gastropoda

Judging by the dustup over a piece by a Murdoch refugee granted asylum at the Taj Sulzberger, bumper stickers on nutrition nazis’ cars should read: Figures lie and liars figure. The dutiful regurgitation of a “study” finding that “healthy eating really does cost more” prompted literally hundreds of comments, some of which actually made sense. A smarter lede would have laid out the truth that “empty calories cost less,” which is no accident given a Congress in thrall to Big Food lobbyists rather than sensitive to small-scale growers. It’s the same kind of sleight of word that made a Coke seem a better nutritional investment than a small cup of Haagen-Dazs at the height of the low-fat insanity, when crazy studies were flying by wildly. The most amusing part was when the verbal scrum turned into an ode to lentils, which Ms. 401K angrily insisted “no one could eat every day.” Tell that to nearly a billion Indians. . . .

I got a very small laugh out of Irving Mill proudly listing the redundancy of an “organic egg omelette” on its lunch menu (can you make an omelet without breaking shells?) But neither my consort nor I was amused by the $4.49 travesty we tried from the cathedral at Columbus Circle; this alleged bread was all adjectives and no satisfaction. Ten organic ingredients plus filtered water were followed by “dough conditioners,” and they all added up to nasty gumminess. Usually we let a bad bread die a slow death over a few days out of guilt; this one went straight in the trash. And it made me appreciate the fact that Ray Sokolov, in his report on Google cafeterias, coined a pretty good one with “Wholier-Than-Thou.” PC is becoming a terrible rating for food.

If you like eggs, though, you might want to think about the latest installment in the saga of how foie gras is making certain idiots batshit insane. The food world’s equivalents of the right-to-birth crazies are now talking about petitioning the USDA to declare lusciously fat livers unsafe to eat. Their faux concern is exquisitely timed, just as Eric Schlosser has highlighted how humans continue to be obscenely abused for reprehensibly cheap burgers. It just makes it patently clear how badly these nutcases with no lives want to shove their noses in my plate. No wonder some days it seems we have never evolved out of Eden and that goddamn apple.

On the bright side, all government agencies are apparently so under siege that the chances of foie gras even moving onto the agenda are about as high as bananas all around in the Middle East from the Chimp and his ivory-tickling enabler. The very credible report just issued on the FDA was enough to give any sentient being the E. coli squitters: no money, no computers, no coherence, but more scary food imported and grown and distributed every day. No wonder the nutrition nazis are feeling emboldened enough to propose limiting sodium in processed foods. Everybody knows that’s going nowhere in the age of Big Food and osteoporotic government. Salt on your own private plate would be banned first.

Almost everything I cook I have shopped for myself, so maybe I’m more than normally sensitive to how prices are edging up scarily fast these days. I can never have exact change ready when a lemon poppy seed muffin at the corner shop is suddenly a dime more, or stay calm when anything from Eutopia is 30 percent higher, let alone be prepared when the potholders I have always bought for $4.25 are now tagged $4.99 in the same store. But even I was surprised, on buying four movie tickets at Lincoln Square the other day, to be asked for $47 cash (of course the credit card machine was not working). Last time I looked, I don’t think a ticket was $11.75, yet I have not read a peep about it anywhere. I couldn’t even imagine what would account for the increase in this strong economy, but it did put me off my popcorn. Which turned out to be a good thing, because the same theater determinedly gouging at the box office had exactly three attendants at the concession stand while a good 40 people were lined up with money in hand. All I have ever read since the hysterical days of nutrition nuttiness and movie-popcorn-is-a-heart-attack-in-a-box has been that theaters make all their profit on food and soda. And here was one staffed like FEMA.

Maybe I don’t get out to the movies enough anymore, but the brilliant “Michael Clayton” seemed to be phat with food significance, and not just because a couple of whistle-blowers have already been found as “suicides” in contracting scandals involving nutritional support for the troops. I loved that the law firm’s faux pity party for the dead partner was at the Waverly Inn, the implication being that the only way schlubby lawyers, no matter how rich and powerful, could ever eat there would be to rent out the entire restaurant. I liked the back story on the failure of the Clooney character’s restaurant (location, location, loan sharks). But given that the whole script was built on corporate greed to protect the bottom line at all costs, I really had to laugh at the sight in one scene of a stack of margarine containers in the refrigerator next to the Dom Perignon. Obviously the owner had stocked up for his manic armload of fresh baguettes from a bakery in SoHo. But you have to wonder how many legal beagles are on retainer to protect against future claims against that fake food sold as the healthful alternative to butter. Good night and good luck indeed.

For all the blathering about bloggers and ethics and unfounded information being disseminated in the Wild West of cyberspace, you have to wonder how a statement like Stu for Stupid’s at the Philadelphia Daily News ever made it into print. Railing on like Rush at his most drug-addled about calorie labeling in restaurants and french fries losing flavor, he stated confidently that trans fats are “basically lard.” He only wishes. Lard is a good fat compared with what he thinks makes cannoli taste good. It’s not quite on the level of his wishing another 9/11 on America, but really, someone should lock this loudmouth up on a smoking foie gras farm until he can get his facts straight. W.C. Fields called. He wants his hometown’s reputation back.

Big Food’s new motto seems to be “make shit while the sun don’t shine.” With the entire federal government evidently taken over by hacks and cronies, one company just got away with marketing frozen fecal burgers for months and now the chocolate industry is looking to cut its costs and push up its profits by getting DC approval to substitute vegetable oil for cocoa butter. Apparently pure food for everyone is a socialist idea. The WSJournal, in one of those stories that reeks of Murdochian sulfur, ran a long take on both sides that lent too much credibility to BF. Anytime candy makers start talking about healthier options, I want to run straight to the cane sugar — right now study after study is turning up nutritional benefits from real chocolate. And even if those are underwritten by Ghirardelli, you have to wonder why a 67-year-old burger packager simply shut down in a matter of days after getting caught with manure in its main product. Killer Jack in the Box, after all, is still selling strong.

Processed food is getting scarier. Kraft is now making an orange product — I wouldn’t call it cheese — that it says will “help keep your digestive system on track.” Is that a promise or a threat? Somehow I keep hearing Angelica Huston in “The Grifters” when something else that color appears. . . .

Campaigns to get Americans to eat better are the surge of the food wars. Marketers will seize on any tiny sign of progress as huge news, and the media will chime right in while people just get fatter and more diabetic. Take Hannaford Brothers’ test of a star system for supermarket food, which it just proclaimed a huge success after a year. The billboard in the NYTimes read: “Sales jump for many foods that get a ‘healthy’ rating.” But the story said the biggest increase was all of 7 percent, for lean ground beef; the other “jumps” were 1 to 5 percent. That strikes me as being as statistically significant as the Chimp’s approval rating. After googling Hannaford to see how many other news outlets swallowed the press release, I’m starting to wonder about that chain. Not only is it trying to persuade shoppers to avoid good whole milk, but a 65-year-old woman was not allowed to buy wine in Maine because she did not have her driver’s license on her. Chain policy is to card anyone who looks under 45. Which, if I’m doing my math right, is more than double the drinking age in any state. See what happens when a grocer turns nutrition nanny? Grandmas can’t get their heart-healthy shiraz.