What’s the big deal about HFCS?

It goes something like this:

It’s a beautiful day. An attractive couple is enjoying a romantic picnic in the park.  It’s the perfect setting for a dollop of propaganda.  Have you seen these commercials by the corn syrup lobby?  She’s licking a popsicle and offering him a taste.  “Oh no,” shuns he, “it’s got high fructose corn syrup.”  She tosses her honey-hued hair and bats an eyelash. “So? What’s wrong with corn syrup? It’s practically a vegetable.”

He caves.  I think it’s the seductive giggles more than the strength of her argument, but that may just be my skewed interpretation of what happens where men and women and popsicles intersect.

“Corn syrup is fine.  Moderation,” she touts, “is key.”

Ok princess, that one I’ll give you.  Moderation is key. Moderation allows me to indulge in a sweet snack every day without beating myself up about it.

But her argument leaks. How exactly does one moderate when the sneaky substance lurks in every nook and cranny of the supermarket? It’s not as though we seek out corn syrup, insisting on seconds or thirds of those tantalizing ice pops.  It sneaks it to our diets by way of soft drinks, cereals, and condiments.  Crackers, bread and peanut butter.  And just about anything else that we buy in a box.

It’s everywhere.  That Snarky Spy of Safeway.  That Trojan horse of Target.

So what? Who cares?  Sugar by any other name, as the saying more or less goes, right?  Is it really that big of a deal if my sweetness takes the form of honey or brown sugar or highly processed high fructose corn syrup?

Yes. It is a big deal.  Recent studies have found that food items loaded with HFCS have unacceptably high levels of mercury.  Mercury is linked to problems in brain development.  HFCS is also blamed for the recent and drastic increase in diabetes in our country.  That super-sized soda sits on the side of the meal pretending to be a harmless drink; our body devours it like a bag of Halloween candy.

Not that I’m picking a fight with Halloween.  Let’s just call a spade, a spade, shall we?

Which is in fact my big hang-up with HCFS:  Awareness.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I sit down and eat my way through the kids’ bags of Halloween candy.  A bad idea, sure.  But I am fully aware that I have just consumed my share of sweets for the millennium, and presumably, I would make up for that indulgence with a nice healthy lunch.

You know, a healthy lunch, like a salad, a yogurt and a glass of chocolate milk?  But chances are that the salad dressing, the yogurt and the milk are all packed with high fructose corn syrup.  Which means in my deluded quest for health I have just consumed the equivalent of another jumbo-sized bag of m+ms.  I’ve been fooled.

It’s not fair.  I want full credit when I eat my greens.  I do not want my veggie intake tallied in the dessert column down there in internal accounting.  And I don’t want to unwittingly spoon this over-processed, mercury-laden, spy of a pseudo-food into my kids, like I did yesterday when I poured out their Rice Krispies.

It feels lousy to be fooled.

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Want more information about this stuff?  Read Michael Pollan’s book, Omnivore’s Dilemma.  It’s one of my favorites.  Also add the documentary King Corn to your Netflix list.  Two crazy college grads try to grow some corn, and get themselves educated in the process.

Daphne’s Tips at the Store:

  1. If the item says HONEY in the title (ie, Honey Wheat Bread,) it usually DOES NOT include HFCS.  This is not always true, but a good quick rule of thumb.
  2. The aisles on the inside harbor the most hiding places for HFCS.  Shop the outside perimeter.
  3. If it comes in a box, a bag, or a jar, take a quick glance at the ingredients.
  4. Nothing we eat should have 546 ingredients in it.
  5. If you want that Popsicle, eat the Popsicle.  And enjoy it in full awareness.

Sugar Cube Igloo with Frosting, *recipe not included

Kira threw a major hissy fit yesterday.  Maybe it was the culminating pressure of being home sick for a week.  Or it could have been the stress of listening to me harp about the post-concussion care list over and over again.  Whatever it was, she snapped.  Here’s what happened:

I got an email from her teacher, requesting that I send a box of sugar cubes and a tub of frosting to school. The kids, she wrote, would be creating igloos to further their study of Alaska.  Kira was delighted as she watched me shove the construction materials into her backpack.

She danced and sang, “We build them. Then we eat them.”

“No,” laughed I.  “You will not be eating them.”

Note that in the above sentence I was using the royal, plural YOU, as in “there is no way the teacher is going to watch YOU–27 eight year-olds–devour handfuls of sugar dipped in frosting and then sit YOU down to a lesson in subtraction.”

This is what Kira heard: “The lucky children of your class will gleefully participate in the ancient Alaskan igloo-eating ritual, but not you my little pretty.  No, not you. Ha-ha-ha. You will be sitting in the corner with a basket of chard and a sign that reads: I am the class goober.  Life is totally unfair.”

Now clearly I have made my case for wanting the children to eat healthy foods.  But contrary to what Kira may want you to believe, I am not an organically-obsessed ogre intent on wringing every last ounce of joy from their childhood.  I follow every healthy vegetable-laden dinner with an equally healthy ice cream sundae (or cookie or slice of pie or leftover piece of Halloween candy.)  Balance, you see, is key.

A recent article in the NY Times floats the idea that an intent focus on teaching kids about healthy foods could send them over the dietary edge.  A kid obsessed with fat, they insinuate, is no different from a kid obsessed with pesticides or vitamins or omega 3 fatty acids.  A kid obsessed, they feel, is a kid in an unhealthy relationship with food.

Forget for a moment that I am on the record in support of obsessions.  Am I “driving (my) kids absolutely crazy,” as Katie Wilson, president of the School Nutrition Association would apparently claim?   Kira probably would concur, but I’m not 100% ready to toss in the tomatoes.  Still, in the interest of appearing open-minded, I’ll concede that she has a point worth considering.

So here is what I am going to do while I let these new thoughts-on-food germinate against my open mind…

I’ll simply feed the kids one sugar frosting igloo for breakfast, and another sugar frosting igloo for lunch.  Then, I’ll follow them up with a healthy, well-balanced dinner.  Moderation, after all, is key.

PS–Hey, today is my birthday. And here is my birthday song:

Happy Birthday to me
I don’t want broccoli
Or anything that’s healthy
Just some chocolate cake for me!