Tom Philpott

Use This Trick to Avoid a Boring Thanksgiving Spread

| Tue Nov. 24, 2015 1:20 PM EST
Leafy radicchio: so tantalizingly bitter.

Turkey. Gravy. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes. Green-bean casserole. The great Thanksgiving war horses all deliver gentle flavor and soft texture (save, all too often, for the turkey). To avoid unwittingly serving a vast baby-food smorgasbord, what you need is a dish with a little crunch and a blast of bitterness—yes, bitterness, the most neglected and misunderstood of the five basic tastes. What you need, in short, is a member of the chicory family, those underutilized, cool-weather vegetables like radicchio, frisée, endive, and escarole.

To avoid unwittingly serving a vast baby-food smorgasbord, what you need is a dish with a little crunch and a blast of bitterness.

In her excellent 2014 cookbook, Bitter: A Taste of the World's Most Dangerous Flavor, with Recipes, Jennifer McLagan writes that "cooking is about balancing tastes, and bitter often plays a vital role in a dish's harmony; it is crucial to the composition of a meal or a menu." Without bitterness, she adds, "we lose a way to balance sweetness. Food without bitterness lacks depth and complexity." Also, bitter is "both an appetite stimulant and a digestive—that is, it has the power to make you hungry as well as helping you digest your meal." In other words, bitterness is a necessary component to a successful feast.

Some sound advice from Boggy Creek Farm

Since the weather cooled a couple of months ago, Austin's Boggy Creek Farm has been churning out gorgeous, richly red-veined heads of leafy radicchio. I sometimes chop it up raw, toss it in a lemony dressing with plenty of chopped parsley, and serve it garnished with toasted walnuts and grated Parmesan. Such a salad would make a fine addition to the holiday table, but it might be too bold for the bitter-averse.

To draw them in, you might try the other way I've been treating the season's radicchio bounty: braised, mixed with another earthy fall staple, kale, emboldened with garlic and a little chile pepper, and mellowed with sautéed onions. If you really want to draw in the uninitiated, take the finished product (minus the lashing of vinegar at the end), and turn it into a rich gratin, a technique I highlighted last Thanksgiving.

While you're cooking, listen to this excellent episode of the BBC Food Programme focused on bitterness—why we recoil from it, why we always come back to it, and why we need more of it. Also check out this great recent New Scientist article on the nefarious plot to reduce bitterness—and vital nutrients—from our food.

Braised Radicchio and Kale
(Makes a side dish for 3-4—multiply accordingly.)

1 onion, halved lengthwise and sliced thin
3 cloves of garlic, crushed and minced
Enough extra-virgin olive oil to generously cover the bottom of a large pan
A pinch of chile flakes
1 bunch of kale, preferably Russian red or lacinato
1 head radicchio
Sea salt
Some grated hard cheese, such as Parmigiano-Reggiano, to garnish (optional)
Plenty of freshly ground black pepper
A little vinegar, such as balsamic or apple cider (fresh lemon juice would be a great substitute)

Heat the oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over low-medium heat, add the onions and a pinch of salt, and let them sauté, stirring occasionally, until they are very soft. Don't rush this step, and make sure there is sufficient oil—you'll want the onions to cook until they're fully translucent (but not caramelized), to tease out their sweetness.

While the onion is cooking, prep the kale and radicchio. Remove the stems that run down the center of the kale leaves (holding a leaf in one hand, slice down each side of the stem with a knife). By the time you're done, you'll have two piles: one of stems and one of leaves. I apply a nose-to-tale ethos to vegetables, and consider greens' stems to be highly flavorful. So bunch the stems in a pile and slice them finely, crosswise. Set aside. Now chop the greens coarsely and set them aside, too. (The point of separating out the stems is to give the stems a head start cooking, as they take a little longer.) Coarsely chop the radicchio, and add it to the chopped kale leaves.

Now the onions should be soft. Add the chopped garlic and a pinch of chile flakes to the pot and stir for a minute or so, until it has released its fragrance. Add the chopped stems and another pinch of salt, stir to mix in with the onions and garlic, and cover the pot. Let them cook for about five minutes, stirring occasionally. Now add the chopped kale and radicchio leaves, and add a good dash of water (or stock). Stir, combining the leaves with the other stuff, and turn the heat up until the liquid begins to boil. Stir again, cover, and turn the heat to low.

Allow the mixture to braise slowly until the leaves have begun to turn tender but retain a little crunch. Take the lid off and turn the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until any remaining liquid has evaporated. Add a dash of vinegar (or lemon juice), a big grind of pepper, and taste, adding salt, vinegar, or pepper to taste. Serve, garnished with a bit of grated Parmesan or other hard cheese. This dish makes a fine side to roast meats (including turkey), and you can also toss it with pasta, along with more olive oil and cheese, some toasted walnuts, and chopped parsley. Happy feasting.

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The First GMO Animal Was Just Approved. But You Probably Won’t be Eating It Anytime Soon.

| Thu Nov. 19, 2015 1:52 PM EST

Since the mid-1990s, a US company called AquaBounty Technologies—now partially owned by the synthetic biology company Intrexon—has been trying to get the Food and Drug Administration to approve a salmon variety genetically engineered to put on weight faster. On Thursday, the FDA finally did so. Theoretically, at least, US retailers can now stock the fast-growing fish, and they don't have to label it.

The only GM salmon that makes it onto US store shelves will come from eggs produced in Prince Edward Island, which will be shipped and raised in Panama, only to be shipped back to North America as filets.

But don't expect it to take over the seafood counter of your local supermarket anytime soon. We import about two-thirds of the salmon we eat, the great bulk of it grown on large farms in Chile, Canada, and Norway. But the FDA is hyper-specific about where AquaBounty's engineered salmon can be grown:

The AquAdvantage Salmon may be raised only in land-based, contained hatchery tanks in two specific facilities in Canada and Panama. The approval does not allow AquAdvantage Salmon to be bred or raised in the United States. In fact, under this approval, no other facilities or locations, in the United States or elsewhere, are authorized for breeding or raising AquAdvantage Salmon that are intended for marketing as food to U.S. consumers.

Why the caution? Standard salmon farming takes place directly in the ocean in net cages. Escapes are inevitable. In areas like the North American west coast from California to Alaska—home to some of the globe's last remaining wild salmon runs—escaped fast-growing salmon could out-compete and displace their wild peers. A highly detailed 2013 risk assessment from Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans found that, without strict containment, the AquaAdvantage super-salmon presents a "high" risk to wild populations. 

So for now, until the FDA approves other facilities, the only GM salmon that makes it onto US store shelves will come from eggs produced in one approved facility on Canada's Prince Edward Island, which will be shipped and raised into fish at another approved facility in Panama, only to be shipped back to North America as filets. That one facility in Panama is not likely to pose much competition to, say, Norway's vast salmon farms.

Meanwhile, the biotech-watchdog group the Center for Food Safety has vowed to sue the FDA to reverse the decision, claiming that "the review process by FDA was inadequate, failed to fully examine the likely impacts of the salmon’s introduction, and lacked a comprehensive analysis."

Add limited supply and a legal challenge to the fact that several regional grocery powerhouses—including Kroger, Safeway, and HEB—have pledged not to sell GM salmon, and it seems unlikely that many consumers will be savoring AquaBounty's bounty anytime soon.



Science Says: Drink Your Coffee

| Wed Nov. 18, 2015 6:00 AM EST

Coffee is one of the pleasures of existence. It's also really good for us, an ever-expanding body of research suggests. The latest: an analysis of three large population studies by a team of researchers from the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. They concluded that regular consumption of between one and five cups a day is associated with significantly lower risk of dying from cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, and brain disorders like Parkinson's. (For those who drink more than five cups per day, the association unravels.) 

Interestingly, the benefits are roughly the same for regular and decaf coffee—suggesting that something in the beloved beverage besides caffeine is the trigger. "Bioactive compounds in coffee reduce insulin resistance and systematic inflammation," the study's lead author, Ming Ding, said in a press release. The authors make clear that their results are consistent with "numerous" previous studies.

Now that coffee's health-giving value is well established, we should probably think harder about an always-vexing problem: how to ensure that the people who tend and harvest this tropical crop get their fair share of the profits generated from it.

The Meat Industry Is Killing Kids, Say Pediatricians

| Tue Nov. 17, 2015 1:55 PM EST

According to the National Pork Producers Coalition, the way the meat industry currently uses antibiotics is no problem. "Existing FDA regulations are increasingly strict and provide adequate safeguards against antibiotic resistance," the group insists on its website.

But Jerome Paulson and Theoklis Zaoutis disagree. Pediatricians who serve on the American Academy of Pediatrics' Council on Environmental Health, they have published a blunt report in the journal Pediatrics, arguing that systemic overuse of antibiotics in livestock production is a key driver of the resistance crisis, which, they show, sickens 2 million Americans every year, kills 23,000, and runs up an annual healthcare bill of $21 billion annually.

With their developing immune systems, kids are particularly vulnerable to superbugs.

With their developing immune systems, children are particularly vulnerable—salmonella alone causes more then 120,000 illnesses, 44,000 physician visits, 4600 hospitalizations, and 38 deaths annually among kids younger than five, the authors report.

They point out that US livestock producers used a staggering 32.2 million pounds of antibiotics in 2012 (the last year for which data exist), more than four times the amount used to treat people. Fully 60 percent of those farm-dispensed drugs "are considered to be important in human medicine," they add.  This annual bombardment of farm antibiotics, they show, kills susceptible bacteria and allows resistant ones to proliferate. Of the Salmonella that commonly show up in the US meat supply, 5 percent are resistant to 5 or more classes of antibiotic drugs—and 3 percent can withstand ceftriaxone, the "first-line therapy for salmonellosis in pediatrics," the authors note.

Paulson and Zaoutis then run through the various ways these superbugs move off of farms and threaten people. "Increasingly, food animals are raised in large numbers under close confinement, transported in large groups to slaughter, and processed very rapidly," they write. "These conditions can cause increased bacterial shedding and contamination of hide, carcass, and meat with fecal bacteria." Resistant bacteria can also escape the farm through farmers, farm workers, farm families, and casual visitors, who then can spread the germs throughout the communities. Then there's the vast concentrations of manure from these facilities, which "can contaminate foods when manure containing resistant organisms is applied to agricultural soils and the organisms are then present in farm runoff."

They end with a critique of what those pork producers claim are "increasingly strict" FDA rules on farm antibiotic use. Currently, the rules allow farmers to use antibiotics not only to treat disease but also "prevent" it—a loophole that, as I and others have shown, allows meat producers to maintain current practices. That practice "can harm public health, including child health, through the promotion of resistance," the authors warn. Who are you going to believe—the folks charged with keeping your kids healthy, or the ones charged with profitably churning out billions of meat animals each year?

Ben Carson Just Dropped This Pretty Insane Immigration Policy on the Nation

| Thu Nov. 12, 2015 2:57 PM EST

In a Wednesday press conference at Liberty University, a day after the GOP presidential candidates' most recent debate, co-frontrunner Ben Carson aired his views on one of the race's most contested topics: immigration. The former surgeon echoed Donald Trump on the magical powers of a heavily policed border fence and pushed back against his rival on the desirability of purging 11 million undocumented people, expressing concern for the plight of "farmers with multi-thousand acre farms" and hotel owners, who, he fretted, would have trouble finding workers to harvest crops and clean rooms.

The answer to stemming the (alleged) tide of undocumented workers coming from the south is easy, Carson suggested: US companies simply need to set up shop in Central and South America and teach them how to farm.

Then he dropped a whopper. The answer to stemming the (alleged) tide of undocumented workers coming from the south is easy, he suggested: US companies simply need to set up shop in Central and South America and teach them how to farm. His model, he said, is Cameroon, where US agribusiness firms are "helping to develop millions of acres and incredibly fertile land, growing record crops, [and] getting big profits," which, he added, "is great for them; I like business."

These companies are doing well by doing good, he argued, "building the infrastructure of a nation, creating jobs there, and teaching them the ag business so they carry on themselves, while at the same time creating friends for the United States." And if US firms repeat this feat south of the US border, "people won't feel the necessity to come here."

Whoa. First, Cameroon makes an odd model for foreign-led agriculture development. The nation has seen overall food production rise and malnutrition rates drop, but that's the work of domestic smallholder farmers growing for the local market, not multinationals. Foreign firms have played a large role in converting forest into large palm oil plantations, but those efforts have generated at least as much controversy as "friends for the United States." The Belgian-owned company Socapalm is locked in a "bitter land rights struggle" with villagers over expansion plans, The Guardian reports. And earlier this month, the government sentenced Cameroon environmental activist and NGO leader Nasako Besing to three years in prison for his role in opposing a hotly contested palm expansion/deforestation project by US firm Herakles Farm.

Then there's the vexed history of US interventions in Mexican agriculture. The Green Revolution—the effort, funded by US foundations, to bring industrial-style agriculture to the global south—started in Mexico in the 1940s. As the historian Nick Cullather shows in his fantastic 2010 book The Hungry World (which I reviewed here), the Green Revolution did transform agriculture in Mexico's north. The result: "narrowing of [domestic agriculture's] genetic base, supplanting indigenous, sustainable practices; displacing small and communal farming with commercial agribusiness; and pushing millions of peasants into urban slums or across the border."

There's strong evidence to net Mexico-to-US migration (the number of new arrivals minus the number who leave) is at or near zero.

Thus Mexico's Green Revolution experience triggered what 1950s US policymakers would call the "wetback problem"—1.5 million migrants crossing the border each year in search of gainful work, Cullather shows. And that led directly to President Eisenhower's infamous Operation Wetback, the very round-'em-up-and-purge-them scheme that Carson's opponent Trump repeatedly trumpeted (though not by name) in Tuesday's debate.

Of course, the last big wave of Mexican migration was also directly linked to US agribusiness. Implemented in 1994, NAFTA removed trade barriers and inspired Mexican policymakers to withdraw support for Mexican farmers. The result was a flood of subsidized US corn going south, a plunge in corn prices, and a tide of displaced Mexican smallholders heading north, as the Mexican analyst Ana de Ita and others have shown. US firms like Archer Daniels Midland profited handsomely.

In more recent years, though, immigration from Mexico has slowed dramatically, brought down by a variety of factors, from better corn prices in Mexico to less pull from the sluggish US economy. There's strong evidence that net Mexico-to-US migration (the number of new arrivals minus the number who leave) is at or near zero. You won't hear Carson or Trump talk about that, or the fact that current undocumented immigrants pay billions in annual taxes, both federal and state/local, in exchange for low-wage labor on farms, in restaurants, etc. On the immigration issue, Carson and his main rival to the GOP presidential throne are spewing noxious fumes about nothing in particular.

Look at This Crap Cheerios Is Trying to Pull

| Wed Nov. 11, 2015 6:00 AM EST

Protein is the macronutrient of the moment, embraced by Paleos, low-carb enthusiasts, and other dieters. Sugary breakfast cereals, meanwhile, are out—sales are in the midst of a long, slow decline. Might adding the word "protein" to a hoary old cereal brand spark a sales renaissance? That's the experiment General Mills launched last year when it debuted Cheerios Protein. "I think the protein trend is real. I think it started with [the Atkins diet] back in the day, leveled off and now is gaining steam again," a General Mills exec told The Wall Street Journal at the time.

There's no word on how the product is doing at the supermarket checkout. "We do not release individual product sales data," a company spokesman told me. But the Center for Science in the Public Interest has taken a hard look at the product's label. In a class-action lawsuit filed in a California federal court, CSPI alleges that "General Mills falsely and misleadingly markets Cheerios Protein to children and adults as a high protein, healthful alternative to Cheerios."

In fact, CSPI claims, Cheerios Protein offers just marginally more protein per equivalent serving than the old product—plus, it claims, a startling 17 times more sugar. Insult to injury, General Mills charges a premium for the product: "about 70 cents more per box at stores like Walmart, Giant Foods, and Safeway," CSPI claims in a press release. The lawsuit demands damages for the plaintiffs (aggrieved Cheerios Protein buyers) and an "injunction to stop General Mills’s false and misleading marketing practices with regard to Cheerios Protein."

"We don't normally respond to these publicity-seeking lawsuits from CSPI—but we do reject their comparison," a General Mills spokesman wrote in an email. He added:

Original Cheerios does contain 3 grams of protein per serving—and it’s clearly a great cereal choice. Cheerios Protein contains 7 grams of protein per serving – and it does qualify as a good source of high-quality protein under the FDA standard.

So, who's right? Turns out, General Mills is playing games with serving sizes on its labels.

Here's the regular Cheerios label:

Note that a 28 gram serving delivers 3 grams of protein and 1 gram of sugar.

Now check out the Cheerios Protein label:

Now, we're talking about a much bigger serving size: 55 grams. This new-and-improved Cheerios iteration delivers 7 grams of protein and 17 grams of sugar at this enlarged serving size.

To compare the two, I adjusted the original Cheerios numbers to reflect a 55 gram serving. Just for fun, I added another sought-after ingredient to the mix: dietary fiber. The results are in the chart at the top.

To goose the protein content, General Mills opted to add bite-sized "clusters" made up (see label above) of oats, soy protein, and lentils.

So it's true that the protein-enhanced version delivers marginally more protein—7 grams vs. 5.9 grams per 55 gram serving. That's an 18.6 percent difference. That may sound like a lot, but we're talking about just 1.1 grams. According to Institute of Medicine, adult men need 56 grams of protein per day, and adult women require 46 grams. The extra bit provided by Cheerios Protein doesn't move the needle much.

On the sugar front, the Cheerios Protein delivers about eight times more, my label comparison suggests. That's less than the 17-fold sugar jump alluded to in the CSPI lawsuit, but still a hell of a lot more sugar. For perspective, 17 grams of sugar is equal to about 4 teaspoons—about a third of the Food and Drug Administration's recommended maximum intake. Anyone who drinks a single can of soda (about 10 teaspoons of sugar) after a bowl of Cheerios Protein has instantly leapt above the FDA's threshold.

So how did this happen? How did a major food conglomerate set out to infuse a fading legacy product with one trendy nutrient, and instead lace it with a decidedly non-trendy one like sugar? I imagine it was all about trying to keep the new product palatable despite adding stuff not normally associated with cereal.

To goose the protein content, General Mills opted to add bite-sized "clusters" made up (see label above) of oats, soy protein, and lentils. I'm going to venture a guess that soy protein doesn't taste very good on its own; and its hard to imagine what lentils taste like without salt and savory spices. Perhaps all the added sugar—CSPI notes that Cheerios Protein brings it in no fewer than eight forms, which you can confirm in the label above—is there to overwhelm those legume flavors in this grain-based cereal.

Reporting on a taste test he organized not long after Cheerios Protein's 2014 launch, Huffington Post's Joe Satran wrote that:

Mercifully, our taste testers did not report the cereal tasting like dal. Instead, they found Cheerios Protein to be, broadly, a lot like regular Cheerios. Many noted that the texture was a little more "robust" and firm than traditional Cheerios, but no one reported off flavors. It seemed like they were sweetened and flavored a little more aggressively than normal Cheerios, perhaps to mask the taste of the clusters.

Whatever the thinking behind Cheerios Protein, consumers should know they're getting just a "smidgen more protein"—to quote the CSPI lawsuit—and dramatically more sugar, when they pay up for the new product.

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California Could Be the Next Saudi Arabia

| Mon Nov. 9, 2015 4:44 PM EST
California's Imperial Valley: a desert in bloom.

In the early 1980s, Saudi Arabia embarked upon a bold project: It began to transform large swaths of desert landscape into wheat farms.

Now, "desert agriculture" isn't quite the oxymoron it might sound like. These arid zones offer ample sunlight and cool nights, and harbor few crop-chomping insects, fungal diseases, or weed species. As long as you can strategically add water and fertilizer, you'll generate bin-busting crops. And that's exactly what Saudi Arabia did. As this Bloomberg News piece shows, the oil-producing behemoth grew so much wheat for about two decades that "its exports could feed Kuwait, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Bahrain, Oman, and Yemen."

To irrigate its wheat-growing binge, Saudi Arabia tapped aquifers that "haven't been filled since the last Ice Age."

But starting in the mid-2000s, Saudi wheat production began to taper off. Soon after, it plunged. This year and from now on, the country will produce virtually no wheat, and instead rely on global markets for the staple grain. What happened?

In short, to irrigate its wheat-growing binge, the nation tapped aquifers that "haven't been filled since the last Ice Age," Bloomberg reports. And in doing so, it essentially drained them dry in the span of two decades.

In an April 2015 piece, the Center for Investigative Reporting's Nathan Halverson brought more details. He writes that the first sign of Saudi agriculture's water crisis began in the early 2000s,when long-established desert springs—ones that had "bubbled up for thousands of years from a massive aquifer system that lay underneath Saudi Arabia"—began to dry up. It had been "one of the world's largest underground systems, holding as much groundwater as Lake Erie." Here's Halverson:

In the historic town of Tayma, which was built atop a desert oasis mentioned several times in the Old Testament, researchers in 2011 found "most wells exsiccated." That's academic speak for "bone dry." The once-verdant Tayma oasis that had sustained human life for millennia—archaeologists have found stone tablets there dating back 2,500 years—was drained in one generation.

In the meantime, farmers' wells, too, began to go dry, and they had to drill them ever-deeper to keep the water flowing. By 2012, fully four-fifths of the ancient aquifer had vanished; and the Saudi government had begun to reconsider its make-the-desert-bloom ambitions, which have now turned to dust.

It's impossible to know when California's aquifers will go dry, because no one has invested in the research required to gauge just how much water is left.

Here in the United States, we've followed a similar strategy for fruit, vegetable, and nut production, concentrating it in arid regions of California, irrigated by diverting river water over great distances, and, like the Saudis, tapping massive ancient aquifers. But climate change means less snow to feed rivers and thus to water farms—and more reliance on those underwater reserves. In California's vast Central Valley, a major site of US food production, fully half of wells are at or below historic lows, according to the US Geological Survey. It's impossible to know when the region's aquifers will go dry, because no one has invested in the research required to gauge just how much water is left. But the trend is clear. In large swaths of the region, the land is sinking at rates up to 11 inches per year as underground water vanishes, USGS reports. The raiding of the region's water reserve is part of a decades-long trend, USGS makes clear, made worse, but not caused, by the current drought.

Two other California regions are significant suppliers to the national food market: the Salinas Valley, known as the "salad bowl of the world"; and the Imperial Valley, which specializes in fresh winter produce. They, too, face severe long-term water trouble.

Unlike their Saudi peers, US policymakers don't have the luxury of waiting until the water runs out and then simply shifting to a reliance on imports—our population is more than ten times larger. One idea for what to do instead: Enact policies that boost vegetable production in other, more water-rich regions, including the Midwest and South—a process I have dubbed de-Californiacation. To bolster themselves, they may want to ponder what's scribbled on the ruins of a vanished desert kingdom, as imagined by the Romantic poet Shelley: "My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings/Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"

Prefer Your Meat Drug-Free? You're the "Fringe 1 Percent"

| Wed Nov. 4, 2015 6:00 AM EST
Elanco chief Jeff Simmons addressses the Atlantic Food Summitt, brandishing a tiny table.

Elanco, the animal-health division of the pharma giant Eli Lilly, makes one of the world's most controversial growth-promoting chemicals for meat production: ractopamine, marketed as Optaflexx for cattle, Paylean for pigs, and Topmax for turkeys.

The campaign insists that organic methods, which forbid growth-boosting chemicals for animals, aren't going to cut it when it comes to fixing hunger.

A member of the class of medicines known as beta-agonists, which are also given to asthmatic people to help relax their airway muscles, ractopamine makes animals rapidly put on lean weight—but it also mimics stress hormones and makes their hearts beat faster. Studies suggest that it makes livestock more vulnerable to heat. Ractopamine is banned in the European Union, China, and more than 100 other countries, and it faces mounting criticism here in the United States.

To clean up his company's image, Elanco's president, Jeff Simmons, has launched a "counteroffensive,"  reports Bloomberg Businessweek reporter Andrew Martin. In addition to his responsibilities operating a $2.3 billion-dollar global animal-drug business, Simmons runs an initiative called ENOUGH Movement, which calls itself a "global community working together to ensure everyone has access to nutritious, affordable food—today and in the coming decades." Combating global hunger is one of ENOUGH'S major themes. Simmons uses a "grainy photo of [himself] carrying a small African child on his back" as his Twitter avatar, Martin reports.

Elanco served as the primary underwriter of The Atlantic magazine's 2015 Food Summit, held last week in Washington, D.C. Simmons delivered a sponsored presentation at the event. In it, he complained that a group he labeled the "fringe 1 percent," agitating for increased regulation on meat producers, is driving the national debate around food. Simmons also regaled the crowd with ENOUGH's core messages: The world needs to produce 60 percent more meat, eggs, and dairy by 2050; doing so will require "innovative farming techniques that increase efficiency;" and organic methods—which forbid growth-boosting chemicals for animalsaren't going to cut it. Instead, ENOUGH insists, "we must leverage the innovations and technological advances that will allow us to produce more food without using more resources."

One can see why an exec operating in the meat industry might be feeling defensive. Industrial-scale meat production has been linked to the rise of antibiotic resistance in human medicine (which claims at least 700,000 lives per year globally); ecological ruin; increased risk of cancer; and the hollowing out of communities where it alights. Insult to injury, US consumers have been cutting back on meat consumption overall, and turning increasingly to drug-free, pasture-raised product.

Pigs treated with ractopamine "suffered from hyperactivity, trembling, broken limbs, inability to walk, and death," studies found.

And Simmons has rushed into the fray. In short, Martin shows, Simmons is taking a page from the agrichemical/GMO industry playbook: present your industry as crucial to "feeding the world" as global population grows to 9 billion by 2050, and paint your critics as out-of-touch elitists who are indifferent to hunger and poverty.

"Simmons doesn't directly pitch Elanco products during his speeches on hunger, saying he has a higher purpose: alleviating world hunger and changing a conversation that's been hijacked by a vocal fringe of activists," Businessweek's Martin writes. "If the arguments sound familiar, it's because Monsanto and other proponents of genetically modified foods made similar claims."

One key part of the strategy to avoid discussion of existing products, and point instead to future innovation. Generally speaking, Monsanto execs prefer to talk about still-in-development crops rather than current offerings, which are riddled by weeds and insects that have evolved to resist them. Likewise, Simmons doesn't say much on the stump about the company's best-known product, ractopamine.

A 2014 study from Texas Tech and Kansas State researchers found that it nearly doubled the mortality rate of cows fed on it in the weeks before slaughter. As for pigs, the drug has "triggered more adverse reports in pigs than any other animal drug on the market," a 2012 investigation by journalist Helena Bottemiller found. "Pigs suffered from hyperactivity, trembling, broken limbs, inability to walk, and death, according to FDA reports released under a Freedom of Information Act request."

Rather than ponder such troubles, Simmons urges us to imagine a future where meat is abundant and the scourge of malnutrition has been defeated, all driven by "innovation" and "science." Whether or not that vision comes to pass, this much seems clear: We're on the verge of a loud campaign by the meat industry, particularly its pharma sector, to portray its critics as a privileged fringe, untroubled by global hunger.

Big-Time Food Writer Mark Bittman Left the New York Times to...Sell Vegan Food Kits?!

| Mon Nov. 2, 2015 5:51 PM EST
Mark Bittman.

Back in September, Mark Bittman left his perch as a New York Times op-ed columnist and food writer, declaring he would "take a central role in a year-old food company, to do what I've been writing about these many years: to make it easier for people to eat more plants." Ever since, the fooderatti have wondered precisely what that company would be. Monday, Bittman revealed that he'd signed on as "chief innovation officer" at Purple Carrot, one of the growing number of companies that deliver recipes and pre-measured ingredients to consumers' doors.

Purple Carrot's twist: It's 100 percent vegan. Bittman, author of VB6: Eat Vegan Before 6:00 pm to Lose Weight & Restore Your Health for Good, has long extolled the health and environmental virtues of shifting to a more plant-based diet.

Known collectively as the "meal kit" industry, Purple Carrot and its non-vegan rivals Blue Apron and HelloFresh are drawing serious venture capital cash. The most established of them, Blue Apron, is valued at $2 billion—making it what is known in venture capital circles as a "unicorn," or a young, privately held company worth in excess of $1 billion based on the terms of venture investments.

Purple Carrot, for its part, has "raised $1 million from angel investors and is currently closing out a $3 million seed round," the company stated in a press release. It launched a year ago in Boston, just expanded to the West Coast (Bittman himself is based in the Bay Area), and now offers its services in "more than 70 percent of the country," the press release states.

Its pricing—$68 to feed two people three times per week, or $74 to feed a family of four twice—aims Purple Carrot's services squarely at a prosperous market. "I think it’s a shame that not everyone will be able to afford it, but I think those who can afford it will find it worthwhile,” Bittman told Civil Eats' Twilight Greenaway.

As a confirmed home cook, I'm mystified by the allure of delivered meal kits, for many of the reasons food writer Corby Kummer lays out here. That doesn't mean they don't hold a broader appeal for those with the means to afford them. The industry consulting firm Technomic projects that meal kits could grow a $3 billion to $5 billion industry within a decade, Inc reports. I plan to look into them more.

Here's A Diet That Actually Works, and Has the Science to Prove It

| Mon Nov. 2, 2015 5:00 AM EST
Fat-free fro yo: maybe not the way forward.

Low-fat dietary dogma—and, by extension, the plethora of processed junk the food industry conjured up to indulge it—has passed its sell-by date. But cutting down on sugary foods can trigger rapid health improvements.

Those are the messages of two studies released last week. For the fat one, a team of Harvard researchers scoured databases looking for randomized, controlled trials—the gold standard of dietary research—comparing the weight-loss effects of low-fat diets to other regimens like low-carb. They found 53 studies that met their criteria for rigor.

Lustig is a proponent of the idea that all calories aren't created equal—specifically, that added sugars do more harm than fats, starches, and complex carbohydrates.

The result, published in the British journal The Lancet Diabetes & Endocrinology: low-carbohydrate diets "led to significantly greater weight loss" than did low-fat ones. People assigned low-fat diets tended to lose a small amount of weight compared to no-change-in-diet control groups, but cutting carbs delivered better results than reducing dietary fat. "The science does not support low-fat diets as the optimal long-term weight loss strategy," lead author Deirdre Tobias of Brigham and Women's Hospital and Harvard Medical School said in a press release.

The study marks the latest indication that your fat-free fro-yo habit is not likely doing you any favors by cutting your fat intake. But its sugary jolt may be doing more harm than you already thought. That's the suggestion of another new study, published in the journal Obesity, by a team led by longtime sugar critic Robert Lustig, a pediatric endocrinologist in at the University of California at San Francisco.

Lustig is a proponent of the idea that all calories aren't created equal—specifically, that added sugars (in sodas, processed foods, etc.) do more harm than calorie-equivalent amounts of fats, starches, and complex carbohydrates. To test this theory, Lustig and his colleagues identified 43 kids diagnosed with obesity and metabolic syndrome—defined as a cluster of conditions associated with the risk cardiovascular disease and type 2 diabetes—and tweaked their diets.

For 10 days, the kids ate catered meals with caloric amounts equivalent to their previous diets but with all foods with added sugars removed, replaced with starches. Their overall sugar intake went from 28 percent to 10 percent (representing naturally sweet foods like fruit). Lustig summarized the results in an op-ed:

Diastolic blood pressure decreased by five points. Blood fat levels dropped precipitously. Fasting glucose decreased by five points, glucose tolerance improved markedly, insulin levels fell by 50%. In other words we reversed their metabolic disease in just 10 days, even while eating processed food, by just removing the added sugar and substituting starch, and without changing calories or weight. Can you imagine how much healthier they would have been if we hadn't given them the starch?

It's important to note that the results are suggestive, not conclusive. Unlike the studies conglomerated in the low-fat paper, Lustig's project did not include a control group.

But both the Harvard study and Lustig's reinforce an emerging consensus that fat is not necessarily a dietary devil, while quaffing sugar at typical US levels might just be.