'Natural food'
Rob Price

I'm chewing a mouthful of potato chips as I write this, and in a few seconds I'll rinse my mouth with a swig of cold Pepsi. The sweetness of the Pepsi will refresh my taste buds after the salty assault of the potato chips. The smooth liquidity of the soft drink also will break down the crunchiness of the potato chips. What more could a junk food junkie want?

Quite a bit, according to my recent reading. The national dust-up that has crossed my eye today is an Associated Press article on "natural" foods. What exactly is "natural"? According to the AP, that's not an easy question to answer.

The list of ingredients on my can of Pepsi includes something called "natural flavors" in addition to corn syrup, which is the major sweetening ingredient in most soft drinks today (Check out jars of ready-made tomato sauce for pasta; a lot of them also contain high fructose corn syrup). But according to the Sugar Association, there is nothing natural about corn syrup, in spite of its origins as an ear of maize. In a petition filed last year with the Food and Drug Administration, the Sugar Association alleged the basic chemical structure of corn is altered so much during processing into corn syrup, the claim to being "natural" is an impossible stretch.

Likewise with my potato chips. They were perfectly salty and greasy in a pleasant sort of way. And the list of ingredients on the bag is simple: potatoes, sunflower oil and salt. On the other hand, what went into the growing and harvesting of the potatoes? According to a recent article in the New York Times, The US Department of Agriculture found 81 percent of the potatoes tested in a 2006 study still contained pesticides after being washed and peeled. Moreover, the humble potato has one of the highest pesticide contents of 43 common fruits and vegetables, according to the Environmental Working Group.

This doesn't mean I'm going to give up potato chips and Pepsi. On the other hand, the American food industry's pollution of our basic food groups disturbs me. It should disturb you, too.

A few years ago, my wife and I had dinner with some friends who served stewed chicken made with an actual chicken that, a few days before the dinner, had been walking around their backyard on East Valley Road, near Andover. It was delicious. It tasted, in my imagination, like the chicken I used to eat when I was child. It had that unique "chicken" flavor.

Nowadays, I can barely stand to eat chicken, unless it comes in the form of Buffalo chicken wings, which are full of chicken fat and therefore taste good. I also am partial to chicken thighs and drumsticks barbecued over a low 200-degree charcoal fire for about three hours. The skin is brown and crispy, the muscle underneath ready to fall away from the bone. It tastes like chicken.

But chicken breasts - the most popular cut of the bird - have been drained of all fat, and consequently of all flavor. The dreariest form of this once-tastey morsel comes in a skinned and boned form that seems tough, dry and flavorless. It's convenient to prepare; on the other hand it has no flavor.

What is a chicken lover to do? In my refrigerator, there is one possible answer: a hermetically sealed chicken that is labeled "organic" and "free range." This would suggest a chicken that once had a life similar to the bird who had enjoyed itself in my friends' backyard - up to their decision to invite my wife and me over for dinner.

Not so! According to the Center for Science in the Public Interest, some chicken producers are marketing "allnatural" birds that have been pumped full of (all-natural) salt water. According to the Associated Press, some chickens marketed as "natural" contain phosphates, seasalt, preservatives and carageenan - a seaweed extract that, after processing, works like gelatin to bulk up various meats.

Yuk.

The gist of all this is the sad fact that the foods we eat, by the time they have traveled the distance from conception (or planting) to the grocery store shelf, have gone through a processing that removes them from any semblance of naturalness. By itself, this isn't necessarily a bad thing; on the other hand, it also means we really don't have a clue what we're eating.

I'm glad I've gotten that off my chest. Now I'm going to eat another bag of potato chips.