Red Pill or Blueberry Pill? (Memories!)

Where are my keys!?

Researcher Elizabeth Loftus plays you a video of a car accident. Afterward, she asks you how fast the cars were going when they "smashed" into each other. Her research suggests you're more suggestible than you might like: you'll probably give a higher speed estimate when the question contains high-impact language like "smashed." You may go so far as to start spicing up the scene: throwing in some nice extras, like broken glass, or if you're Michael Bay, an explosion. This study confirms what those looking through their house for glasses already on their face already know: your memory bank isn't exactly Fort Knox. Your memory bank is more like one of those small-town banks out west with a single teller and no security that seems designed to be one stop on a cinematic desert crime spree.

He's content to admit the role of imagination.

Memory is prominent in the collective conscious this year, after some possible breakthroughs in Alzheimer's research has provided a new spark of hope for many. But the memory loss inflicted by a disease like Alzheimer's is very different from the simple, garden-variety unreliability of a healthy person's memory. Most people can do things to improve memory on a basic level, such as learning to remember the names of people you meet at a party (instead of avoiding referring to or interacting with them after you promptly forget their names). This doesn't address the problem of suggestibility and revisionism evidenced in the aforementioned study. There may be no cure for human nature. But what can we do to stop losing our car keys? Are there any healthy choices to improve memory? In other words: Is there anything you should be buying at Foods For Living for that pi-memorizing contest you eye up and never enter every year? (By the way, you may want to scope the competition first...)

Gingko biloba (銀杏)

The Gingko tree is a living fossil. It hasn't changed much since prehistory. Some extant specimens are estimated to be 2,500 years old. It's nearly poetic that this ancient witness to earth's story may be one of our best allies in the struggle for better memory. Gingko biloba is used in Europe for combating a type of dementia that involves reduced blood flow, since gingko seems to improve blood flow in small vessels. It may (or may not, more research is required—you'll see that this is a continuing theme) help slow and stabilize some forms of dementia. But it may not (or may) be beneficial for healthy brains. There are also some possible side effects, so (as always) consult your doctor before taking gingko.

Omega-3 fatty acids

People have been drinking fish oil (cod liver being the classic) for hundreds (if not more) years. Sea creature oil use for medicinal purposes goes back to Hippocrates, at least. (He preferred dolphin oil. This was before Greenpeace.) However, the benefits of fish oil (much like another, more serpentine oil), have fallen victim to gross hyperbole over the years. That said, many medical professionals acknowledge that the Omega-3s found in fish oil (and nuts and flax) may help the brain:

http://www.webmd.com/brain/news/20140122/fish-oil-might-guard-against-loss-of-brain-cells

http://health.howstuffworks.com/wellness/food-nutrition/facts/benefits-of-omega-33.htm

http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/expert-answers/fish-oil-supplements/faq-20058143

http://www.mensfitness.com/life/new-study-can-fish-oil-pills-really-improve-your-memory

Acetyl l-carnitine

Again, the goal of taking this amino acid in the realm of memory has more to do with combating dementia than improving the average person's memory. Lots of outlets make bold claims about ALC—I suggest reading about it for yourself before diving in.

 Ginseng

High-powered stimulant and favorite of the Wu-Tang Clan, ginseng may also improve your brain generally, if not memory specifically. There is at least some clinical evidence of this. I'll quote the link here:

"...in a 2-month, double-blind, placebo-controlled study of 112 healthy, middle-aged adults given either ginseng or placebo, results showed that ginseng improved abstract thinking ability. However, there was no significant change in reaction time, memory, concentration, or overall subjective experience between the two groups. Another double-blind, placebo-controlled study of 50 men found that 8-week treatment with a ginseng extract improved ability to complete a detail-oriented editing task. A double-blind trial of 16 healthy males found favorable changes in ability to perform mental arithmetic in those given ginseng for 12 weeks."

Like most of the above, ginseng is available in pill form and herbal tinctures. As I said, ginseng is a stimulant. It's best treated like a polar bear: with due respect for its awesome might, and avoided when intoxicated.

Vitamin E

Feeling like something a little more classic? How about something with "vitamin" right in the name? Vitamin E, the fat-soluble tocopherol group... may be helpful for Alzheimer's. Maybe. But experts generally agree that Vitamin E isn't going to be your memory tonic, either.

Blueberries

I'd be blue too—no one else even cares.

Blueberries, that stepchild of the berry consumption world, have at least found a home in the brain-boosting community. (Look, I know you like blueberries. There are lots of likable stepchildren, too. Some of my best friends are stepchildren. But you rarely crave blueberries. There are fewer blueberry festivals, pies, etc., than those for its ruddier siblings, is all I'm saying.) There are lots of supplements, containing blueberries, with the goal of sharpening cognition and memory. Alas, the more you read, the more the focus seems to be on preventing mental decline with the onset of age. Obviously, that's great. But what about those of us who are still marginally young, and simply want to avoid acting like that guy from Memento?

The most effective choices are probably not something you can put in a pill: sleep, water, blah blah blah. But! If you want to sleep better, have I got some supplements for you! I'll make you a deal on this here Melatonin right now!

The bottom line: memory is like belly fat: no one's entirely happy with theirs, you can make a dent with supplements, and real advances are only possible with proper diet and exercise. Memory exercises, you say? Oh, yes.

THE DIET OF ICONIC FIGURES OF PEACE

When people talk about great historical figures, they tend to focus on accomplishments, philosophies, and fascinating biographical details. That's understandable, but it's problematic for me.

When it comes to great people and great art, almost every angle has been thoroughly investigated. At this point, there's probably an accompanying info-graphic for anything you'd like to know. That said, I'm still humbly mining obscure data, looking for connections where none likely exist.

Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. You probably know a lot about his life and times if you grew up in the United States. But do you know what he ate? That's what I thought. It's time to examine...

THE DIET OF ICONIC FIGURES OF PEACE

Martin Luther King, Jr.

You can take the Civil Rights leader out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the Civil Rights leader. King was born in Atlanta, Georgia. As a Georgian, King loved many traditional Southern foods. His favorite delicacy was allegedly pecan pie. I've got to think the oleic acid and natural fiber in pecans kept King healthy and energized during his many endeavors. The rest of the pecan pie was less wholesome, but you can get the least-processed, healthiest version of the necessary components—brown sugar, butter, crust of choice, sugar, cinnamon, chocolate, etc.—at your local Foods For Living.

King was said to have loved fried chicken. If you're not interested in traditional fried chicken, and you're skipping the above pie, you can still do a culinary King tribute with this pecan-encrusted chicken.

King also loved his collard greens. Why collard (and mustard and turnip and kale) greens never became a staple of Northern U.S. cuisine is a mystery to me. They are adored everywhere from Croatia to Brazil to the Kashmir region of India. Eating collards is essentially a rite of passage if you're south of the Mason-Dixon. As an excellent source of Vitamin C, soluble fiber, and a modulator of the innate immune response system, collard greens should be a staple everywhere. Adding pork shoulder and fat back is optional.

Gandhi

According to the Gandhi Foundation website, Mahatma Gandhi's diet was a product of his strong beliefs about the nature of life and morality. If you handed Gandhi a fun food survey, and he stopped leading a monumental campaign of nonviolent resistance for a second to fill it out, it might look like this:

Name: Gandhi

Favorite Coffee Blend: I do not consume coffee. Unnaturally stimulating the reflexes and mind is a poor substitute for true spiritual growth.

Favorite Deli: New Delhi. If you are referring to storefronts where flesh food is freely dealt and consumed, I do not have a favorite—they are all abhorrent to me.

Favorite Milk: That which comes from an animal is likely to be diseased. I reluctantly drink goat's milk under compulsion from my doctor.

Favorite Omelet: I prefer food that does not necessitate a massacre of the unborn. Even sterilized eggs are the result of an aberration in nature, and only possible through the unwise meddling of humankind.

Favorite Craft Brew: I do not appreciate this line of questioning. I will take this space to express my humble belief that attaining purity through diet alone is impossible. A clean diet is one step on the path to spiritual purity, but taken alone, is useless.

Barack Obama

Our President, who received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2009 (to much controversy), has a hard job: being married to a figurehead for public health and diet reform. So what does someone under nonstop scrutiny eat to stay healthy, alert, and photogenic? Some of Obama's favorites, the ingredients for which are all available at FFL, include:

• Salmon rice bowl with a ginger lime sauce
• Arugula salad with mushrooms and goat cheese
• thin crust pizzas with vegetable toppings
• chicken and spinach salad with toasted sesame dressing
• spinach simmered in yogurt, obviously inspired by aloo saag

I'm impressed with the Commander-in-Chief's selections—he doesn't skimp on flavor, while remaining committed to a balanced diet. Too bad he can't do the same with the budget, am I right? (Was I really supposed to abstain from making a single political pun in the entire entry?)

Malala Yousafzai

As the most recent recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, Malala is one of the most inspiring and universally adored figures to emerge in recent years. She's had a lot on her plate lately. But a lot of what, exactly? It's hard to say, but as a Pakistani, she had a wide variety of delicious food to choose from. (Malala no longer lives in Pakistan, but rather in Birmingham, England—a city less renowned for its culinary traditions than for its industrial music scene and rampant poverty.)

 Malala is from the Swat district of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan. Pakistan is a place of regional diversity, and cuisine can vary greatly from place to place. The cuisine of Malala's native province is known as Pashtun cuisine. 

Pashtun cuisine favors lots of rice dishes, with liberal kebabs and spiced meats thrown in for good measure. Regional highlights include:

• "Ghatay Rujay, literally 'big rice,' a rice dish, resembling risotto, prepared only in Charsadda where the small grain rice needed to make it is grown."
• "Kichrei, sticky medium-grain rice cooked with mung beans and onions, topped with melted qurot sauce. This is mostly eaten during winter."
• "Londei, (spiced lamb jerky cooked with rice)"

The next time you put a fork in your hand, ask yourself: is this something one of the Iconic Figures of Peace would eat? Of course not. No one would eat a fork. But regardless of what you're eating, remember, perhaps, that the very reason you have the freedom to eat it where you do may or may not have something to do with some of their accomplishments, which they wouldn't have accomplished without eating. I'm just saying, be grateful and eat more greens. Organic greens. From Foods For Living. 

Myths About Health Nuts and the People Who Eat Them(?)

Some people say: I just don't like health food culture. Health food people are smug, they eat weird food, they're fussy, and misguided. Besides, health food is mostly marketing.

I say: Settle down. Let's unpack some of the assertions I've heard about "health food people" and "health food" in the last couple of weeks on TV, in the store, and, of course, on the internet.  


Some people say: "Advocacy for labeling GMOs is based on fear and ignorance."

Ideas about food change.

I say: Advocacy for most anything involves a diverse group of people who share a common idea. Their paths to that idea may be wildly different. Not every Yankees fan comes to the stadium for the same reason.

There are doubtlessly people who think that GMO food is categorically poisonous and harmful to the body. I don't share this viewpoint, based on the available data. But that doesn't invalidate the other concerns a person could reasonably have about labeling GMO food. Namely, that people have a right to know what they're eating, that GMO technology is powerful and therefore should be approached with caution. My chief concern is the avalanche of environmental events that could be triggered by continually introducing genes into the world that were engineered for convenience, and not with the long view of earth's homeostasis in mind. I don't think any of these concerns are alarmist. More importantly, I'm always open to new ways of thinking about these issues as evidence and lobbyists and advertisers all vie for ideological market share on this issue.

Some people say: "Organic produce has just as much pesticide on it as traditional produce."

I say: Sometimes it has more. Wait, wait! Don't panic. The pesticides allowed within the guidelines of organic certification are specific, and derived exclusively from government-approved sources. This means that, when pesticides are deployed, farmers must use more of these tolerated pesticides than their ultra-potent synthetic counterparts.

Critics of organic farming often say that this is an academic distinction, and that poison is poison, and the dose is what's important. Well, I agree. The dose is what's important. While water, salt, and alcohol will all kill you in certain amounts, their potency in relation to something like, say, strychnine, is best expressed using exponents; not all poisons are created equal. Obviously I'm not saying that synthetic pesticides are as potent as strychnine. (Strychnine is, incidentally, "natural," deriving from the Strychnos nux-vomica plant. Homeopathic enthusiasts will recognize the second half of that Latin name. Again, it's all about the dose, right?) The point is, when it comes to poison, some would say "six of one, half dozen of the other." That's mathematically sound, if a little obvious; but there's a world of difference between six doses of raisins and six doses of ricin. 

Being averse to potent synthetic poisons on your food doesn't make you an idiot or a fear-monger.

Some people say: "Fresh produce contains more nutrients than frozen food."
  
I say: Ripe produce contains more nutrients than unripe produce. Frozen produce is often frozen at the peak of its ripeness, and accordingly contains more nutrients than a fresh counterpart which was shipped "early" to maintain a shelf life. That said, most frozen vegetables and fruits are blanched in hot water before being frozen—it's then that they lose some Vitamin B or Vitamin C. So the above statement is true, or not, depending on which nutrients we're talking about.

Some people say: "'Health food people' think organic food is categorically more nutritious."

In an extremely informal survey I conducted, I didn't speak with anyone who actually thought an organic tomato was more nutrient-rich than an non-organic one. Granted, this "study" took me about ten minutes, so it's not quite ready for a peer-reviewed journal yet. But I often read (or hear) the assertion that people who prefer organic products are simply misguided or duped as to their value. I don't doubt that there exist people who are eating organic oranges to get "more Vitamin C," but I don't think the average organic produce enthusiast prefers organic produce for that reason.

As far as the actual science, there are conflicting studies (classic, right?) about this. My intuition is that organic products appeal to consumers primarily because of what they do not contain (which involves certification and oversight).

Some people say: "Health foods are just fads."

I say: Let's get it out there right now: a lot of health foods are just fads. The modern "health food" scene includes people eating obscure berry abstracts with an expectation of losing weight without exercise on one end; on the other end are people who simply think eating quinoa in the morning makes a lot of sense. As in any subculture, the extreme viewpoints are the most interesting, and also the easiest to attack. But beneath the unnecessary vitriol surround grocery consumer habits in 2015, there is a baseline of users that makes decisions based on the information they have. Some of that information is going to be new, and it's going to generate excitement. Suddenly, we have a "fad." But just as cliches can obscure truth through overexposure, fads aren't exclusively the province of idiots.

It's really "cool" right now to hate sugar. You could call sugar avoidance a "fad," just as the avoidance of high fructose corn syrup is a "fad." The debate about high fructose corn syrup really underlines a central truth about the American diet: we eat way too much sugar, and it has real consequences, regardless of the sugar's particular variety. No one—I mean no one—debates that consuming lots of sugar is a bad idea. Without the HFCS-avoidance fad, we wouldn't have the level of sugar consumption awareness in our culture that we do, with the accompanying jockeying by manufacturers to capitalize on it by reducing their products' sugar content.

Not all fads are created equal, obviously. But let's not forget that concepts like "cooking food" and "valuing human life" were fads, once, too. Luckily, they caught on.

You Called Your Company WHAT?

My first trip to a health food store  ("natural grocery retailer") was a lot like watching television from another country. At first, everything seemed, well, foreign. But I quickly began to see more similarities than differences. Every audience loves stories of love, revenge, and triumph. People the world over fight for what they believe, and live their lives in dramatic one hour increments. This is apparent in any language. Health food stores, for all their differences, are still food stores. They still refrigerate their milk. It's not like they rely on the barter system and a massive abacus to keep the books straight. The employees put their pants on one leg at a time, even if those pants are made of Fair Trade hemp.

Still, the absence of Nabisco products and their ilk during my initial nat-groc foray was almost jarring. I strode through the aisles, seeing few familiar names, and lots of very unusual ones. There was the expected variety of "healthy" and "natural" sounding names, but also some products with names like "Two Moms in the Raw." I felt like I was in the Punk section of my local record store, where bands try to impress you with their audacity before you ever hear their music.

As with anyone selling to select demographics, health and natural food manufacturers have the freedom to get a bit wild, even expressionistic, with their products. They aren't, by nature, trying to court as wide an audience as the big boys of grocery. (Unless they are.) This gives rise to some straight-up wacky names, as well as some that are surprisingly poetic. Some names express the ideology of their manufacturers. Some are clear miscalculations in branding. Some clearly began as 2 A.M. jokes and simply got carried away, all the way through the trademark process. Let's explore some of natural grocery's staples and sorest thumbs. 

Two Moms In the Raw

Two Moms... in raw granite.

This company clearly takes the cake in some sort of natural grocery mock election for extreme name choices, provided the cake it takes does not contain any processed sugar, flour, or anything heated over 118° F. That said, it's actually amazing how much information is conveyed about this company via five short words. If you had to guess, is Two Moms In the Raw the product of a Kraft think tank, or a scrappy and irreverent small business founded by two women with children? Exactly.

According to their website, Two Moms began when the founder Shari was diagnosed with MS in 2004. A raw diet was part of her response to the diagnosis. Her raw, gluten-free, kosher treats became sought-after snacks in her community, and she stepped up production. With her mother (Mom #2) pitching in (along with her husband and in-laws) since 2006, TMITR is truly a family business. Despite finding success, the company still operates out of the same kitchen. More wholesome and less scandalous than the name would imply.

Late July
If you had no context, you might guess "Late July" was a literary journal published somewhere in New England. This vaguely harvesty name does little more than suggest a time when you might consume some of their products. (Don't be confused—it's not a "freshest by" date.)

CEO Nicole Dawes's reasons for naming her company after one half of a month are still unknown as of this reporting, but I'd hazard her rationale isn't hereditary: her father was a potato chip magnate. His company? Cape Cod Potato Chips. Simple, honest, geographically specific.

Dawes is much more transparent about her company's values. Their products are organic and GMO-free. Late July even donated $25,000 to a campaign advocating GMO grocery labeling. It probably didn't sting too much. Late July was the fastest growing maker of tortilla chips in the world as of March 2014. 


Food Should Taste Good

These go on sale, but they're never free.

I think we can all agree on the premise behind this company's name, if not the name itself. This strikes me a lot like calling your humanitarian aide non-profit "People Should Be Nice." This company's name seems to be a rebuttal to a common grievance in the era of health food past: that health food didn't taste very good. This company is coming out swinging, telling you that their food does indeed taste good, and that that's a guiding sensibility for their brand. The name is nearly the polar opposite of Food Should Taste Good's parent company, General Mills. In fact, I cannot conceive of food product company name more, well, generic, than "General Mills." Maybe... "Food Source, Inc."

Regardless, FSTG has provided good-tasting food, free of gluten, trans fats, and GMOs, since 2006. Their current slogan? "Super long name. Super delicious chips."

Garden of Eatin'

What strikes me immediately on GOE's website is their claim to be the "#1 brand of tortilla chip by $." This information is from 2010, and is calculated by total market share, not growth, so the claim is not incompatible with Late July's above claims. It does, however, tell you that an organic tortilla turf war is about to get real, real quick.

As far as the company name and self-described history, it may be best to summarize with bullet points:

• The first paragraph contains the words "visionary," "metaphysics," "Pennsylvania," and "traveling product demonstrator." This is in relation to the company's founder, who I've just decided to make a biopic about. 
• The company's first product was "Bible Bread," available at your local Foods For Living. 
• The company was purchased by Hain Celestial Group, Inc., in 1998. 

I give Garden of Eatin' big points for integrating a dropped letter "g" gerund verb into a pun alluding to Genesis. I also give them big points for making really great-tasting chips. Seriously, they're really good. You'll love their Fig Leaf Fiesta chips.*

If You Care

"I already did the dishes, if you care."

I'll confess to having a soft spot for "If You Care." I love their name without irony: I think it takes guts to call your company something that sounds like something said under one's breath during a lover's quarrel. Besides, "If You Care" is a conditional construct, but we never get to learn the condition! When is the last time you read company's name and felt suspense?!

If You Care created the first unbleached coffee filters available in the US, in 1990. They quickly followed their debut with unbleached baking paper and baking cups. Why? Because chlorine and bleach belong in a pool and your hair, respectively, not in your baking cups. In 2004, they released the first commercially available 100% recycled aluminum foil.

So they care, is the point. They care about the environment, and carbon footprint considerations are central in their product design choices.

In case the riddle escaped you, here's the answer: "If You Care, You'll Buy Their Stuff." Seriously, though, their products don't shine like their shelf neighbors because they don't bleach or dye their packaging, either. They're keeping it pretty real.

Did I miss one of your favorite weird health food names? Let me know int he comments on Facebook!



*Not a real flavor.

What's With the Staff at FFL?

Sometimes people ask me: what's it like to work at Foods For Living? Should I apply? Are the employees really as smart/snooty/smiley/weird as they seem!? I thought I'd share some personal impressions. The following meandering reflections are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Foods For Living, but come on, they probably kinda do.

This post is more specifically about Foods For Living than most. You've been warned.


When I was in college, the word "culture" meant something distinct. I understood culture in the context of undergrad anthropology. People across the globe ate different foods, made different music, worshiped different gods. Culture. I got it.

It was only when I left the warm embrace of academic definitions to become a real grownup that "culture" began to take on a more sinister aspect. If you've ever had the pleasure of working for a corporation that takes itself seriously, you know what I mean. You've heard all about their "culture."

I remember sitting in an atmospherically-lit basement conference room, surrounded by scented candles, learning to recite the "creed" of my new employer's "culture" via a call-and-response mantra. I even got a medal embossed with our "culture's core values." Then we watched a video that included an animated duck.

When I worked at a prominent Fortune 10 company, we watched videos about "improving our culture," and doing more to emulate that zenith of all corporate cultures: Disney. I suggested having more rides, more fun, or doing anything, whatsoever, that Disney does, instead of intentionally losing our customers in a fog of tech and sales blather. This was not received well; apparently, being snarky wasn't part of our culture, either.

When I applied at Foods For Living, I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, FFL always seemed refreshingly informal from the outside, but I knew they were successful, and ambitious, and where those things abound, the trappings of nascent "corporate culture" are often close behind. I also knew they are employee-owned, and that seemed like it might invite an extra layer of bureaucracy and dead-seriousness.

My interview mostly concerned the death of music as a physical medium (like CDs), and the advent of electronic media, and how this meant that people were largely their own guides in the modern sonic landscape. (As opposed to the old days, when some snobby record store owner would be a begrudging--or eager--Sherpa, personalizing your purchase. And judging it.) It was a great interview, but a bit confusing. Where was the stuff about "swapping best practices?" It's almost like my interviewer gave me credit for knowing about the concept of "customer service" in advance. This "I'll assume you're smart until proven otherwise" attitude was the absolute inversion of my previous experience. The hiring guy—who I came to know later as Chris, the Silver Wizard (a name he most certainly did not give himself), navigates largely by intuition. He loves music, I love music, and he got us talking informally so he could assess all sorts of things about my personality without the formality that stiffens most interviews.

That's not to say that FFL doesn't take its hiring seriously—any employee-owned business knows it is potentially taking on full-time employees for the long haul. And that's precisely why intention, even "spirit," is often more important than experience. Because anything can be taught—except character.

This was obvious during the months that followed. Much of the staff worked and played together. There were volleyball and basketball games (not explicitly endorsed or arranged by FFL, dear corporate lawyers). People lent each other games and books and lots of knowledge. People didn't guard their belongings in the back, because, seriously, you don't have to worry about that here. (And there are always a dozen people back there anyway.)

New ideas weren't struck down as silly (unless they were). If you had an idea and wanted to put the work in to make it happen, it would happen.

But beneath all the surf-shop hijinks, there pulsed a strong business model. As FFL's own founder once told me, "The 'Hey Man' business model doesn't work.'" Employees can't be late. They have to show up, and tell the truth about why if they can't. They have to check in the back for extra stock, even when they're 87% sure there isn't any. They have to try and keep the store clean. They have to watch trends, and crunch numbers while they're crunching granola. Business is still serious business.

All the extras, though? That comes from someone you see every time you walk in. If there's a product, feature, or sample that you love in the store, it's because someone who works there individually decided it was delicious or worthy. I often had to explain to customers who referred to "corporate" or our "central office" that there was no such thing. As the sole location, owned and operated by people on-site, Foods For Living is a fluid, ever-shifting place. Like a Christopher Nolan movie with more organic produce.

This means that its destiny, as an employer and as a member of the community, is affected by every person who walks in the door, whether they wear the green apron or not. Every voice is heard. That's why Susie is subtly debuting her "Every voice is heard at FFL" tattoo in that picture.

The store is the first job for many, and it may be the last job for at least a few. For most, it is simply a stop along the long road of life, where the staff endeavors to warm you up, crack a joke, put some chocolate in your pocket, and send you on your way. The goal is for everyone to leave the store a little better than they came in. To the people of Foods For Living, that's just part of the culture, and—thanks goodness— they're too cool to put it that way. 

Thanksgiving—Keeping It Real

I want to have an authentic Thanksgiving.

I've realized I don't know what that means.

As anyone from anywhere will tell you, our version of their food is not their version of their food. After you recover from that burst of eloquence, try to recall the last time you were dining out with a person from Italy or Korea or Gambia, and he said, "This is exactly like my mother used to make." Cooking is like a game of telephone that spans oceans and decades. The further you get from the point of origin, the less "authentic" your meal. According to the conventional wisdom, if you want REAL Pad Thai, you'd better break out your passport,

This is the time of year when we Americans can proudly toss all that wisdom out the window and into the nearest three-foot snowbank. It's Thanksgiving, and you can't spell Thanksgiving without some of the letters in "America." This November, WE say what's authentic. (I resist the temptation to make a topical election joke.)

This got me thinking about what makes a Thanksgiving dish "authentically" Thanksgivingesque. Is authenticity a binary trait? (Yes, to the extent that Doritos are most certainly not legit Thanksgiving fare.) Or is authenticity better conceived as a scale, given the intervening centuries since the inception of 1) the "original Thanksgiving" and 2) the inaugural national holiday version 240 years later?

Moreover, don't we need to decide what makes a dish "Thanksgivingesque"? Is it adherence to a prescribed bill of fare, or merely adherence to the holiday's amorphous "spirit?" Why can't I commit to simply typing a statement?

Let's look at our dishes and begin the inquisishes.

Turkey:

This is obviously the marquee Thanksgiving dish. Why would people have traditionally eaten turkey, as opposed to the other meat options of the period? Well, we don't drink turkey milk. We don't eat turkey eggs. Turkeys are especially amenable to being livestock, and they're hardy enough to withstand Plymouth winters in the age before HVAC. Eating turkey is also an ancient British practice, and the tradition traveled with the colonists.

But!

Did they eat turkey at the original dinner?

It's unclear. Pilgrim Edward Winslow wrote that the governor sent some men to catch fowl, and they returned with...four deer. So venison, which I've yet to see at a Thanksgiving table in my lifetime, is authentic from a historical standpoint. Turkey...is a maybe. But it was, according to scholars, almost certainly seasoned with Native American spices. If it was there.

Historical authenticity: ?
Spirit of Thanksgiving Authenticity (SOTA): 10

Apple/pumpkin/cherry pies:

Imagine that you crossed the ocean with about two high school classrooms worth of people. You landed, but the land was so unforgiving and cold and brutal that you decided it would be better to stay on the boat. About half of you died. Come spring, you had a lot to be thankful for, but no sugar, no ovens, and probably a touch of scurvy. And definitely no pies.

Then why pies at Thanksgiving? Because pies are delicious.

Pies are also indulgent. And indulgence has become a central part of Thanksgiving. The austerity and despair that preceded the "first Thanksgiving" nearly demanded an indulgence in their wake.

When Abe Lincoln decreed that Thanksgiving was officially a national holiday--during the Civil War--one can imagine the catharsis and jubilation that must have accompanied a presidential mandate to party in the midst of a nightmare. It's also easy to see Lincoln, whose primary directive was always that of preserving the Union, trying to engender national solidarity and familial cohesion with such a proclamation. (By then, turkey was, de facto, the main course, and pies were plentiful.)

What we see as simple indulgence can be historically re-framed as a reaction to the original banqueteers having survived terrible tribulation. I'm giving the big, bland turkey and the pie both credit for always creating an atmosphere of plenty wherever they're served.

HA: 0/10
SOTA: 10

Women:

Personally, I don't feel my Thanksgiving is complete without the presence of a few ladies. These "ladies" are usually members of my immediate family. Such was not always the case. Food historian Andrew Beahrs, author of Twain's Feast: Searching for America's Lost Foods in the Footsteps of Samuel Clemens, explains that the original Thanksgiving feast was as much a military alliance with the native Wampanoag people as a celebratory dinner. It's likely that the women cooked the bulk of the food that the men hunted, but firsthand accounts of the feast mention only men in attendance. Still, I like women, and I think it's more than arguable that there should be some at Thanksgiving. Also, there would be no human race without them. So: 

HA: 0/10
SOTA: 10

Cranberry Sauce: 

The Wampanoag people ate the berries raw, but there was certainly no option for a sweet sauce at the original dinner. That would have required sugar, which was not available, or maple syrup, which wouldn't become widely available in the Americas for another sixty years. Still, cranberries get special treatment on Thanksgiving these days, even from people who generally steer clear of their bitterness. So:

HA: 0/10
SOTA: 6/10

Green Bean Casserole: 

The 1950s: America was burying the terror of WW2 with shovel loads of patriotism and optimism. Hairstyles reached a historical pinnacle of ornate design. A middle class lifestyle marked the end of wartime austerity and an increased interest in honing the domestic arts. It was a perfect storm for the advent of the "recipe card." 

While recipe cards seem like a quaint relic in the Internet age (FFL clings to tradition!), there was a time when they were a viable low-priced alternative to a whole cookbook. Certain parties with a vested interest realized they could move product by creating recipes that contained the products they were trying to sell. 

21 Years after The Campbell's Soup Company devised the Cream of Mushroom soup—which had already spent two decades as a casserole binder—a Campbell's employee named Dorcas Reilly devised the GBC. It has enjoyed a divisive reputation since. And "divisive" is not very Thanksgiving. And neither are casserole-promoting corporate propaganda cards. So:

HA: 0/10
SOTA: 2/10 

Authenticity is a hard master. I'm not sure I'm ready to eat fresh venison with exclusively men on Thanksgiving. I suppose I'll just concede to have a "normal" Thanksgiving, full of anachronisms and good intentions, like everyone else. Whatever we eat, I'm sure they'll be plenty. And I won't forget why "plenty" was so important to those sharing that first feast.   

 

 

 

Pumpkins!

Linus van Pelt, keeper of a (fruitless) annual vigil for the Great Pumpkin, wisely reflected, "There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin." Well, brace yourself. I'm (eventually) going to disregard one third of that sound advice.

Pumpkins have long enjoyed a supernatural reputation in our culture, along with the reactions that often brings. While Linus's allegiance to the Great Pumpkin can be laden with all sorts of Waiting For Godot-level existential overtones, Linus's own creator, Charles Schultz, has said he merely thought it funny to have someone confuse Halloween and Christmas.

Still, it's easy to see why the pumpkin is the most numinous and mystical of cultivars. Walk down any small town street at dusk and watch the things leer at you with jagged glee from every porch, each glowing rictus borne from the surgery of small hands.

I'll admit that autumn's chill has always struck me as crackling energy, rather than the preamble to months of frigid weather. As a fan of fall, the pumpkin is always a welcome seasonal garnish. It's round and bright, with enough inherent whimsy to make a fine mascot for a playful season.

The pumpkin is inextricably linked with North American autumn, and the marquee holiday contained therein. At least part of this makes sense, unlike, say, Hawaii and pineapples, or Chicago and those hotdogs covered in phosphorescent "relish." Pumpkins are actually native to the place where they're most celebrated: North America. (My favorite America, by a slim margin.)

Many Native American tribes enjoyed pumpkins. They roasted their seeds and peels, and ate their flesh. But it's a mistake to imagine the Aztecs rolling huge round pumpkins down those wacky step pyramids for laughs. Let's squash those fantasies right here, Gallagher-style. (Actually, let's never do anything Gallagher-style, ever.) The pumpkins of the early Americas were slim, crooked-necked specimens.. In fact, what we call "pumpkins" are indeed a variety of cultivar, with Cucurbita pepo being the primary variety. We tend to put specimens from C. argyrosperma, and C. moschata under our pumpkin umbrella (pumpkinbrella) as well. You don't have to be a botanist to know the difference, as anyone who has had her local pumpkin patch lady soberingly warn, "Not all pumpkins are pie pumpkins, hon," can attest.

Australia is characteristically fast and loose with the rules—those folks call all winter squash "pumpkins." It's better than "gross melons," which is what Jacques Cartier called our fair squash after encountering it during his initial St. Lawrence expedition. (Actually, he called them gros melons, which translates roughly from the French as "big melons.")

If that's all Greek to you, then you may want to take a look at this: pepon (πέπων). That's what the ancient Athenians would have called the pumpkin, had they been so fortunate as to have any. But Europe missed out for most of history. That's good, since they may not have been ready for the pumpkin.

The people of Italy certainly weren't—at least not when the Peanuts comic strip was introduced there. The characters and their antics were universal enough to make it to Italy, but the Great Pumpkin wasn't. When Peanuts debuted there, the Great Pumpkin became Il Grande Cocomero—The Great Watermelon. (Gros.) 

When Hollywood inevitably takes the saga of the Great Pumpkin's struggle for recognition to the silver screen, this is probably the pumpkin they'll cast to portray him. At 2,032 pounds, the world's largest pumpkin could also easily stand in for Jabba the Hutt. It could also make a mind-shatteringly terrifying Jack O'-Lantern.

While our Jack-O'-Lanterns might be bulging, rotund affairs now, such was not always the case. Back in Ireland, the first Jack-O'-Lanterns were carved from turnips. The eponymous Jack, goes the folkloric story, was tricked by the devil (who else?) and forced to wander the land as a spirit. Hard up for a light source, he carved out the nearest turnip, and the rest is (sort of) history. When Irish immigrants came to the Americas, they brought the habit and the holiday, and now we ritually hollow gourds in mid-autumn.

Back in Ireland, though, people are still carving out gourds and roots. It's sad, really, when you consider that the world's largest turnip is only about 85 pounds. That's a mere fraction of the world's largest pumpkin--but still enough to pique Snoop Dogg's interest. 

Whether, like Snoop, you're interested in horticulture, or just like pumpkins, you'll be glad to know they're rich in potassium, vitamin A, and fiber. Of course, your local Foods For Living has delicious pie pumpkins, gourds, and winter squash of all sorts, just ready to be devoured. Anyone dressed as their favorite FFL employee gets 10% off the gourd of their choice!

Happy Autumn!