Not another restaurant

Club sandwich with nitrate-laden meat?  No.  Hamburger with a bun infused with corn syrup and corn fed beef?  No thanks.  Buffalo chicken salad made from chickens that were fed chemicals to help them be able to survive in an overcrowded chicken pen overflowing with chicken shit?  No way in hell.  This is what was going through my head as I was sitting in Chili’s at the Anchorage Airport trying to decide what I wanted for lunch.  As my coworkers all dished out their orders to the waitress, I was still trying to figure out what I would actually be willing to eat off the menu.  It all of a sudden became quite apparent to me that I have indeed become one of those picky eaters I’ve always made fun of.  No, I’m not on a diet, I’m not a vegetarian and no, I’m not on the gluten-free bandwagon.  I just care about what I eat and what I put into my body.  I also want something that tastes good, which I don’t feel is too much to ask.

Growing up in the Leach family, dining out was typically reserved for occasions such as my father and his crew’s successful and safe return from a halibut or herring trip. Occasionally my brother and I could talk my parents into a trip to the Pizza Mill after church if we were really good.  Because we rarely went out to eat, I used to savor it, drooling over menu items and waiting for my 7up to arrive with a square ice cubes and a straw.  Sometimes if I was really lucky, I was allowed a Shirley Temple!

Oh, but times they are a changin’!  Now, eating out is a chore.  In fact, I’ve pretty much grown to hate it.

I’ve been traveling a lot lately and trying to find a place to eat has become increasingly difficult.  I have this deep seeded need to eat food as close to the real thing as possible.  I wasn’t always this way.  I was raised on Wonder Bread, Kraft cheese singles, Campbell’s soup, canned fruits and veggies and Doritos.  In all fairness, my mother did cook real food, and it was good food.  She made her own spaghetti sauce, schnitzel, enchiladas, homemade mac and cheese (never Kraft), and of course we ate a lot of fish and venison, but there was also no shortage of processed foods in my house.

The evolution of my choice not to eat processed foods isn’t only because I know they are bad for me. I don’t eat them because they taste like garbage.  I can actually taste the chemicals as I’m chewing and after I eat them, I feel terrible.  If you eat this stuff on a regular basis, your body is used to it and you don’t recognize the taste of chemicals that are used to preserve the food.  My body used to be accustomed to the occasional fast food and processed heat and serve food; that was until I lived in Haines and aside from the occasional greasy burger and fries at the Bamboo Room, I made everything I ate.  I rarely bought anything that was premade and I stayed away from ingredients that I couldn’t pronounce or that were not natural.  This was not only a health choice; it was a financial choice.  Salad dressing and bread was expensive, so I made my own.  It was the pre-made things that were the most expensive and I learned buying whole foods was a much better bang for my buck.  Whenever I’d go to the big cities of Juneau and Whitehorse, I’d get excited to hit the restaurant scene.  But, after the second or third meal, I would feel lousy.  My stomach would start to churn, I’d feel groggy and fuzzy headed, and almost always, I developed a headache. Once you step away from the land of preservatives, it’s hard to cross back over that line because the food simply does not taste good.

So what do I do when looking over the menu at Chilies?  I order a soup and salad with dressing on the side feeling a bit like Meg Ryan’s character Sally from When Harry Met Sally.  “Do you make the soup from scratch?  Do you add real bacon to the baked potato soup or the kind of bacon that comes in a bag crumbled and pre-cooked?  Is the lettuce iceberg or something leafy and green that actually contains nutrients?  Is the cheese in the soup real cheddar or processed cheese?”  No, I didn’t ask those things, because I am at Chilies, and OF COURSE the bacon comes in a bag.  I crunch on my tasteless iceberg lettuce and sip the Velveeta potato soup off the plastic spoon and I dream of the old 5 Star Café in Ketchikan or Mountain Market in Haines, and occasionally Rainbow Foods or Silver Bow in Juneau- that is when I feel like spending way too much money on lunch. 

I’m not embarrassed by my food pickiness.  Why do something that makes you feel lousy and isn’t good for you, especially when you have to pay for it? Maybe initially, that corn dog, all crispy and golden brown tastes wonderful, but you’re going to pay for it sooner or later.  I’m not saying I’m a purist.  I don’t eat everything organic and I admit there are things in the Rainbow Food salad bar that scare me because I didn’t know one could actually eat tree bark and I’m not quite sure I’m willing to give it a go quite yet.  I’ve also been known to scarf down a donut or scrape the leftover Costco birthday cake off the cardboard platter after the kids have had their share.

There’s an argument that it costs more to eat healthy.  When dining out, that may be true, but I’ll immediately call B.S. when it comes to making food at home.  A few months ago I was in Fred Meyers and a young couple in front of me had a week’s worth of groceries which included frozen pizzas, frozen lasagna, bagged salad, a few cans of corn, a box of Pepsi, frozen ice cream cones, frozen burritos, chocolate milk, a few bags of chips, Fruit Loops and a few other similar items.  Their total was over $100.  I was up next.  Now granted, I didn’t have meat because I mostly eat venison and fish, but I did have an organic whole chicken, potatoes, lots of fresh vegetables (some organic, some not), organic yogurt, organic milk, organic eggs, granola from bulk, cheddar cheese, ice cream (Ben and Jerry’s) and a few other things that I can’t remember.  My total was under $60.  Now, I have rice at home that I buy at Costco and other things that I would incorporate into my meal planning for the week, but I’m sure even with those items factored in to my weekly purchase, I’d still be under $100. The other big difference in our shopping carts was that their food didn’t have to be prepared; it just had to be unwrapped and heated.  I have to prepare mine, which does take time.  But, even after working a full day and coming home to two hungry kids, there are meals I know I can make from scratch in less than 30 minutes, and that’s with a 28lb two year old clutching my leg as I shuffle about the kitchen.  It can be done.

There are some really good documentaries out there right now about food that might even scare the McRib out of a McDonald lover’s hand.  I just watched Forks over Knives and I highly recommend.  Others worthy of mention are Food.inc, King Corn, and of course, Supersize Me. There are some good books out there too.  I read Omnivores Dilemma on my cruise with Penny and at one point, I loudly blurted out on the sun deck, “Oh that’s absolutely disgusting!” when I read what was in McDonalds chicken nuggets.  I then read to Penny that chicken McNuggets contain TBHQ, a form of butane (lighter fluid), which is derived from petroleum gas.  Penny frowned and said that little James and her love chicken nuggets and they are a special treat.  I scolded her and said “You’re feeding your son processed corn and lighter fluid along with thirty-eight other ingredients!”  I think I broke Penny’s heart that day.

I could go on my food rant all day and by doing so, I will probably make people afraid to invite me over to dinner, if I haven’t already ousted myself from all future invitations.  Like I said, I’m not a purist.  However, I do admit that right now, sitting in my hotel fridge is a quiche I made in Juneau that I packed carefully in my suitcase and brought with me to Fairbanks to eat for breakfast for the next four days.  The thought of eating cardboard muffins and sweet over-processed doughy bagels from the hotel continental breakfast was just too much for me to handle.  Okay, maybe I am a food snob.  There are worse things to be.