Misunderstanding Michael Pollan: The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Chapter 7

It's been a while, so let's recap.  So far, Michael Pollan has advocated unlimited unprotected sex, bombing the shit out of as many countries as possible, bringing back the pre-Prohibition days of public drunkenness, and reinstituting enforced busing into our white, white, cowless suburbs.  Now I can understand why he’s earned his reputation as a radical. 

After all this, and on our seventh date, the last place I expected him to take me was McDonald's.  But okay, Michael Pollan, if you're buying.  A large fries, please.  Oh, and a strawberry shake.

In the last chapter of the corn section, Pollan drives home the point that corn is in everything we eat (remember the two-bit ho?).  From the meat that has been fattened on corn, to the corn syrup used as a sweetener, to the cornstarch and corn flour used to bind and bulk, to the fat used to fry.  Whether you're buying a prepackaged meal at the grocery store or grabbing a quick bite at a fast food joint, you can count on about 60% of the calories, on average, to come from corn.

Still, even Michael Pollan admits he isn't immune to corn's cunning charms:

"I ate a lot of McDonald's as a kid....  I loved everything about fast food: the individual portions all wrapped up like presents...; the familiar meaty perfume of the French fries filling the car; and the pleasingly sequenced bite into a burger—the soft, sweet roll, the crunchy pickle, the savory moistness of the meat."

You're really speaking my language, Michael Pollan.  Keep it coming.

"Well-designed fast food has a fragrance and flavor all its own...this generic fast-food flavor is one of the unerasable smells and tastes of childhood—which makes it a kind of comfort food.  Like other comfort foods, it supplies (besides nostalgia) a jolt of carbohydrates and fat, which, some scientists now believe, relieve stress and bath the brain in chemicals that make it feel good."

Uh-huh, tell me more.

"...but after a few bites I'm more inclined to think they're selling something more schematic than that—something more like a signifier of comfort food.  So you eat more and eat more quickly, hoping somehow to catch up to the original idea of a cheeseburger or French fry as it retreats over the horizon.  And so it goes, bite after bite, until you feel not satisfied exactly, but simply, regrettably, full."

Well, that was downer.  Note to Michael Pollan: if you're trying to sex me up, use more descriptors like "meaty perfume" and "savory moistness."  Still, I know what he means.  It’s like eating cheap chocolate.  I can eat 25 Hershey bars and still hanker for more, but give me a single, well-made truffle and I'm good.  (Congratulations, Hershey.  I guess you win.)

Anyway, this concludes the Corn section, thank god.  It’s only been six months.  Now we can move on to the section we've all been waiting for: Grass.  (Pass the French fries.)

Comments

[NurseJen]

About once a year I get a hankering for a Big Mac. It's my Big Secret. (Last time was just after watching Supersize Me -- whoda thunk?) I usually go alone, eat it in my car so no one will see, and then feel like crap (physically and mentally) for about two days.

Why? (that last was rhetorical, you don't have to actually come up with an answer.)

[adele]

I used to love McDonald's french fries, before they switched to palm oil. I still like the occasional Sausage and Egg McMuffin.

[Sis]

Don't you mean... pass the lighter?

[melissa]

Yes, what Sis said. ;)

Seriously though, I didn't know that it was something like 60%. That's rather frightening. *Shudder*

[Tammy]

Melissa: I hope I did the math right. Anyway, it's more than you'd ever expect.

Sis: I wouldn't know about such things.

Adele: I used to love those fries, too. I still crave them, but giving in leads to disappointment every single time. (Not that I won't finish them.) I also used to love their sausage biscuits, but now I reserve those only for the most severe moments of emotional unraveling.

NurseJen: I have no answers, only a compassionate ear. You are not alone. Like labor, the McGurgles are easy to forget.

[Yumi]

I envy your self-control to eat only ONE well-made truffle. I eat five. Or ten. Or fifteen. No joke. Thank god for good metabolisms and excellent genetics, otherwise I would probably be morbidly obese.