I read this (below) at the end of an article, “Unhappy Meals,” in The New York Times Magazine, January 28, 2007. It is by Michael Pollan, whose most recent book, The Omnivoreâ€™s Dilemma, was chosen by the editors of The New York Times Book Review as one of the 10 best books of 2006.
This is just the very end of a much longer piece, but these are worth sharing and considering. Two things that struck me, as far as HM discussions have gone:
1. Peters had mentioned wanting to go back to caveman ways in terms of diet and exercise, etc. J. E. disagreed with that, saying we should take advantage of what we know now–because we don’t live (thankfully) like cavemen anymore. Pollan suggests eating foods that our great-great grandmothers would recognize as food. That seems an interesting rule of thumb. I have to admit, in my own case, my great-great grandmother would not recognize a vegetarian diet for the most part, especially the soy products that I eat fairly frequently now.
2. Ned had brought up not wanting to go to the farmer’s market or local food co-op because it’s too expensive. Fair enough: it is more expensive. Pollan responds interestingly, I think, on that point below, and makes the case that it’s worth the extra cost. Pay more; eat less. Unfortunately, for myself, I’m probably paying more and eating more. And that’s certainly the case when we go out to eat, rather than cook at home.
Some more thoughts on our continuing conversation about food and health. Here’s to all of you, from the very, very cold northlands. We have been below zero degrees for the last four days.
And here’s from the end of Pollan’s article:
To medicalize the diet problem is of course perfectly consistent with nutritionism. So what might a more ecological or cultural approach to the problem recommend? How might we plot our escape from nutritionism and, in turn, from the deleterious effects of the modern diet? In theory nothing could be simpler â€” stop thinking and eating that way â€” but this is somewhat harder to do in practice, given the food environment we now inhabit and the loss of sharp cultural tools to guide us through it. Still, I do think escape is possible, to which end I can now revisit â€” and elaborate on, but just a little â€” the simple principles of healthy eating I proposed at the beginning of this essay, several thousand words ago. So try these few (flagrantly unscientific) rules of thumb, collected in the course of my nutritional odyssey, and see if they donâ€™t at least point us in the right direction.
1. Eat food. Though in our current state of confusion, this is much easier said than done. So try this: Donâ€™t eat anything your great-great-grandmother wouldnâ€™t recognize as food. (Sorry, but at this point Moms are as confused as the rest of us, which is why we have to go back a couple of generations, to a time before the advent of modern food products.) There are a great many foodlike items in the supermarket your ancestors wouldnâ€™t recognize as food (Go-Gurt? Breakfast-cereal bars? Nondairy creamer?); stay away from these.
2. Avoid even those food products that come bearing health claims. Theyâ€™re apt to be heavily processed, and the claims are often dubious at best. Donâ€™t forget that margarine, one of the first industrial foods to claim that it was more healthful than the traditional food it replaced, turned out to give people heart attacks. When Kelloggâ€™s can boast about its Healthy Heart Strawberry Vanilla cereal bars, health claims have become hopelessly compromised. (The American Heart Association charges food makers for their endorsement.) Donâ€™t take the silence of the yams as a sign that they have nothing valuable to say about health.
3. Especially avoid food products containing ingredients that are a) unfamiliar, b) unpronounceable c) more than five in number â€” or that contain high-fructose corn syrup.None of these characteristics are necessarily harmful in and of themselves, but all of them are reliable markers for foods that have been highly processed.
4. Get out of the supermarket whenever possible. You wonâ€™t find any high-fructose corn syrup at the farmerâ€™s market; you also wonâ€™t find food harvested long ago and far away. What you will find are fresh whole foods picked at the peak of nutritional quality. Precisely the kind of food your great-great-grandmother would have recognized as food.
5. Pay more, eat less. The American food system has for a century devoted its energies and policies to increasing quantity and reducing price, not to improving quality. Thereâ€™s no escaping the fact that better food â€” measured by taste or nutritional quality (which often correspond) â€” costs more, because it has been grown or raised less intensively and with more care. Not everyone can afford to eat well in America, which is shameful, but most of us can: Americans spend, on average, less than 10 percent of their income on food, down from 24 percent in 1947, and less than the citizens of any other nation. And those of us who can afford to eat well should. Paying more for food well grown in good soils â€” whether certified organic or not â€” will contribute not only to your health (by reducing exposure to pesticides) but also to the health of others who might not themselves be able to afford that sort of food: the people who grow it and the people who live downstream, and downwind, of the farms where it is grown.
â€œEat lessâ€ is the most unwelcome advice of all, but in fact the scientific case for eating a lot less than we currently do is compelling. â€œCalorie restrictionâ€ has repeatedly been shown to slow aging in animals, and many researchers (including Walter Willett, the Harvard epidemiologist) believe it offers the single strongest link between diet and cancer prevention. Food abundance is a problem, but culture has helped here, too, by promoting the idea of moderation. Once one of the longest-lived people on earth, the Okinawans practiced a principle they called â€œHara Hachi Buâ€: eat until you are 80 percent full. To make the â€œeat lessâ€ message a bit more palatable, consider that quality may have a bearing on quantity: I donâ€™t know about you, but the better the quality of the food I eat, the less of it I need to feel satisfied. All tomatoes are not created equal.
6. Eat mostly plants, especially leaves. Scientists may disagree on whatâ€™s so good about plants â€” the antioxidants? Fiber? Omega-3s? â€” but they do agree that theyâ€™re probably really good for you and certainly canâ€™t hurt. Also, by eating a plant-based diet, youâ€™ll be consuming far fewer calories, since plant foods (except seeds) are typically less â€œenergy denseâ€ than the other things you might eat. Vegetarians are healthier than carnivores, but near vegetarians (â€œflexitariansâ€) are as healthy as vegetarians. Thomas Jefferson was on to something when he advised treating meat more as a flavoring than a food.
7. Eat more like the French. Or the Japanese. Or the Italians. Or the Greeks. Confounding factors aside, people who eat according to the rules of a traditional food culture are generally healthier than we are. Any traditional diet will do: if it werenâ€™t a healthy diet, the people who follow it wouldnâ€™t still be around. True, food cultures are embedded in societies and economies and ecologies, and some of them travel better than others: Inuit not so well as Italian. In borrowing from a food culture, pay attention to how a culture eats, as well as to what it eats. In the case of the French paradox, it may not be the dietary nutrients that keep the French healthy (lots of saturated fat and alcohol?!) so much as the dietary habits: small portions, no seconds or snacking, communal meals â€” and the serious pleasure taken in eating. (Worrying about diet canâ€™t possibly be good for you.) Let culture be your guide, not science.
8. Cook. And if you can, plant a garden. To take part in the intricate and endlessly interesting processes of providing for our sustenance is the surest way to escape the culture of fast food and the values implicit in it: that food should be cheap and easy; that food is fuel and not communion. The culture of the kitchen, as embodied in those enduring traditions we call cuisines, contains more wisdom about diet and health than you are apt to find in any nutrition journal or journalism. Plus, the food you grow yourself contributes to your health long before you sit down to eat it. So you might want to think about putting down this article now and picking up a spatula or hoe.
9. Eat like an omnivore. Try to add new species, not just new foods, to your diet. The greater the diversity of species you eat, the more likely you are to cover all your nutritional bases. That of course is an argument from nutritionism, but there is a better one, one that takes a broader view of â€œhealth.â€ Biodiversity in the diet means less monoculture in the fields. What does that have to do with your health? Everything. The vast monocultures that now feed us require tremendous amounts of chemical fertilizers and pesticides to keep from collapsing. Diversifying those fields will mean fewer chemicals, healthier soils, healthier plants and animals and, in turn, healthier people. Itâ€™s all connected, which is another way of saying that your health isnâ€™t bordered by your body and that whatâ€™s good for the soil is probably good for you, too.
I like the picture of the banana. And I agree with almost all of what Pollan says. Though, I don’t know if my great-grandmother would even know what yogurt was.
In terms of eating less, my family could probably go a little in that direction, though not much. We don’t spend a lot on other things. I think our society is set up to crave things. Even ipods are set up to give us more music than we need or can listen to. The few books I buy are usually used. Also, kids do complicate things, though I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Of course, I will be going on a thirty hour hunger strike toward the end of February… then I will be eating less.
Check out http://www.themeatrix.com jp
Ned, let us know how the hunger strike goes. I’m eager to know, and certainly think it’s an admirable thing to do. I agree with what you say here about excess. It feels so much that everything is made for us to crave it. You’re better at resisting than most, including myself. Perhaps I harp on about WHAT I eat because I don’t want to face my real problem, which has much more to do with HOW MUCH I eat.
Thanks, Peters. I had seen The Meatrix a while ago, but good to see it again. They never made part III, apparently.