July 2002

So Fresh and So Clean

A fridge full of veggies, a farmers' market in spring, a large box of tea bags. They're my joy and my creativity. Looking at the fresh untouched supplies, I'm filled with hope. Excitement at the plans brewing in my head. Passion for creation. Or frustration when sacred inspiration ditches me at the refrigerator door. It happens all too often in the sweltering summer of my kitchen. But, not to fear, I've learned to bypass my chef's block to avoid wasting all that perishable promise.

Creating something sumptuous and fulfilling out of items too simple alone - that's my idea of satisfaction. Meeting the challenge of an unknown ingredient is another of my treasured pleasures. Yet there's more driving me to cook from whole foods than just the creative outlet or the burst of flavor in the end. It's also about knowing my food and regaining control of what I consume.

When I look at the bags of mono-food at the corner store, I see not nourishment but rather the sleazy underside of our high-speed connecting world. Cheese Nips, Coca Cola, Twinkies.

How can I make a product with a shelf life allowing for global travel and constant consumer faith?

How can I process the hell out of some cheese and still make it taste like cheese? Better yet, how can I avoid using much of an expensive ingredient like cheese in these hyper-cheesy crackers??

How can I make a ridiculously cheap product by abusing government "farm" subsidies?

The brief answers:
Over-processing and added chemicals.
MSG.
Mega-corporations masquerading as farmers at Capitol Hill.

It's all there beneath the bright and shiny wrapping. The stuff's practically not food anymore.

Now, don't get me wrong. I can understand the allure of pseudofoods. There's the guarantee that it'll be just like it was last time. The unbeatable prices. The lack of appreciable preparation time. (If you have to do more work than opening the package, it's generally just adding water or microwaving it.) I grew up on this stuff. I probably ate more bags of cheese curls than ears of corn growing up. There must be an addictive chemical added because occasionally I crave the stuff even now. But whenever I succumb to temptation, I feel as sleazy as if I'd picked up a hooker. There's just nothing good about it.

And so I sit here with sun tea steeping on the windowsill. I don't have to read any labels to know that I'm avoiding high-fructose corn syrup. When I sip the freshly made tea, I feel refreshed. It's as easy as the trashy junk food, but my mind, my heart, and my tastebuds know it's 100% real.

As for my fridge full of squash, I admit they take more work, but in the end they offer real satisfaction.