. Just because they come off the same production lines as the fancy brands doesn't mean they're always the same grade. There is a reason why they're so much cheaper, you know.

It's not always true: for instance, I have found very few Publix-branded products that I don't like. But by and large I still tend to stick with the familiar brands I grew up with. And I definitely didn't grow up with any of the brands that populate ALDI shelves, so I still generally shy away from them. Again, not that I haven't tried them. I recently took a chance on a bag of their “Clancy's” brand knockoff of Baked Lays potato chips. Meh. Not so much. They're....okay, but they'll never replace the original in my pantry. And I was equally underwhelmed by some of their other snack offerings. On the other hand, their “Millville” replica of Kellogg's Rice Krispies is dead on. My wife actually prefers some of their cereals, and they carry a thin mint cookie that would make a Girl Scout weep. So it's kind of a crap shoot.

ALDI has this to say about its “exclusive” brands: “More than 90 percent of what you find in our stores is exclusive brand product. Tested in the ALDI Test Kitchen, these products taste the same or better than national brands and are backed by our Double Guarantee. If you’re not 100 percent satisfied, bring it back. We’ll replace the product AND refund your money.” Okay, if you say so. Maybe I'll be swayed someday. But not quite yet.

No, what I really shop for at ALDI are the “perimeter products.” These are the things you find around the perimeter walls of most grocery stores: the produce, the meats, the dairy products, and the frozen foods. This is where ALDI really shines. When it comes to milk, butter, eggs, cheese, etc. nobody can touch ALDI for either price or quality. Same goes for their meat. They have absolutely unbelievable prices on some of the best quality cuts of meat I've seen anywhere outside a butcher shop. The seafood selection is equally good and I've picked up some killer frozen entrees and ice creams at killer prices. They don't have the biggest produce section in the world but what they carry is good stuff and their breads are surprisingly good for store-bought product, which I usually eschew in favor of my own home-baked fare.

And I love the little hidden jewels I occasionally find. Since ALDI is European-based, there are a boatload of European products lining the shelves. The European chocolates you'll find at ALDI are to die for at a price that won't kill you. A particular favorite of mine is a DOP Sicilian olive oil that easily rivals the best “high-end” product I've ever used, and it's dirt cheap. Less than half of what the brand name stuff costs and every bit as good if not better. In fact, ALDI carries lots of DOP/PDO (Denominazione di Origine Protetta/Protected Designation of Origin) products that are rarely found outside expensive specialty shops, a real bonus for any Italian cook.

And one other plus: ALDI has so much good junk to plunder through. They have an aisle devoted to “home goods” and apparel and such. I bought some socks for my wife at a price Walmart couldn't touch. It's really nuts some of the things you can find there. But stock rotates quickly, so buy it when you see it 'cause it probably won't be there tomorrow.

Alright, I'll admit it; I was wrong about ALDI. And their German cousin, Lidl, too. You may not want to do all of your shopping there, because the stores are deliberately small and the selection purposely limited. It's part of the chain's cost-cutting business model. It's a bare-bones, no-frills shopping experience right down to bagging your own groceries in your own bags. And you've probably heard about the quarter for a shopping cart thing, right? The shopping carts are all chain-locked together and you have to insert a quarter into a slot to unlock a cart. Of course, you get your money back when you return the cart to the chain gang. That's the way the store saves by not having to pay some kid to constantly round up carts in the parking lot. It's all very austere and functional, but if you're the kind of shopper who doesn't mind looking around a bit for good finds at good prices, ALDI is a must stop.

Excuse me, now. I have to go prepare a dish of crow and some humble pie. I wonder if I can get the ingredients at ALDI? 

Bypass Advertising Chickens**t When Buying Eggs

The Incredible, Marketable Egg

As I frequently remind you (and myself), I'm old. Old enough to remember going to the grocery store to buy eggs that just said “EGGS” on the plain, old-fashioned cardboard carton. No “cage free” or “hormone free” or “free range” or any of the other clever qualifiers stamped all over the fancy containers eggs come in nowadays.

Back in those days of blissful ignorance we didn't think much about how eggs got into the cartons. Most of us knew enough about farm life to draw mental pictures of jovial farmers in overalls going out to the henhouse and raiding the nests of contented cluckers. We didn't know – or want to know – about factory farms wherein thousands of hens existed in battery cages; wire mesh contraptions, stacked and wired together usually containing more than one chicken squashed side by side with another in an arrangement that keeps them from being able to spread their wings or stretch their legs or do much of anything other than sit there and lay eggs. Each bird “lives” – if you can call it that – in about seventy square inches of space. I'm looking at my 9”x8” mousepad. That's seventy-two square inches. My wireless mouse has more room to roam than a factory farm hen. Kinda makes you look at your omelet in a different light, doesn't it?

Fortunately, awareness of these inhumane conditions is slowly forcing changes to be made in the way eggs are produced. I don't know if we'll ever get to that bucolic scene I described in the previous paragraph, but several big egg sellers and big egg users have gotten behind efforts to moderate or eliminate the cruelty. A number of states have limited or banned the use of battery cages and legislation is in the works in other jurisdictions to make things better for the birds that provide us with such an essential element of our diets.

And, of course, even as substantive efforts at improvement are being undertaken at the legal level, here come the hucksters, hawkers, peddlers, and sloganeers from the ad agencies trotting out to help thoroughly obfuscate the issue. Ever ones to leap to the forefront of a cause to see if a dollar might be made there, they have cluttered supermarket eggs cartons with all kinds of meaningless words and phrases designed to confuse consumers into feeling better about themselves and their choices. With that thought in mind, allow me to blaze a path through the chickenshit in an attempt to offer some clarity.

Let's start with “farm fresh.” If you've ever seen – or smelled – a commercial chicken farm, “fresh” is the last thing that comes to mind. It's just a term they use to sell eggs. If you want real “farm fresh” eggs, you have to go a real farm. As far as commercial egg freshness goes, check all those arcane codes on the end of the carton. There's a “pack date,” an “expiration date,” and a plant code. The plant code simply tells you in what facility the eggs were actually packaged. It's a four-digit code that's usually preceded by a “P” and if you're really curious, the USDA has a plant location tool you can use.

The “expiration date” is more a guideline for the store than for the consumer. Also expressed as a “sell by,” “use by,” or “best by” date, it just tells the grocer when to pull the eggs from the shelf. You can still safely eat the eggs for at least a couple of weeks after they “expire.” Same thing with a “sell by/use by/best by” date; it's an indicator of maximum freshness, not safety. Both expiration and sell by dates are based on the pack date; expiration dates have to be thirty days or less from the pack date and sell by dates have to be within forty-five days. The pack date is the actual date on which the eggs were put in the carton. It's a three-digit number that may be a bit confusing because it's based on Julian dating. Julian dates run from 1 through 365 (366 in a leap year), so eggs packed on April 1 of a regular year, for instance, will be Julian coded as 091.

“Natural” and “All Natural” are among the ad game's most popular buzzwords. And also among the most meaningless. They tend to slap the word “natural” on just about anything. According to the dictionary, “natural” means “existing in or formed by nature.” If that's not a broad category I don't know what is. When it comes to eggs, the USDA says egg products are “natural” if they contain no artificial ingredients, added color, and are only minimally processed. I've never encountered an artificially enhanced, color-added, processed egg, so I'm assuming just about all eggs are “natural.” And if you're scrambling unnatural eggs, I'm not sure I want to know about it.

“Organic” is the next big word of the day. It's a term that actually does have meaning when it's enforced and not just used as a selling tool. Organic eggs can be a bit healthier for you because the chickens that lay them are healthier. Organic eggs come from free-range chickens that have not been doped up with hormones, antibiotics or other drugs and which have been fed with entirely organic feed. That means the feed given to the chickens can't come from crops that are genetically modified, treated with pesticides or herbicides, or fertilized with chemical or synthetic products. And no poultry-slaughter byproducts. Which leads to another often misunderstood label: “vegetarian-fed.”

People like to think of happy chickens eating grass and grain and green, leafy vegetables. That's a nice picture but far from the truth. Chickens are omnivores: they'll eat anything including other chickens or parts thereof left over from the slaughtering process. They also eat bugs and crickets and any fly larvae – aka maggots – they happen to find hanging around in cow manure. Sorry. Probably better not to dwell on a chicken's natural diet for too long, but do keep in mind that a “vegetarian-fed” chicken's favorite between meal snack is frequently.....chicken.

I mentioned hormones. That's another specious selling point: “No Added Hormones.” By law, laying hens are not allowed to be given hormones anyway, so this phrase is a selling gimmick. Even the cheap eggs in the cheap cardboard cartons that just say “EGGS” contain no added hormones.

Same thing applies to “Antibiotic-Free.” According to the US Poultry and Egg Association, there are only three antibiotics approved by the FDA for use in laying flocks and “only a small percentage of laying flocks producing conventional eggs ever receive antibiotics due to use of effective vaccines and other management practices which minimize the need for antibiotics to treat illness.” And FDA regulations for antibiotic use ensure that antibiotic residue does not migrate to the eggs. So, it's just another advertising gimmick.

“Non GMO” is a controversial term. In and of themselves, eggs are, of course, not genetically modified. Nobody's out there trying to engineer a better chicken or a better egg through genetic manipulation. The “non-GMO” label is meant to apply to the feed the hens consume, but unfortunately most gullible consumers just see “Non-GMO” and think, “Oh, how wonderful! Non-GMO eggs!” And that's what the ad people want them to think. It sells more eggs.

“Omega-3” sounds healthy, doesn't it? And most nutritionists will agree it is. Chickens on a natural diet get an omega-3 boost from sources such as the aforementioned grasses and weeds. Such hens, therefore, lay eggs that are higher in omega-3 fatty acids than chickens that are only grain-fed. Grain-fed birds get their omega-3 charge from fortified feed. “Omega-3” eggs can be fortified with different types of omega-3 fatty acids: DHA (docosahexaenoic acid), commonly found in fish oil, and ALA (alpha linolenic acid), a component in flaxseed, walnuts, and chia seeds. EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid), also found in fish oil, is another player in the omega-3 game. The problem is there's no official recommendation for human intake of any of these substances, and even if you allow for the 1,000 mg daily intake of a combination of DHA and EPA that some experts promote, the amount of omega-3 acids added to eggs through a diet of flaxseed and fish oil are minimal. One omega-3 egg typically contains 340 milligrams of ALA and seventy-five to one hundred milligrams of DHA. So you'd have to chow down at least two-and-a-half eggs every day to get anywhere close to a beneficial level. But it sounds really healthy and it sells eggs.

“Humanely Raised” and “Animal Welfare Approved” are terms that help sell eggs to people who truly are concerned about animal welfare. You'll see little seals that say either “Certified Humane” or “Animal Welfare Approved” on the cartons. The former means that the egg producer subscribes to a set of rules and regulations that guarantee chickens have decent, healthy living conditions that include proper ventilation and appropriate nesting material in their nest boxes. They are also given the opportunity to “bathe,” something chickens do to rid themselves of lice and other parasites by flopping around in a box of dirt. The other label certifies that the birds have all these things plus being raised almost entirely outdoors and that they escape wholesale slaughter and are painlessly euthanized when their usefulness as layers expires.

Let's wrap up this walk through the chicken droppings by examining the real stars of the egg marketing firmament, “cage-free,” “free-range,” and “pastured” or “pasture raised.”

According to the US Poultry and Egg Association, “eggs labeled as cage free must be produced by hens housed in a building, room, or enclosed area that allows for unlimited access to food and water, and provides the freedom to roam within the area during the laying cycle.” However, “cage-free” only means that chickens aren’t kept in actual cages. They might still live jammed in on top of one another, up to their knees in their own and their neighbor's waste, and never see daylight within that “building, room, or enclosed area.” And remember what I said about chickens being omnivorous? It has been shown in some cases that without the barriers of cages, “cage-free” chickens living in close proximity to other chickens have a higher mortality rate due not only to the easier spread of disease but also because they tend to peck one another to death.

“Free-range” is a little better option because, the association says, “free-range” eggs must be produced by hens housed in a building, room, or area that allows for unlimited access to food, water, and continuous access to the outdoors during their laying cycle. The outdoor area may be fenced and/or covered with netting-like material. The operative word here is “access.” Just because a chicken has “access” to the outdoors doesn't necessarily mean it goes outdoors. Often chickens are still jammed into cavernous buildings with a small door on one end that opens to a few feet of outside dirt space. Even if the chickens on the far end of the building know the door is there, there's no way they'll ever get to it. And “outdoors” doesn't automatically mean some picturesque pasture where the chickens can romp and play in the sunshine. “The outdoor area may be fenced and/or covered with netting-like material;” in other words, a screened-in porch of some sort may qualify as “outdoors.”

“Pasture-Raised” or “Pastured” eggs are kind of the humane gold standard. They are exactly what they imply; eggs that are gathered from chickens who run around outdoors eating the things that chickens who run around outdoors eat. The “girls” at Vital Farms, for example, live on rotated pastures with an allowance of approximately 108 square feet per bird. Contrast that the with the seventy or so square inches allotted to commercially raised chickens in battery cages. Of course, regular old commercial eggs can sell for less than a dollar a dozen while pastured eggs go for upwards of six or seven dollars a dozen, but, as with most things in life, you get what you pay for.

Oh, and one more thing you'll find printed on egg cartons: grades. Grades are the USDA's “beauty contest” for eggs. The grades “A,” “AA,” and “B” have nothing to do with the nutritional content of the egg. While they do help weed out defective eggs with unpleasant things like blood spots, meat spots, bloody whites, mixed rot, blood rings, stuck yolks, embryo chicks, and other nastiness that you wouldn't want to serve sunny-side up, grades are primarily cosmetic standards. The highest grade is Grade AA. These eggs have thick, firm whites and high, round yolks with clean, unbroken shells. Grade A eggs, the ones usually sold in stores, have most of the same characteristics of Grade AA, except their whites are "reasonably" firm. Grade B eggs have whites that may be thinner and yolks that may be wider and flatter than higher graded eggs and while their shells must still be unbroken, slight stains are permissible. And, of course, that USDA grade shield is yet another marketing tool used to sell more eggs.

No eggs were harmed in the writing of this article – at least not yet. I feel a frittata coming on and you know what they say about not having an omelet without breaking a few organic, pasture-raised, Grade AA eggs.

A Few Things You Should Know About Ground Beef

Ground Beef Basics

In recent scribblings, I've mentioned once taking over operation of a small diner in order to help a struggling friend. Forced by circumstances into the role of absentee owner, his eatery was failing fast, due in part to the fact that the people he had entrusted to run it had no clue about food or food service. This was clear to me when I found the diner's signature burgers to be absolutely terrible. And the reason they were terrible was that the inexperienced employee running the place decided to “save money” by buying cheaper ground beef. My friend had always insisted on 80/20 beef for his burgers, but now they were being made with 73/27. And if you, like that well-meaning employee, don't know the difference, read on for A Few Things You Should Know About Ground Beef.

First, the numbers: 90/10, 80/20, 85/15, 70/30. What does it all mean and what’s the difference? Those numbers refer to the percentages of lean meat and fat by weight in the ground beef you're buying. So if your label reads “90/10,” you're buying ground beef that's 90 percent lean and 10 percent fat by weight. And these ratios make a big difference in the finished product. For example, most chefs and cooks use the 80/20 mixture for hamburgers because you need a certain amount of fat in your burgers to make them juicy and appealing. Burgers made with 90/10 tend to be a bit on the dry side. And the problem with 73/27 is that with so much fat in the mix, the patties shrink up as the fat cooks away and the resulting burgers are dense and greasy. 80/20 or 85/15 are the happy mediums most people prefer. 90/10 or even 95/5 are okay if you're using them in meat sauce for spaghetti or in tacos or something, but not for burgers. And don't think that burgers made from 90/10 beef are some kind of “diet” burgers: that 10 percent fat content still accounts for a little more than half the total calories in a 90/10 mix.

The next thing that confuses beginning beef buyers is the terminology: what's the difference between “sirloin,” “chuck,” “round,” and plain old “ground beef?” Generally speaking, “ground beef,” ground from cuts like brisket or shank, is the least expensive and usually the fattiest, clocking on average between 20 and 30 percent fat. Next up is “ground chuck,” which comes from the shoulder and is generally a bit leaner, with a 15 to 20 percent fat range. “Ground round” comes from the hind legs and averages 12 to 15 percent fat. At the top of the list is “ground sirloin,” the leanest and most expensive cut on the market. Sirloin comes from the animal's midsection and contains about 10 to 14 percent fat.

The USDA regulates what producers are allowed to put in ground meat. When you see chuck, round, or sirloin on a label, that's the part of the cow the stuff in the package comes from. It may be a combination of muscle, fat, and trimmimgs, but it's all chuck, round, or sirloin. Ground beef, however, is a little more.....shall we say “amorphous” in its definition. Thanks to a recent “policy change,” product labeled “ground beef” can come from any and all parts of the animal: esophagus, diaphragm, cheek, organ meat.....let your imagination run wild. And regardless of cut, unless you actually see the butcher run the sirloin, chuck, or round steak through the grinder, when you buy packaged ground meat, you have no guarantee the meat in the package all comes from the same animal. This is especially true of those big, opaquely wrapped “tubes” of ground beef that studies have shown may contain the meat of as many as fifty different cows.

Some supermarkets sell prepackaged, pre-made “hamburger patties.” This is still basically ground beef to which a little extra fat has been added.

Let's talk about color for a minute. You'll probably notice that everything displayed in those gleaming cases at the supermarket is a brilliant shade of red. Yet when you get it home and open it up to use it, the meat sometimes turns brownish or even gray. Yuck, right? Not really. According to the USDA, that optimum surface color is highly unstable and usually quite short-lived. Without delving too deeply into food chemistry, all really fresh meat is a reddish-purple in color due to the presence of myoglobin. When exposed to oxygen, myoglobin forms the pigment oxymyoglobin, which gives meat that vivid red color. The use of special semi-permeable plastic wrap ensures that meat retains this bright red color in the store's meat case. However, exposure to store lighting as well as the continued interaction of myoglobin and oxymyoglobin with oxygen leads to the formation of metmyoglobin, a pigment that turns meat brownish-red. The interior of the meat may even be grayish brown due to lack of oxygen. This color change alone does not mean the product is spoiled. However, if all the meat in the package has turned gray or brown, it may be on the edge of spoiling.

Storage is another question. Never leave ground beef or any perishable food out at room temperature for more than two hours. Try to plan your shopping so that the grocery store is your last stop. If you're going to be on the road for awhile, invest in a cooler or an insulated bag for your meats and frozen foods. Once you get it home, refrigerate ground beef immediately and don't keep it in the fridge for more than a day or two. If you're going to use it fairly quickly, it can be frozen in its original packaging. But if you're looking at longer term storage, you need to do a little extra work. The USDA says ground beef is safe indefinitely if it's kept frozen, but quality is another matter. You should wrap ground beef in heavy duty plastic wrap, aluminum foil, freezer paper, or plastic bags made for freezing if you're going to be storing it for awhile. I usually employ a combination of either plastic wrap or aluminum foil and a heavy-duty freezer bag. And remember to put a date on the package when you stick it in the freezer. Four months is about the best you'll get before quality starts to degrade. Again, from a safety aspect, you can keep it in there for years, but you probably won't want to eat it.

Ground beef is so versatile and can be used in so many applications that I'm not going to get into cooking lessons here. But maybe just a few thoughts about preparing ground beef for cooking. First thought, don't over handle or over work your ground beef. Too much manipulation can turn your meatballs to gut bombs and your hamburgers to hockey pucks. Just do the minimum amount of prep work to get the size and shape you want, then leave it alone.

I mentioned shrinkage: All meat shrinks up to some degree during cooking. As I said earlier, part of the reason for the shrinkage is fat content and also moisture content. Another factor is the temperature at which the meat is cooked, and how long it is cooked. Basically, the higher the cooking temperature, the greater the shrinkage. Cooking ground beef at moderate temperatures rather than hammering it on high heat will reduce shrinkage and help retain juices and flavor. Overcooking draws out more fat and juices from ground beef, resulting in a dry, less tasty product. And, of course, ground beef should always be cooked to a safe minimum internal temperature of 160 °F as measured with a food thermometer.

Finally, for maximum freshness and quality, consider having a butcher grind your beef or grinding it yourself at home. Any real butcher shop and most decent supermarket meat counters will custom grind beef for you. Just choose a whole cut and ask to have it ground. That way you know exactly what you're getting and you know it's fresh. The same thing applies to grinding meat at home. I don't think my grandmother ever bought ground beef. She had a grinder – a big silver-gray machine with a long handle – that attached to her kitchen counter into which she would drop whole cuts of meat. A few turns of that handle would produce the ground meat she used for meatloaf, meatballs, sauces, and, of course, hamburgers. You can still buy those venerable old-fashioned grinders for thirty or forty bucks or you can upgrade to a modern electric model. Or, if you have a KitchenAid mixer, as I do, there's a very efficient grinder attachment.

Besides freshness and quality, there's another benefit to grinding your own: the ability to customize. Most of my recipes for meatballs and meat sauces call for a mixture of two or even three different meats – usually beef and pork and sometimes beef, pork, and veal. Even hamburgers often benefit from having a little extra fat added in. Try grinding some bacon into your beef for the ultimate beef and bacon burger.

Ground beef accounts for an estimated 60% of all beef consumption in the United States. The USDA website can tell you all about safety and proper handling and there are tons of recipe sites with technique and cooking suggestions. But I'm hoping that I at least provided you with an informational starting point; a little more than you knew before about ground beef.

Confessions Of A Recovered Processed Food Eater

Wandering In The Processed Food Wasteland

If you are a regular reader of my scribblings – and I hope you are – you'll know that I frequently pontificate on the evils of processed food. In a simpler day and time, you could go to the food market and come home with.....food. Nowadays you come home with chemical-laden food-like substances that your forebears would not have even recognized as edible. In order to really understand what passes as “food” today, you need a degree in chemical engineering. Or do you actually know what azodicarbonamide, butylated hydroxyanisole, and butylated hydroxytoluene are and what they do? My oft-expressed opinion is that I'd prefer to be embalmed after I'm dead rather than before. I love farmers markets, butcher shops, and produce stands and I am constantly on the stump for cooking with fresh, natural ingredients. And yet, for all my holier-than-thou elitist food snobbery, I must confess to being a recovered processed food eater.

Oh yes, there was a time when I was a Wonder Bread warrior. Little Debbie was my bestie. After I swore off Twinkies, Ho-Hos, and Ding-Dongs, Hostess promptly went bankrupt. I talk a lot about learning to cook at a very young age, but in truth much of that “cooking” involved Kraft, Campbell's, and Ore-Ida. Mario Batali is my favorite Italian chef today, but back then I was all about Chef Boyardee. And it was all my mother's fault.

It wasn't that my mother couldn't cook; she was amazingly accomplished in the kitchen. Ask her any question about almost anything cooking-related and she could answer. She could do everything imaginable with chicken, beef, pork, or turkey. We had a garden out back and she could cook any vegetable you pulled from the soil. She made delicious sauces from scratch. She baked heavenly breads and rolls and her homemade cookies, brownies, cakes, and pies were legendary. No, it wasn't that my mother didn't know her way around a kitchen. Rather it was that she was part of a generation of women browbeaten by Madison Avenue marketing into believing that “old fashioned” cooking was antiquated drudgery and that “modern” methods were the wave of the future. Women were encouraged to “escape” from the kitchen as if it were emblematic of a master and slave relationship. “Convenience” was the new culinary religion and the twin gods “Quick” and “Easy” were worshiped through holy scripture printed on the backs of boxes and cans. And Mom gradually became an ardent acolyte.

Mom could make macaroni and cheese from scratch, but why bother when Kraft put everything she needed in a bright blue box? Sure she could boil potatoes and mash them up with milk and butter, but Hungry Jack made it so much faster. Why waste fifteen minutes on “long-cooking” rice when Minute Rice made it happen in five? Two minutes and a can of Campbell's tomato soup was sure easier than fooling with all those tomatoes and onions and butter and herbs and spices for an hour or more. And why go through the hassle of stocks and broths when Campbell's put chicken soup in a can?

Dishes like tuna noodle casserole were the haute cuisine of the day. Combine packaged egg noodles, canned tuna, canned soup, mayonnaise from a jar, maybe a bag of frozen peas and a topping out of a box of crackers or cornflakes and you were practically a master chef.

If all the boxes and cans inhabiting the pantry were the seraphim and cherubim of the new culinary creed, surely the freezer was the realm of the archangels: beings named Swanson and Birdseye. Adherents to this frozen form of the faith didn't even have to mix and measure. All they had to do was open a box and peel back the foil. And, alas, although my mother could cook and did cook once upon a time, by the time I made my first forays into the kitchen, she was singing in the “convenience” choir.

In later years, I could ask her for help – “Mom, what's the flour-to-fat ratio for a bechamel?” – and she'd have the answer. She never forgot how to cook; she, like millions of other American women, just chose to spend the '60s and '70s wandering in the processed food wasteland.

I frequently cook when visiting friends and relatives and I often find myself puzzled by a general lack of “stuff” in most of their kitchens. I have a ridiculously well-equipped kitchen, replete with racks of gleaming stainless steel pots and pans hanging along with a variety of non-stick aluminum and cast iron cookware. Stock pots and Dutch ovens live in a lower cabinet. Knives glisten on magnetic strips mounted on the wall above an assortment of cutting boards. I have a microwave, of course, but I also have an induction burner at the ready and a countertop oven with a rotisserie feature. Besides my heavy duty KitchenAid mixer and it's attachments, there's a food processor, a blender, and an immersion blender near at hand. A ricer? Yep. Second drawer. A slow cooker? Two of them over on the open wire shelving. Glass and metal mixing bowls of all sizes line upper cabinet shelves. You want a whisk? There are six of them in a canister on the counter. How about a microplane grater? It's hanging above the drawer where I keep my mandolin slicer. The sea salt is next to the Kosher salt which is near the Maldon flake salt, the Himalayan pink salt, and the French grey salt, all of which are on a Lazy Susan with the grinders containing the black peppercorns and the white peppercorns. And don't get me started on the bakeware. So I am completely nonplussed when I visit a kitchen and can't find a rolling pin. (I have three.) What do you mean you don't have a measuring cup? Or a wooden spoon? How do you cook? Oh. You don't. The more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that it's a symptom of the same condition: one doesn't need kitchen equipment to open a box or a can or to pop something in the microwave. “Quick” and “Easy” still have a lot of disciples.

An examination of my pantry and fridge demonstrates my evolution. Where once there were cans of Franco-American spaghetti there are now packages of dried pasta and cans of San Marzano tomatoes with which to make sauce. I used to love Rice a Roni and always had a few boxes of the chicken variety on hand. Years ago, I replicated the recipe in my kitchen and while I still enjoy the dish, I now make it from scratch. You know those handy little packets of sauce mixes you find in the grocery store? You won't find them in my pantry. What you will find are the real, honest-to-goodness, preservative-free ingredients to make them from scratch. And to make them better than the packaged stuff. I used to use the execrable cheese-flavored crap in a green cardboard or plastic can to flavor my Italian dishes until I discovered real Italian Parmigiano-Reggiano. There's no comparison. And there's no wood fiber filler in the real thing. My larder is not completely barren of cans and boxes: besides the aforementioned tomatoes, I have cans and boxes of broth that I use for soups and sauces when I don't have homemade broth or stock on hand.

Frozen pizza? Once upon a time, but not in a very long time. Not when I can turn out fresh pizza dough and homemade sauce better than DiGiorno and faster than Dominos.

I haven't bought “sandwich” bread in years. No store-bought, gummy, nutrition-less bread-like substances live in my breadbox. And you won't find rolls of “dinner rolls” in my fridge, either. Not when real bread and rolls are so delicious and so easy to make. And you won't find rolls of pre-made cookie dough in my refrigerator. Unless you count the dough my wife made using real ingredients that she then rolled and wrapped and stuck in the freezer so we can enjoy real, fresh cookies whenever we want them. In fact, there are no boxes of cake mix, brownie mix, or frosting mix anywhere in our kitchen. That's why we have flour and eggs and cocoa and sugar and milk and butter. You know, real ingredients for real food.

My idea of cooking breakfast involves cracking eggs, frying bacon, and dicing up potatoes, not pulling a waffle-like disc or a “breakfast sandwich” out of the freezer.

I'm not gonna lie: there are a few cans of ready-to-eat soup in the pantry. I've got a couple of little tubs of microwavable macaroni and cheese, too. And there are usually two or three frozen entrees around for quick lunches when need be. Some canned veg to throw in homemade soups and sauces. But that's really about it. I don't live on the preservative-laden products that will ultimately kill me. I did for many years, but now I just don't. And it's liberating as hell to be able to walk past all that garbage in the grocery store knowing I can do better, tastier, and healthier myself. And so can you.

I know I'm like a former smoker or a reformed alcoholic. I realize I can be incredibly annoying up there on my soapbox. I was getting some butter at the grocery store the other day. My wife was over by the milk and a lady said to her, “They've moved everything around. Do you know where the butter is?” My wife pointed toward where I was standing. The lady thanked her, came over my way.......and grabbed a package of Blue Bonnet! It was all I could do not to scream, “That's not butter!! Why are you trying to kill yourself?!” I know. I'm horrible.

But, dammit, there's a reason ex-smokers and ex-drinkers and ex-fake food eaters all crusade the way we do: we know better. We've all been through the valley and now we dwell on the mountaintop. And we just want everybody to join us up here to experience the freedom we enjoy. Freedom from harmful, life-threatening substances.

Okay, I'm gonna shut up now before I go all Sylvester Graham on you. (If you don't know, look it up.) Just do this for me: make the route from your mouth to your stomach pass through your brain. Read labels, do research, figure out what all that stuff is and what it does. Think about what you're putting into your body before you put it in there. Even if you can't make all the right decisions all the time, how about at least making fewer of the wrong ones? Big Food is not your friend, my friends. ConAgra, General Mills, Kraft, et al don't have an altruistic bone in their entire greedy corporate bodies. They are not out to make you happy and healthy; they are out to make a buck at any cost and the cost is usually your health and happiness.

Think, question, and think some more. I'll save you a soapbox on my mountaintop.

More On Fake Italian Food: Just Because It Sounds Italian.....

Just Because It Ends In A Vowel Doesn't Make It Italian

There's an old saying in the South: “Just because a cat has kittens in the oven don't make 'em biscuits.” You can also apply that maxim to Italian food. Something like “just because it ends in a vowel doesn't make it Italian.” Not as pithy, I know, but still true.

Nobody can argue that Italian is among the most popular cuisines on the planet. And justifiably so. Real, authentic Italian food is fresh, natural, simple, seasonal, and delicious. And because of its popularity, Italian is also one of the most counterfeited cuisines on the planet.

It's all about marketing, my friend. Everybody and his brother wants to jump on that Italian bandwagon to make a quick buck. And though there's no evidence P.T Barnum ever really said “there's a sucker born every minute,” the sentiment is nonetheless accurate. Or to (mis)quote H.L. Mencken, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”

See, ad men long ago figured out that it's easy to make something sound Italian: all you have to do is add a vowel to the end of almost any word and ecco! – instant Italian! Go ahead, try it for yourself. It's a fun parlor game even if it is insulting and denigrating to an entire culture. It's also easy to completely make up “Italian” words. Just hang together three syllables, accent the second syllable, and make sure the last syllable ends in a vowel, preferably “a,” “i,” or “o.” Ta-dah! Something “Italian” to stick on the label of your cheap, inauthentic product. But who cares? As long as it sells pizza or spaghetti, right?

Well, it turns out somebody does care. While there's obviously a matter of cultural pride involved, there's also a huge economic impact. Some Italian politicians want to impose an all-out ban on the “Italian-sounding” names used to give cheap frozen pizzas and crappy packaged risottos an Italian image. Nicola Danti, MEP of the Socialist and Democrat party, calls it “an odious and unfair commercial practice,” and he's calling on the EU to take action against blatantly misleading labeling. Danti goes on to note that said practice “affects not only Italian agricultural producers and the entire European agro-food sector, but also the credibility and trust in all the products sold in the European Internal Market.” Traditional Italian food products like Parmigiano-Reggiano, Prosciutto di Parma, Aceto Balsamico di Modena, and a host of others are staples of Italian agriculture and represent a substantial portion of the nation's economy. According to the Italian food industry federation, Federalimentare, counterfeiters who make up Italian-sounding names for their cheap, substandard products are picking the pockets of real Italian food producers to the tune of nearly 18 billion euros annually in the US market alone. Figures cited by Danti estimate the impact in the global marketplace to be as high as 70 billion euros. In North America, the disparity between fake “Italian-sounding” products and genuine Italian food products is about 10:1.

Take, for instance, the Freschetta pizza line. Introduced by the Marshall, Minnesota-based Schwan Food Company in 1996, the word “Freschetta” (pronounced “fresh-ET-uh”) is an obvious Italian fake. There is no such word, term, or name in the Italian language. The word is a made up construct designed to mimic the authentic Italian word “bruschetta.” But the madmen ad men who designed the word did not speak Italian. Had they done so they would have known that “bruschetta” is pronounced “broo-SKEHT-tah” and not “broo-SHET-uh.” Hence, their product, in order to sound really Italian, should actually be pronounced “freh-SKEHT-tah.” But the name is as fake as the pizza.

Then there are companies that take real Italian words or names and apply them to fake Italian products. Like the “Violi” brand of olive oil. What could be more authentically Italian than “Violi,” right? I know because Violi is the surname of the Italian side of my family. “I love this oil,” reads one glowing review. “I got it at Walmart for seven dollars a bottle.” Uffa! The biggest, boldest words on the label are “Violi” and “Extra Virgin.” The fine print, however, tells you it's a “Mediterranean Blend” that is eighty-five percent sunflower oil and only fifteen percent olive oil. The most authentically Italian thing about it is the brand name.

You've got to admit “Prego” sounds Italian. And it is; “prego” is the Italian word for “you're welcome.” What that has to do with pasta sauce, I don't know, but I do know that “Prego” has no Italian roots whatsoever. Back in the 1970s, Campbell's Soup was looking for something to do with their tomatoes other than making soup out of them, and so the “Prego” line was born. Competitor Hunt's makes a pasta sauce, too. But they just call theirs “Hunt's Pasta Sauce.” What's Italian about that? No wonder “Prego” sells more.

Packaging plays a part, too. Dress up any poor quality dreck in green, white, and red, slap an Italian flag on it, call it something that ends in a vowel, and most people will just snap it right up. They don't know the difference and, more distressing, they don't care about the difference as long as they can save a nickel. If it sounds Italian, that's close enough.

Now, to be honest, there is no such thing as an “authentic” frozen pizza. Nor are there any “real Italian” prepackaged dinners on the market. Anybody who buys anything frozen or prepackaged with an Italian name on it thinking they're getting a real taste of Italy does not understand the Italian concept of fresh, natural, seasonal, and simple. All the vowel-ending words in the dictionary will not make frozen lasagna taste anything like lasagne made with fresh ingredients. And I'm sorry, but the Chef Boyardee Pepperoni Pizza Kit they sell at Walmart is.........let's just say Ettore Boiardi is probably spinning in his grave.

Buitoni – maker of various prepackaged pasta dishes – sounds really Italian. But the brand is careful to say that its products are Italian “inspired.” As the official PR story goes, “Guilia Buitoni opened her little pasta shop in Sansepolcro, Italy in 1827; it was quickly a local favourite. The tradition and popularity of Buitoni products continues. Dedicated to using the highest quality ingredients to make delicious pastas and sauces, the Buitoni brand is inspired by traditional Italian cuisine.” Got it? A little Italian lady might have started it, but now it's “inspired.” Buitoni is currently owned by the Swiss-based Nestlé company, which also, by the way, makes Alpo. Hey! “Alpo” ends in a vowel. Does that make it Italian?

In fact, there are a lot of “Italian” products on the market that started out in Italian family kitchens. The aforementioned “Chef Boyardee,” for example. Or “Ronzoni,” a pasta line that goes back to young Emanuele Ronzoni, who emigrated from the small fishing village of San Fruttuoso, Italy, back in 1881. Assunta Cantisano left Italy from Naples in 1914, bound for America with a recipe for the sauce that eventually evolved into “Ragú.” There's nothing inherently “wrong” with these products. Some are actually quite good. It's just that modern commercial processing and production methods have long since sucked anything Italian out of them, leaving them with nothing but their Italian names.

The problem extends beyond frozen and packaged foods. I would hope anybody with an ounce of common sense could figure out that frozen pizza, no matter how many vowels the name contains, is not really Italian. It's another matter when it comes to basic ingredients like tomatoes, cheeses, meats, oils, and vinegars. These are the areas where counterfeiting really takes a toll.

Remember the scandal a little while back wherein an American manufacturer of “Parmesan” cheese was found guilty of adulterating the product with wood fiber filler? And yet, because the crap was packaged in Italian colors and sold as “100% Grated Parmesan Cheese,” the lemmings at the supermarket all bought the stuff and jumped over the cliff, just as the marketing people intended.

Even I can't keep track of all the olive oil fraud going on these days. When I was a kid, the only place you could buy olive oil was in shops in the Italian neighborhoods. Regular grocery stores were stocked with corn oil and vegetable oil and something nebulous called “salad oil.” But then olive oil became a “thing” and the bootlegging began. Remember the “business” The Godfather was in? Life imitates art and the Mafia really does have its fingers in the olive oil trade. Fake extra-virgin olive oil is a major problem globally. And don't judge an oil by its Italian name. You know, like “Violi”?

I was in a supermarket the other day and witnessed two ladies debating over balsamic vinegar. Now, you are not going to find a twenty-five year-aged, four-hundred dollar bottle of real balsamic vinegar on any supermarket shelf in America. The best you're going to get is the common commercial grade stuff. There were several price points available at this store, ranging from around twenty-five dollars down to a bottle that sold for about three bucks. They all had Italian-sounding names like Alessi and Colavita, but apparently Monari Federzoni “sounded the most Italian.” A freakin' sixteen-ounce bottle for a little over three dollars! I bit my tongue clear down to the root.

Real Parmigiano-Reggiano goes for about twenty dollars a pound. A pound of grated crap in a can goes for about seven bucks. Decent Italian extra-virgin olive oil is going to set you back at least twenty dollars for a seventeen-ounce bottle. You can buy a gallon of something with an Italian-sounding name for fifteen bucks at some stores. American grocery store shelves groan with American-grown “Italian-style” tomatoes with Italian sounding names, and generic prosciutto with names like “Del Duca” that never even saw a map of Italy. Can you blame Italian producers for being upset?

Here in the US, we have very few “protected” food products. Vidalia onions come immediately to mind. These onions, by law, have to be grown in certain parts of Georgia in order to bear the name. Italy has more than two hundred legally protected and regulated food products. And because many other countries, the United States included, do not recognize the laws protecting these products, the farmers, growers, and artisans who produce them are being ripped off by purveyors of inferior garbage trying to make a quick buck off their hard work and good names. Again, can you blame Italian producers for being upset?

DOP (Denominazione d'Origine Protetta or Protected Designation of Origin) and IGP (Indicazione Geografica Protetta or Protected Geographical Indication) are the two designations that ensure the origin and exquisite quality of the authentic Italian products they include. And they are the only assurance of authenticity. Words like “Product of Italy” and “Made in Italy” are worthless. Take, for example, a bottle of olive oil that says “Product of Italy” on the label. The oil might come from Morocco, the bottle from Albania, the cork in the bottle from Portugal, and the label itself from Switzerland, but as long as they all met in an Italian factory, it is a “Product of Italy.” Of course, I guess that's better than some pasta company in Kansas City trying to pass off its product under an Italian-sounding name.

It comes down to this: if you want Italian quality, buy Italian products, not just an Italian-sounding name. If you don't care about Italian quality, buy whatever is cheapest. But don't expect the same results. Be a label reader and be aware of where the food you put in your body comes from. Whether you're looking for Italian quality or not that's always a good idea.

GMO Labels: Corn Refiners Think You're An Idiot

Why Is Transparency So Scary?

As the debate over GMO labeling rages on, Congress has finally done something right and blocked an attempt by Big Food to undermine state efforts requiring food labels listing GMO ingredients. The Honorable Republican Senator from the Great State of Kansas managed to squeeze himself out of the pockets of the Grocery Manufacturers Association, the Corn Refiners Association, and other special interest groups long enough to introduce a bill that would have made GMO labeling strictly voluntary on a federal level, thereby gutting and negating mandatory efforts by Vermont and other states to list GMO ingredients at the state level. Nice dodge, huh? The old “cut 'em off at the knees” gambit. Except it didn't exactly work. By the narrowest of margins – 48 to 49 – the Senate defeated the measure, voting largely along party lines with Sen. Roberts' fellow Republicans in favor and Democrats opposed. Three senators, Cruz, Rubio, and Sanders did not vote on the proposal, apparently having other things on their agendas.

So it appears the Biotech Labeling Solutions Act – dubbed the DARK (Denying Americans the Right to Know) Act by GMO opponents – is dead. This means that individual states can continue to move forward with a variety of labeling laws. Vermont's mandatory labeling law is set to go into effect July 1, and other states are considering similar laws. Of course, some other bought and paid for bonehead in Washington could and probably will come up with another obfuscatory attempt at subverting our right to know what we're eating, but for now the effort is as dead as it deserves to be. The millions of dollars Big Food overtly and covertly spread like fertilizer all over DC are now moot, meaning they'll have to jack up the cost of our comestibles to cover their losses.

Curiously, that very thing is one of the selling points outfits like the Corn Refiners and the Grocery Manufacturers uses to frighten and mislead the gullible and uninformed into opposing labeling laws. The Corn Refiners Association, for example, released a “study” in which they claimed your grocery bill will increase by about $1,050 per year as a result of GMO labeling. “The impact of Vermont’s mandatory law requiring on package labels for foods produced with genetically modified organisms (GMOs) would increase food costs for consumers across the country due to the cost of the new labeling systems and because consumers will likely view the GMO labels as warnings, leading food companies to switch from GMO ingredients to more expensive non-GMO ingredients. Such costs would be passed on to consumers in the form of higher prices.”

The “study” throws out numbers like “$81.9 billion annually” and “2.5 percent of the median income of the poorest fifth of the population” and “nearly 2 percent (1.76 percent) in average food prices nationwide in the first year. These higher grocery costs will likely continue in the years ahead with a total cost of approximately $13,250 per household over 20 years.”

By the way, the “study” was commissioned by the Corn Refiners Association. That's in the really fine print at the bottom.

Obviously, the Corn Refiners think you're an idiot. And so do the Grocery Manufacturers, whose spokes-flak whined, "Despite today’s vote, there continues to be a strong bipartisan consensus to protect American consumers from the increased food costs and confusion of a 50-state patchwork of labeling laws."

Oh, we poor, benighted fools! How fortunate we are to have big, strong, unbiased, non-partisan organizations like the Grocery Manufacturers and the Corn Refiners out there in the trenches protecting us from ourselves. We, the weak-minded, are so easily “confused.” We should be on our knees every day thanking God that we have Corn Refiners and Grocery Manufacturers to guide our steps and show us the way, for, yea, verily, we are but ignorant clods, too oblivious and obtuse to understand these things for ourselves.

I don't know about you, but the assault on my intelligence offends me. And it probably offends the 89 to 90 percent of people recently surveyed who say they want to know what's in the food they're consuming. They're not confused, they're outraged. And justifiably so. Why is transparency so scary?

For the benefit of any Corn Refiners, Grocery Manufacturers, or Republican senators reading this, allow me to clarify the issue, using small, easy to understand words. I don't care that an ingredient is genetically modified. Food scientists say that kind of thing is perfectly alright. And you know how reliable food scientists are. (Trans-fats are good; trans-fats are bad. Eggs are bad; eggs are good. Cholesterol will kill you; ooops.....never mind.) The point the political puppets and their string-pulling masters don't seem to get is that I/we don't care that the GMOs are in there, we just want to know that they are so we can make informed buying decisions.

Genetically modified or not, for instance, I don't like high-fructose corn syrup. I want to know if the product I'm purchasing contains HFCS. If it's not printed on the label, then I don't know. Hence, I am uninformed and that, apparently, is the way Big Food would like to keep me. Even to the extent that the Corn Refiners Association, the source of HFCS, once floated a campaign past the FDA to get HFCS re-designated as “corn sugar” on food labels. Thankfully, the normally lapdog-ish FDA shot that one down. But was the effort made in order to alleviate our “confusion?” Hell no! It was a blatantly transparent attempt on the part of the manufacturer to deliberately confuse and mislead the consumer. And yet, they don't want to “confuse” us with GMO labeling? Chew on that for awhile and if it doesn't make you madder than hell, you must be kin to Gandhi.

How stupid, Corn Refiners, do you think I am? Do you really believe that I'm going to misconstrue the words “genetically modified” before the word “corn” in fine print on a food label as a “warning?” I'm not that damn dumb, thankyouverymuch. Now, if somebody were demanding that you slap “Contains GMO” in big red letters on the front of the package right under the product name, I could understand your concern. But the words “genetically modified corn” in an ingredient list don't scare me any more than the words “high-fructose corn syrup” do. Why does putting them there scare you?

Fortunately, there are rams among the sheep. Groups like “Just Label It”, “GMO-Free USA”, and Top Chef Tom Colicchio's “Food Policy Action” are actively shedding light on something that has been too long in the dark. After gathering the signatures of more than four thousand chefs on a petition, Colicchio said, "Senator Roberts' ridiculous new version of the DARK Act would deny us the right to know what's in our food and how it's grown — the same right held by consumers in 64 other nations. Consumers should be trusted to decide their own food choices, but Senator Roberts apparently thinks Washington knows best. This is exactly the sort of crony capitalism that voters across the country are rejecting."

“Just Label It” chairman Gary Hirshberg put a fine point on it when he said, "Americans have the right to know what's in their food and how it's grown." Period. End of sentence. End of debate.

Here's some advice for pandering back-pocket politicians and their avaricious bankrollers: Don't give me self-serving fuddle muddle about how you're out there nobly fighting the good fight to represent and protect me and keep me from being “confused.” It's maddeningly, infuriatingly insulting. I know better and I'll prove it at the grocery counter and at the ballot box.

Let me reiterate; I'm not questioning the safety of GMOs. That's a debate for another time. I just want to know what I'm buying. I'll decide, based on my own knowledge and research, whether or not to buy your product once I see what's in it. Don't try to sell me a pig in a poke. Make the poke sack transparent and let me see the pig. That's all I'm asking. If I still want the pig, I'll buy it, and if I'd rather have chicken, I won't. Why is that so hard for Corn Refiners, Grocery Manufacturers and Republican senators to comprehend?

I don't give a rat's ass about Presidential politics here, but Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders has it right when he says, "All over this country, people are becoming more conscious about the food they eat and the food they serve their kids. When parents go to the store and purchase food for their children, they have a right to know what they are feeding them. GMO labeling exists in 64 other countries. There is no reason it can’t exist here."

Campbell's has broken ranks with its other Big Food cronies. The soup giant that also owns the Pepperidge Farm, V8, and Prego labels will place a small statement under their ingredient lists that reads: “Partially produced with genetic engineering. For more information about G.M.O. ingredients, visit WhatsinMyFood.com.” That's it. No flashing signs, no dire warnings. No “confusion.” Information, plain and simple. And that's all 89 to 90 percent of us want.

(UPDATE: from the Associated Press: "General Mills said on Friday (3/18) that it would start labeling all products that contain genetically modified ingredients to comply with a law set to go into effect in Vermont. General Mills, the maker of Cheerios, Progresso soups and Yoplait yogurt, said it was simply impractical to label products for sale in just one state, so the disclosures required by Vermont starting in July will be on all its products, beginning over the next several weeks." Guess that means the cost of my Cheerios will now skyrocket. Oh, I'm so confused.)

“Flavor” Doesn't Always Mean What You Think It Does

Better Living Through Chemistry

It was interesting to read a recent piece in the Lansing State Journal in which it was noted that maple industry groups from Vermont to Michigan sent a letter to the FDA protesting food products labeled as “maple” that don't actually contain any real maple. This development came hard on the heels of a widely circulated report on the lack of real Parmesan cheese in “100% Grated Parmesan Cheese” and of a lesser scandal over a seeming lack of mozzarella in McDonald's mozzarella sticks. Could it be that people are finally waking up to the fact that when it comes to food, things aren't always what they seem?

To be fair, the McDonald's kerfuffle was more a matter of questionable quality both in terms of product and preparation than of any attempt to mislead or defraud. There really is supposed to be mozzarella in the mozzarella sticks.....somewhere. They just need to learn to cook the darn things so that the cheap cheese doesn't leech out in the process. The Parmesan-less Parmesan is a much more serious matter, although I have been beating the drum about wood fiber-filled crap in a can for many years. The mystery to me is why it took so long for everybody else to catch up. The fake maple accusation, however, represents a new front in deceptive or misleading labeling. And the only thing that keeps it from being a fairly legitimate one, the one metaphorical fly in the maple ointment, is the word “flavor.”

I know a little about real maple. My Canadian-born grandmother used to receive “care packages” from family in Quebec and Vermont containing blocks of pure maple sugar. Sometimes she'd receive a quantity of pure maple syrup from which she would make her own maple sugar. It was all wonderful and delicious, putting anything Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth concoct to shame. Those and other so-called “pancake syrups” are not considered “real” maple syrup because they are not produced by boiling maple sap to yield syrup. They're usually just some form of corn syrup or, worse, high fructose corn syrup, over which somebody passed a maple leaf. And that's where the whole “flavor” bugaboo comes into play.

Have you ever brought home a bottle of Log Cabin maple syrup? No, you haven't. Because there's not the first mention of “maple” anywhere on the label. Check it out. “Log Cabin Syrup.” Period. But due to the successful marketing of its “rich maple flavor,” we have come to think of it as maple syrup. Same goes for Mrs. Butterworth, Aunt Jemima, and most of the rest of the pancake syrups we all think of as “maple.” Not a trace of maple in the bunch. Corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, water, cellulose gum, caramel color, sodium benzoate, sodium hexametaphosphate, salt, sorbic acid – those are available in abundance in all or nearly all of them. A couple throw in a little molasses. But no maple. What they all have in common, however, is a healthy dose of natural and/or artificial flavors. And it's those added “flavors” that make things taste like maple.......or orange.......or vanilla.......or licorice......or whatever the chemists want them to taste like.

The maple folks are mad at Quaker Oats over “Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal.” They're upset with Hood over “Maple Walnut Ice Cream.” The letter sent out by maple syrup producers and by the International Maple Syrup Institute and the North American Maple Syrup Council claims that misbranding deceives the consumer and hurts those using real maple syrup. “It deceives consumers into believing they are purchasing a premium product when, in fact, they have a product of substantially lower quality.”

I've got news for the maple people: the problem is not necessarily with the producers. Misleading and deceptive practices are only effective on people who are easily misled and deceived. As H.L Mencken was fond of saying, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.” Or as P.T Barnum succinctly put it, “There's a sucker born every minute.”

Simply put, if the average consumer would only learn to read labels rather than to believe high-flown advertising claims, he or she would be a lot harder to mislead. And if they took the time to learn what those labels mean, there would be a lot less deception.

Take “natural flavor,” for example. The under-informed shopper picks up a package and reads “natural flavor” on the label and automatically thinks, “Okay. Natural. That's good.” Or is it?

The Environmental Working Group maintains a “Food Scores” database of over 80,000 foods. “Natural flavor” is the fourth most common ingredient listed on the labels of those foods.

The definition of “natural flavor” under the Code of Federal Regulations is: “the essential oil, oleoresin, essence or extractive, protein hydrolysate, distillate, or any product of roasting, heating or enzymolysis, which contains the flavoring constituents derived from a spice, fruit or fruit juice, vegetable or vegetable juice, edible yeast, herb, bark, bud, root, leaf or similar plant material, meat, seafood, poultry, eggs, dairy products, or fermentation products thereof, whose significant function in food is flavoring rather than nutritional” (21CFR101.22).

Both artificial and natural flavors are made by “flavorists” in a laboratory by blending either “natural” chemicals or “synthetic” chemicals to create flavorings. Added flavoring, both natural and artificial, could contain anywhere from fifty to a hundred ingredients, including solvents and preservatives. By and large “natural flavors” come from natural sources – i.e. the original ingredient is found in nature and then purified and extracted and added back into the food. However, that does not always mean that the “natural flavors” in your strawberry Pop Tart are just crushed-up strawberries. No, they are more likely to consist of chemical compounds originally found in strawberries. These substances have been chemically enhanced and added into your food in a lab rather than in a kitchen. “Artificial flavors” are just straight up synthetic chemical creations. Either way, it's all better living through chemistry.

I mean, okay, the maple producers are upset, but do they have any more reason to be pissed than vanilla makers or orange growers? How many products say “vanilla flavored” or “orange flavored” on the package? There's little to no real vanilla or orange in any of them, either. And last time I checked – which was just now – Quaker's “Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal” may have “maple” in the name, but it's not listed among the ingredients; just the usual suspects “whole grain rolled oats, sugar, natural flavor, salt, calcium carbonate, guar gum, oat flour, caramel color, reduced iron, and vitamin A palmitate.” No allusion to maple anywhere. So is “Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal” any more or less deceptive or misleading than, say, “orange” Kool-Aid? I guess if truth in labeling were carried to ridiculous extremes, the product should be called “Chemically Enhanced Naturally Flavored Faux-Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal,” but that's not likely to happen. Besides, they'd have to make the label bigger.

No, the real answer lies in educating consumers. Encourage them to read every label and know what all the gobbledygook means. If everybody who looked at a box of “Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal” would only read the label and realize, “Hey! There's no maple in there!”, the problem of “deception” would be moot. Caveat emptor. If a shopper knows that a product with “maple” in the name doesn't actually contain any maple but buys it anyway, he's the real sap. (Sorry. Couldn't resist that one.)

So let's not drag the government any deeper into our business than it already is. Besides, the trained seals at the FDA aren't going to stop jumping through Big Food's hoops anyway, so why bother sending them letters? Those bureaucrats are only interested in numbers – specifically the number of zeroes that follow a dollar sign. Better to spend your time and resources educating people in a manner that will result in informed buying decisions. Everybody from Plato to Aristotle to Thomas Jefferson to George Carlin has extolled the virtues of an educated populace, but we have yet to achieve one. I once saw a sign in a bookstore that said, “open your mind: read a book.” Where food is involved, let's start a little smaller and say, “open your mind: read a label.”