I’ve posted versions of this piece each year at about this time. But maple sugaring season is so awesome it deserves a repeat.

Maple sugaring, 19th century style

Fake maple syrup bums me out. And not only because it rarely contains real maple. (Most brands are a mix of high-fructose corn syrup, preservatives and artificial flavors.) It’s because maple syrup is perfect just as it is. Naturally sweet, it also retains trace vitamins and minerals, even antioxidants. It’s still sugar, so let’s not go crazy. But for pancakes or baking, or topping oatmeal or yogurt, there’s no equal.

Great lore, too: Legend has it that a Native American woman brewed up the first batch accidentally. Her husband, heading off to hunt one morning, yanked his tomahawk from the tree where he’d thrown it the night before. Sap ran from the cut and into a container at the base of the tree. The woman found the liquid, thought it was water, cooked in it and got a sweet surprise.

Over time the inevitable happened, and someone got the bright idea to make an imitation of the real thing. Real syrup’s high cost and limited availability no doubt influenced the shift, and early fake versions did contain a decent amount of actual maple. But, really, messing with maple syrup is just plain wrong.

I let my daughter taste the imposter in a restaurant once, because I wanted her to understand the difference, and thankfully she wrinkled her nose and went for the good stuff. (Food nerd alert: Yes, I bring my own maple syrup if we’re going out for breakfast. It’s just what I do.)

But even kids who haven’t grown up with real maple syrup can learn to appreciate it. And one way I guarantee you’ll get their interest is at a maple sugaring event.

Sap on tap

We’re fortunate in western New York to have Genesee Country Village & Museum, a living-history museum that also has a nature center. (And terrific summer camps.) So we get syrup with a side of history.

But you can find maple events throughout northeast North America. And now is the time — New York’s Maple Weekends are March 17-18 and 24-25, and most other states and provinces wrap up by late March, too. If you live elsewhere, but your region has maple trees and cooperative weather, ask around. You’ll likely be able to find maple events near you.  

Tools of the trade

But the best part is the sugaring camp set up to show how early settlers collected, transported and cooked down the sap — techniques that haven’t changed a whole lot in the last few centuries. The equipment is better, operations are bigger, but the end result is pretty much the same. So the girls get a small-scale, up-close view of sap boiled down to syrup, boiled further still to maple cream, and further still to maple sugar. Forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. No wonder real maple syrup is expensive. But so worth it.

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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We have a living-history museum nearby. One of those places with relocated old buildings and re-enactors who take you right back to the 19th century. During one visit, I was in the kitchen of a home churning butter with my daughter and chatting with another visitor, telling her we’d seen a pig-slaughtering pen being built at the village’s teaching farm. The museum, which used to sell its pigs every winter, had decided instead to start butchering them on-site.

I mentioned how, initially, I’d blanched at the idea of a killing pen, imagining a hand-to-hoof struggle and log walls awash in blood. But then the farm interpreter explained the process: how the pen lets individual pigs get comfortable in a small space and lets handlers control the pig’s diet in its final days, until a farmer goes in and quickly kills the pig.

As a vegetarian, I still found the process unsettling, but I could appreciate that it was humane, and that it had its place in teaching about 19th century agriculture. And that’s what I told the woman next to me at the butter churn.

At this point, the interpreter in the kitchen jumped in, telling me that people in the 19th century didn’t have the “luxury” of being vegetarian, and that she regularly has to explain to school groups that early Americans didn’t have the choices we have today. “Kids come through and they say, ‘You shouldn’t eat meat. It’s mean to the animals,’ ” she said. “I tell them, ‘Well, they had to eat animals or their kids would starve.’ ”

Yes, that’s true, I told her, but there’s also a big difference between how early Americans raised (or hunted) and killed their animals, and how most animals are slaughtered today. Perhaps she could mention that from now on as well?

“Oh no,” she said, “you can’t tell that to a kid.”

Hmmm.

We explain it to our vegetarian 8-year-old, and have for years. Surely someone can explain it to an omnivorous 6th grader. Many of these kids watch violent movies. They play violent video games. They engage in mock battle. They know where meat comes from. So tell me again: Why can’t they handle the truth about how most animals are killed for food?

In an era where kids are inundated with factory-farming propaganda from powerful groups like the dairy industry in schools and agribusiness lobbies at state fairs, our best defense is education. If we want to raise food-literate children, if we want them to think critically, to challenge the status quo — to make good choices when we can’t choose for them — we have a responsibility to tell the truth so others don’t co-opt them with fiction.

And how do we do that? For starters, by exposing kids to the kinds of farms and conditions we want to support. Take them to local sustainable farms and involve them in conversations with farmers at local markets. Show them where your meat, milk and eggs come from. Then keep talking. Since Tess was tiny, we’ve talked about the “happy cows” and “happy chickens” that provide our local milk and eggs. The “happy” thing seems trite, I know (really, how do we know they’re happy?), but it’s an effective shorthand for explaining that we get our food from animals who live outside and eat what they’re meant to eat (i.e., grass and bugs).

Of course this works pretty well with milk and eggs. Meat is trickier (since, um, the happiness ends), but even then I think kids are able to appreciate the difference between an animal that lived a good life and was killed humanely, and one that wasn’t. When I wrote about this topic previously, a reader told how she teaches her young son where meat comes from: “I make sure my son knows what animal he’s eating every time I serve meat. (I think, if you do eat meat, serving it on the bone goes a long ways towards bringing home the idea that you’re eating an animal as well.) … We’re teaching them compassion as well as food literacy.”

Picture books can be surprising allies. Some, like Ruby Roth’s “That’s Why We Don’t Eat Animals,” address the issue directly. Roth advocates for vegetarianism (and, I think, does so without judgment), but the book’s strength is how it presents factory farming in an age-appropriate way. Even omnivorous kids get a takeaway.

Then there are books where agriculture themes are secondary, but still effective. One example: In “Louise, the Adventures of a Chicken,” by Kate DiCamillo and Harry Bliss, Louise leaves her farm for adventures abroad. At one point she’s captured and held in a cage with other chickens. She goes all Norma Rae and they break free with a rally cry: “Chickens do not belong in cages. Chickens must roam free.” To this day, it’s a favorite refrain in our house.

And for older kids? Resources abound:

“My Friends at the Farm,” a video from Farm Sanctuary, is billed as the first video “to introduce the realities of factory farming to children as young as 8 years old in an age-appropriate way.” I haven’t seen it yet, but I’ll be getting a copy soon.

Michael Pollan has a young readers edition of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma.” (Click here for an excellent review from then 13-year-old Orren Fox.) And Eric Schlosser has a kids’ version of “Fast Food Nation” called “Chew on This.”

The groundbreaking movie Food Inc. (which I reviewed here) is generally recommended for teens and older, but I know people who’ve shown it to kids as young as 6. Even if your kids are pretty ag savvy, I think it’s a little wonky for that age, and we still haven’t shown it to Tess (though it’s just a matter of time). But only you know whether it’s right for your family. For help deciding, check out these  kid-centric reviews from Common Sense Media and Parent Previews. For high school students, there’s a companion discussion guide from the Center for Ecoliteracy.

In 2010, then 11-year-old Birke Baehr generated epic buzz with this 5-minute TEDx talk, in which he dissects everything that’s wrong with our food system, including factory farming.

“The Meatrix Trilogy” cartoons borrow from “The Matrix” to take on factory-farmed meat, eggs and dairy, and the fast-food industry. It’s animation with some serious ammunition. The Meatrix Interactive 360 is a companion graphic that lets kids roll over images and click for details. The site also includes presentation kits, handouts and other resources for learning more.

Then there’s the now-infamous Chipotle video. When it aired during the Grammys two weeks ago, I loved its back-to-basics farming message. But I questioned (on Spoonfed’s Facebook page) whether the chain should be so self-congratulatory when it’s selectively sustainable. Readers helped me see the bigger picture (thanks, guys), and indeed the commercial has sparked a lot of discussion about factory farming. And that’s a good thing. It’s also entirely kid-friendly. So here you go:

What do you think? How much should we tell children about the dicier side of the food chain? What kinds of conversations have you had with your kids? Any other resources to share?

This post, inspired by another piece I wrote two years ago, is part of Occupy Our Food Supply, a global day of action (today) where advocates on the ground and online are rallying to raise awareness of how industrial agribusiness has co-opted our food system. I’m a twitter abstainer (for now), but if you’re inclined to tweet this post (and thanks if you do), the event’s hashtags are: #F27 and #occupyourfoodsupply.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

 This post is linked into Fight Back Fridays.

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It’s been nuts in my house since late summer. That’s when my husband and I decided to act on our long-nagging desire to shake things up by paring things down. Things, literally, as in possessions. (It’s been non-stop Craigslisting, Freecycling and donating around here.) But also things in the greater cosmic sense: stress, expenses, responsibilities.

We’re trading our big old house for a loft in a former warehouse downtown. My husband just started a new job close to the new place. We’re ditching the second car. More being. Less doing. That’s the idea, anyway.

We have several months yet until we move, and plenty more to do. So when Tess wanted an ice-skating party for her 8th birthday, it was a huge relief. We’ve run the gamut on parties — from small home celebrations to a “Little House”-themed bash in a log cabin — but this year, the simpler, the better.

So we rented our city’s outdoor rink. Everyone brought their families. And we celebrated our Winter Solstice girl on a clear, gorgeous late December day. No gifts, no favors, no elaborate party fare. (And I’ve been known to put the “labor” in “elaborate.”) We collected donations for the city’s animal shelter. I made snowflake gingerbread cookies (on sticks! using a variation on this recipe). We had clementines and water and hot cocoa. And everyone had all kinds of fun.

Hot cocoa story: We ordered from our local grocer. They make it on-site, then pour it into those nifty to-go boxes with spouts, the ones that stay hot for a few hours. And because I asked (and paid a few extra bucks), they were happy to sub local organic milk for the milk they usually use. Some people see that as fussy. I see it as simple. Asked. Accepted. Who ever said this stuff has to be stressful? (It doesn’t.) 

On that same note: Before she settled on ice skating, Tess lobbied for a party at a local indoor play center. And so I called and had one of those conversations I often have. Me: “We’d like to bring our own food, please.” Play center staffer: “Do you have a concern about allergies?” Me: “No, we just don’t eat the kind of food you serve.” Staffer: “Outside food is against our policy (followed by an explanation that blamed a non-existent state law).”

Well, that led to a phone call with the owner, and wouldn’t you know it? Easy-peasy. After I explained that we don’t eat the highly processed junk they typically serve (OK, not in those exact words), he offered to get whatever food we wanted and prepare it in their kitchen. I was all set to order fruit and veggie trays when Tess changed her mind. But I like knowing that’s an option for the future.

BTW, all this rightsizing and rethinking is why it’s been so quiet on Spoonfed the last several months. But that’s not part of the simplification. Quite the opposite. I’m hoping these changes free up even more time for blogging and the thinky pieces I like so much. In the meantime, I’ll try to keep things lively over on Facebook (where I get my micro-blogging fix). And look for a new post next month that will help get Spoonfed back on track.

Happy 2012, all.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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A certainty.
Like death and taxes.

Girl Scout cookie season starts early where I live. No sooner had school begun than it was time to prep legions of little girls to peddle cookies with ingredients that no kid should be eating, much less selling. (And just in time for Halloween, too. Yay.) Your council might not start until January or later, but that means there’s still time to rethink the cookies (whether you’re buying or selling). I covered the topic at length (exhaustively?) last season, so rather than repeat myself, I’ll recap below.

I feel the same way now that I did then:  I am not anti-Girl Scouts. I am not anti-cookie. I don’t want to deprive kids of their childhoods. But I am against inferior ingredients. And hypocritical organizations. And practices that force children to sell unhealthful products under the guise of “opportunity” and “tradition.”

And I’m not alone. Last season’s posts generated wide-ranging discussions (here and on Fooducate, which reprinted the first post), with thoughtful insights from Girl Scout supporters, parents and troop leaders, many of whom think it’s time to improve the cookies or find new fundraisers altogether.

It’s good news that the Girl Scouts of the USA is finally addressing concerns about palm oil — a troubling ingredient because its production destroys rainforests and wildlife. And it’s great news that two tenacious Girl Scouts guilted the organization into it. Yet I’m not convinced the announcement is all that significant. “Sustainable” palm oil is questionable, and “pledges” aren’t concrete, so it’s hard to know whether this is anything more than greenwashing. 

But even if it’s legit, even if the Girl Scouts’ pledge leads to reducing or even ditching palm oil in the cookies, what about the rest of the ingredients (here and here)?  That’s the change we really need to see.

(And while we’re at it: Maybe Coca-Cola and Exxon Mobil aren’t the best sponsors for the national Girl Scouts convention, this week in Houston. Just a thought.)

Knock-knock, buy a box?

Those who read last year’s posts might recall that this all began because I pondered whether to let my daughter join a troop even if we had no plans to sell the cookies. Turns out that hasn’t been an issue.  Tess has shown zero interest in Scouts, and we already do lots of fun, enriching things through school and on our own. We’ve also had no trouble not buying the cookies, since no one close to us sells them. I did see a door-to-door Girl Scout this year — the first time in forever. But she skipped my house! I’m guessing it was the “For Sale” sign in the front yard. That, or a neighbor told her not to waste her time knocking on our door. Hmmm.

Now, the recap:

Let’s talk Girl Scout cookies (January 7, 2011)
The first post, in which I ask people to look objectively at the cookies, their ingredients and the mixed messages surrounding the sales. And did you know?  While about 70% of cookie proceeds go to the local council, individual girls and troops keep only 10% to 20% of the price of each box. (The comments on this post are illuminating: on Spoonfed, on Fooducate and on Fooducate’s Facebook page.) An excerpt from the post:

“Oh, there’s no way I’d let her sell them. Our food habits are far from perfect (whatever that means). But I’d feel like a hypocrite. Or a drug dealer. Go on, tell me I’m overreacting. But, seriously, I couldn’t in good conscience let my daughter sell something I believe to be patently unhealthy. (Just as I’m not a fan of donating Girl Scout cookies to food pantries.) And not that I’ve personally tasted one lately, but people tell me the cookies aren’t even that good. Maybe that’s because of ingredient changes. Or maybe because when you eat more real food, you lose your taste for crap. But, no matter. No selling.”

It’s not just a cookie (February 19, 2011)
The follow-up, in which I discuss reaction to the first post (for and against) and tackle the moderation myth. An excerpt:

“People too often confuse activism like this for an anti-treats or anti-fun or other extreme agenda. But this isn’t about never eating sweets or taking away people’s cookies or letting food control your life. And this isn’t just about Girl Scout cookies. This is about holding corporations accountable for ingredients that have no business in our food supply.”

No fooling: Girl Scouts are green and the FDA is making us blue (April 1, 2011)
A what-the-what? about the Scouts’ “Go Green” initiatives. Includes a link to a terrific letter by blogger and Girl Scout leader Jennifer McNichols. An excerpt from Jennifer’s letter:

“To me, Girl Scouts of the USA’s stance sends a frightening message to girls, and that message is the one they already receive on every corporate-sponsored kids’ cartoon and in free teaching materials provided by fast food chains: That ‘making a difference’ is all about thinking small, and keeping it that way, and making the easy choices while putting off the hard ones until it’s too late. Picking up litter and encouraging recycling but never asking where all this waste is coming from and what can be done about it. Getting fresh air and exercise but never examining the food we eat or where it comes from. Running ‘Save the Rainforests’ educational campaigns while selling cookies that contribute to their destruction. You — we — were supposed to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.”

Amen then and amen now.

There is a bright spot amid the latest cookie onslaught: The Girl Scouts recently announced a new locavore badge that encourages girls to explore local food sourcing and cooking. Gotta love that.

Still, I’ll give the last word to a commenter on this story, who suggested that the locavore badge requirements are missing a step: “Bake your own damn cookies.”  

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Tess just spent a week playing a 19th century farm girl. She’s done camps at this living-history museum every summer since she was 4. (You haven’t seen cute until you’ve seen 4-year-olds dressed like Laura Ingalls.) But the previous camps were a little of this, a little of that, a sampler of life in the 1800s.

Now that she’s 7, Tess got to pick a themed camp, and 19th Century Farm Kids it was, held at the Pioneer Farmstead at Genesee Country Village & Museum, about 30 minutes from where we live in western New York.

Over the week, the kids learned about the animals (sheep, oxen, ducks, geese, chickens, turkeys, cows and pigs), collected eggs and dabbled in cheesemaking. They pulled purslane for salads. And soaked flax to extract the fibers for linen-making. They even picked and tasted hops. (There’s a working 19th century brewery on-site.)

There was barn-cleaning and wood-stacking, work followed by the fun of 19th century games. They shelled corn and sewed corn bags (like bean bags), then made them again after chipmunks raided the barn.

Every day they recorded their experiences in journals, using fountain pens and ink.

I’ve written about GCVM before, in posts on maple sugaring and teaching kids about industrial meat production. The village offers immersion-style history, with costumed role-players sharing the mundane yet fascinating rhythms of early American life. That of course includes the routines and rituals of food and farming. And for kids, especially, it’s a great lesson in agriculture at its most basic. Sure, the kids immerse for only a few hours a day, and they go home in air-conditioned cars to houses with refrigerators and snacks in bags, but it all sinks in, you know?

It’s the reason (along with the “Little House” picture books) that Tess wanted a pioneer party for her 5th birthday, which we  managed to pull off by renting a 1938 log cabin (itself a replica of a 1721 fort) in a nearby park. How authentic? No heat. Only a fireplace. In December. Looking back, it seems a little nuts. But there was sledding and butter-making and running around in bonnets and straw hats. And everyone went home with maple candy and an appreciation for central heat. (Oh: Renting a cabin with no heat in December? Cheap.)

This summer, when we visited Plimoth Plantation in Plymouth, Mass., we found fantastic exhibits and stories about how the Wampanoag and the colonists ate seasonally, in sync with nature. And these museums are everywhere. Check out the Association for Living History, Farm and Agricultural Museums, with members throughout the U.S. and Canada.

My only complaint about farm camp?  Though kids brought their own snacks and lunches (stored in cloth-covered baskets), the camp supplied drinks. Two choices: Water and “lemonade.”  As in: Country Time. As in: artificial colors and other chemical additives that no way, no how existed in the 1800s. (Though, OK, some other poisonous food colorings did.) And, oh, by the way, no actual lemon. Next time, I’d like to see the kids make their own real lemonade. Just like Mrs. Oleson.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays and Fight Back Fridays.

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PBS is showing the movie “Food Inc.” tonight. So I’m pulling out a review I wrote when the movie debuted. Have you seen the film? Planning to watch tonight? Maybe recording it to watch later with your kids? (See more about kid viewing below.)

You’ll never look at food the same way again. I promise. So watch (check your local listings here), then come tell me what you thought.

Food fight

Real food. Whether we grow it or just eat it, here’s my definition: Something that grows in the ground or grazes on it, then is harvested with care and left in as natural a state as possible until it’s consumed. By us. Hopefully with appreciation for where it came from.

I think about this subject a lot. Like all the time, obsessively. And I talk about it, too, which gets mixed reactions. Some friends share my passion. Others wish I would shut up already. The teachers at my daughter’s preschool graciously indulged our practice of supplying our own snacks every day. But the counselors at her summer camp gave blank stares when I suggested that blue ice pops were not real food.

So it’s no surprise that my husband and I found ourselves at a screening of the documentary “Food Inc.,” which showed at the Little Theatre in May as part of the Rochester High Falls International Film Festival. The movie, which has just been released nationwide, argues for a simpler, more transparent and democratic food system — instead of the overly mechanized and subsidized, oligarchic system that has taken its toll on our collective health and the health of the planet.

Thanks to industrialized agriculture, “the way we eat has changed more in the last 50 years than in the previous 10,000,” the food writer Michael Pollan says in the film.

Predictably, there are dark themes: the death of a 2-year-old boy who ate an E. coli-tainted hamburger; farmers intimidated into debt and out of business; chickens bred for breasts so large that the birds can’t stand; a family forced to choose cheap fast food over fresh produce because otherwise they couldn’t afford the father’s (diabetes-related) medicine; and a “hamburger filler” factory where animal parts are sanitized with ammonia and smooshed like fruit roll-ups.

But as people in the audience covered their eyes and cringed, I wanted to shout out for everyone to sit up, look straight ahead and face down the food on their plates. Then, maybe, hopefully, take a deep breath and next time make a different choice.

I’ve been encouraged by the growth of the local-foods movement in western New York, by the rise of so many new farmers’ markets and CSAs (community-supported farms). And by the new crop of idealistic — yet in no way naïve — farmers and producers who’ve embraced our agrarian roots and brought us closer again to food the way it was meant to be eaten.

But if enough of us vote with our forks, even Big Food will play along. With momentum and some loud voices, food policy could shift away from subsidies for monoculture crops like corn and soybeans and toward the development of diverse, sustainable agriculture, making healthy food the norm, no matter your address or paycheck.

Until then? Plant a garden or at least some tomatoes, visit a market, join a CSA, buy pastured meat and dairy, make some jam. And when it hits local theaters, see “Food Inc.” Popcorn optional.

For a little extra inspiration, check out this “Food Inc.” discussion guide from the Center for Ecoliteracy. It’s aimed at high school students, but, as I wrote in a previous post, there’s a case to be made for showing the film even to younger kids. Or at least for talking with them about the issues it raises. We haven’t shown our 7-year-old the movie yet, but we plan to soon. 

Need help deciding whether to let your children watch? Check out these kid-centric reviews from Common Sense Media and Parent Previews.

This post originally appeared on Spoonfed in April 2010, when PBS showed the film in honor of Earth Day.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Last day of school. Time for a final salute to my daughter’s terrific first-grade teacher. And to all the other teachers who realize that what kids eat — and what they know about food — matters.

But it’s the last couple months, I think, that have been the most remarkable. It’s during this time that Ms. S has been leading a “Sustainable You” unit. OK, a lot of schools and a lot of teachers do healthy-eating units. But you know how that goes: Eat your vegetables. Don’t eat too many sweets. Drink your milk. Not every school food lesson is like that. But a lot of them are.

This one was different. The kids read books about sustainable food and food habits, including the amazing “Hungry Planet: What the World Eats,” which chronicles, in vivid photographs, a week’s worth of groceries for 30 families in 24 countries. They completed worksheets tied to the film “What’s on Your Plate?” that asked kids to “talk about what they eat, where it comes from and why that matters.” We discussed the importance of local agriculture, the differences between whole and processed foods, and why chemical ingredients are bad news.

Mind you, this wasn’t my doing. I helped. I gave Ms. S some ideas and lent her some books. But she started it and ran with it. And, most importantly, she owned it. This wasn’t a PC food unit. She didn’t shy from controversial topics. But she did it with grace and good humor, and no one felt offended or judged or put on the spot.

Then there were the everyday things, like how Ms. S handled food differences and snacks and parties, things I talked about in this post and that we’re discussing again this week on Facebook. Just good stuff that made me grateful for a kindred spirit in the classroom.

The kids finished the unit with a walk to the farmers’ market and through the school garden for some local produce to bake and dehydrate for their Poet Tea, a sort of poetry slam for the grade-school set. And tonight at the school picnic the class will give Ms. S  food-themed gifts to end the year: gift certificates for a local food co-op and two producer-only farmers’ markets, and a classroom copy of “Hungry Planet.” And memories books from the kids. Not food-themed. Just awesome.

Any teacher food stories of your own? Tales from this year? Hopes for next?

Happy summer, all.

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Fight Back Fridays.

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In the weeks since the FDA passed the buck on artificial food dyes, there’s been a lot of talk about the studies. Studies that elicit dismissive words like “inconclusive” and “inconsistent.” Or my favorite: “urban legends.”

The FDA’s advisory panel, while weighing warning labels for foods containing fake dyes, did acknowledge ill effects in some kids with behavioral problems, and called for more research. But the panel wasn’t convinced of dangers for the general population. (Not enough, anyway. The vote was 8 to 6.) So no labels. “If we put a label that long on every chemical and ingredient that hasn’t been adequately studied,” epidemiologist Tim Jones told the Washington Post, “you wouldn’t see the package anymore.”

Hold up. So the people making the rules (or advising the people who make the rules) won’t OK warning labels, because the dye-behavior research is inconclusive. Yet they’ll allow food ingredients where the research is… inconclusive.

How do I even begin to deconstruct that irony?

I know. Let’s just forget the concept of warning labels. Instead: Don’t allow anything that “hasn’t been adequately studied” to be put in food or called food in the first place.

This radical idea has a name. It’s called the precautionary principle, and it’s the idea that if something could harm the public or the environment — especially in the absence of significant benefit — you don’t do it. If there are doubts, even if there’s no scientific consensus, the burden shifts from proving harm to proving safety.

Here’s how that would apply to food dyes: Instead of requiring scientists, parents and consumer advocates to prove that petrochemical dyes cause health and behavioral issues, the precautionary principle would require dye makers, food manufacturers and regulatory agencies to prove that these colors don’t cause health and behavioral issues.

The thing is, this isn’t some fantasy ethical theory. It’s actually in use, not only in other countries, but also, to a limited degree, in the United States. And has been for at least 20 years. The precautionary principle underlies U.S. acts governing workplace safety and endangered species, for instance (though it’s debatable how seriously it’s applied). It’s the reason some European countries have banned genetically modified crops and/or require labels on foods made with GMOs.

And when the U.K. Food Standards Agency encouraged parents and manufacturers to avoid food dyes, and the European Parliament mandated dye warning labels, the message was clear: Rather than risk children’s health, let’s be responsible and take precautions while we figure it out. And wouldn’t you know it? Several huge U.S. food manufacturers swapped petrochemical dyes for natural dyes in products they sell overseas (in some cases dropping preservatives and artificial sweeteners, too). But here at home they’ve continued peddling the same chemical junk.

So of course the food industry cheered the FDA’s non-decision last month. It’s all about personal responsibility, food makers say. Artificial colors are listed right there on the label, they point out. But that’s lame. Consumers need to be responsible, yes, but food manufacturers also need to own up to the potential dangers and stop obfuscating with goofy justifications.

Like this, from a recent New York Times story:

“Color is such a crucial part of the eating experience that banning dyes would take much of the pleasure out of life,” said Kantha Shelke, a food chemist and spokeswoman for the Institute of Food Technologists. “Would we really want to ban everything when only a small percentage of us are sensitive?”

Banana or “banana”?

Indeed, color often defines flavor in taste tests. When tasteless yellow coloring is added to vanilla pudding, consumers say it tastes like banana or lemon pudding. And when mango or lemon flavoring is added to white pudding, most consumers say that it tastes like vanilla pudding. Color creates a psychological expectation for a certain flavor that is often impossible to dislodge, Dr. Shelke said.

“Color can actually override the other parts of the eating experience,” she said.

Seriously? Banning food dyes would “take much of the pleasure out of life”? And do we want to think food tastes like banana or vanilla? Or do we want it to actually taste like banana or vanilla?

Then there’s this explanation from the benign-sounding but industry-funded International Food Information Council Foundation:

Color additives are used in foods for many reasons: 1) to offset color loss due to exposure to light, air, temperature extremes, moisture and storage conditions; 2) to correct natural variations in color; 3) to enhance colors that occur naturally; and 4) to provide color to colorless and “fun” foods. Without color additives, colas wouldn’t be brown, margarine wouldn’t be yellow and mint ice cream wouldn’t be green. Color additives are now recognized as an important part of practically all processed foods we eat.

The IFIC gets points for honesty. Though I get the impression that nobody over there sees the problem with “color loss due to exposure to light, air, temperature extremes, moisture and storage conditions.” (Um, ick.) And, really, let’s just drop the ruse and drink water, use butter and eat minty white ice cream instead.

But here’s the thing. Just because the FDA did nothing, just because the food industry is big and rich and apparently shameless, that doesn’t mean the rest of us are powerless. The choices we make, the voices we raise — it all matters:

Know what you’re eating
First and foremost: read ingredients. Artificial colors are listed by color and number (see the image below). For more detail on food dyes and other additives, use smartphone apps like those from Fooducate and the Center for Science in the Public Interest. It seems overwhelming, I know, because food dyes are in even natural-looking foods, like pickles and tortilla chips. But you can avoid them. Really, you can. We do. And I know lots of other people who do, too. A bonus: Ditching artificial colors will automatically improve your diet, since they’re a hallmark of low-quality foods.

Tell companies you’re not buying it
Write to food manufacturers and sign petitions, like this one asking Kraft Foods to stop using petrochemical dyes here just as it’s done overseas. If you have certain brands you favor, find the consumer contact information on their websites and tell the companies how you feel.

Report your personal experiences
The Center for Science in the Public Interest, the main group that lobbied for the FDA hearings, collects stories from parents whose children have had adverse reactions to food dyes. For some kids, the effects are devastatingly obvious. But even kids who aren’t hard-wired can react. I’d even argue that’s the case for most kids, on some level, whether parents realize it’s happening or not. Think about how many times you’ve been at a birthday party with junky cake and seen the ramp-up, the fidgets, distractedness. It’s not sugar that causes the crazies. It’s food dye and other additives. And even if your kid is unfazed, watch how the jacked-up kids change the group dynamic. Then imagine what happens in school when kids bring Lunchables and colored yogurt and “fruit” gummies, sucking all the teacher’s attention because they can’t behave. That sort of thing? That counts as your personal experience, too.

Try to get your school on board
Easier said than done, I realize. Even in my daughter’s small, progressive school, we’ve gotten pushback while trying to discourage food dyes from shared foods (for parties and birthdays). But it’s worth a shot. Gather some background data on food dyes (a good place to start: past Spoonfed posts). Then take a look at these how-to guides from PEACHSF.org. Especially if you’re in a larger school or district, you’ll find great tips on how to approach your school and be an effective advocate. And if all you do is raise awareness or food IQ even a bit, well, that’s something.

Too often, consumer (especially parent) concerns are dismissed as emotional, driven by fear instead of fact. But the precautionary principle turns that criticism around:

What the precautionary principle says is that fear — in the form of caution — has its place. When there is real reason to be careful, when an activity raises threats of harm, act accordingly! That is common sense, not an absolute.

But the precautionary principle is not just against what we fear; it is laid down on the side of what we love. We proclaim in the precautionary principle that human health and the environment are worth protecting.

Amen to that. Our health is worth it. Our kids are worth it. (And a nod to Earth Day: So is the planet they’ll inherit.) Now let’s get this done.

Thoughts on caution, accountability, making choices, raising voices?

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This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays and Fight Back Fridays.

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The other night I watched Jamie Oliver on the “Late Show.” At one point, amid cooking, pitching his newest “Food Revolution” and tweaking David Letterman, Oliver got serious and said (to paraphrase): With what we know about food and health, we ought to be doing better by our kids. Anything less is a crime.

Lots of people hear something like that and scoff. A crime? Sheesh, don’t be so dramatic. But when school food is influenced by government conflicts  and corporate kickbacks, when food manufacturers and marketers aren’t held accountable, when the FDA allows additives to go unchecked, well, what else do you call it?

So I’m on board for season two of “Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution,” which starts tonight (8 p.m. ET) on ABC. While Oliver’s critics make some valid points, I think his heart is solidly in this. And our kids need more people who not only give a damn, but are willing to do something about it. Even if that something is a “reality” show where a cheeky Brit holds up a mirror to how we feed kids in this country, in school and out.

The show’s first season was set in Huntington, W.Va. This year it’s in Los Angeles. Couple of good articles: Oliver’s motivations and the L.A. experience. Read, watch, let me know what you think. And now a sneak peek:

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