One more thing about corn syrup

Anyone who has been within a 5km radius of me in the past few years has probably heard me rant on about corn syrup, and I hinted at my feelings toward the substance here. Corn syrup — specifically high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) — has been in the news lately because:
1. The food industry has been trying to promote it as a "natural" ingredient.
2. The US Food and Drug Administration recently reversed a ruling stating that HFCS could not be labeled as "natural" because it contained synthetic fixing agents.

Well, an article in FoodNavigator, a popular food industry news site, explains why:
The process sees the enzymes for making HFCS being fixed to a column by the use of a synthetic fixing agent called glutaraldehyde. However, this agent does not come into contact with the high dextrose equivalent corn starch hydrolysate and so it is not "considered to be included or added to the HFCS"

Sounds like typical regulatory doublespeak, right? Right. They are saying that although this chemical, glutaraldehyde, is used in manufacturing this "natural" substance (Side note: Since when are natural things manufactured?), it is not actually in the food. That's all well and good, but perhaps the FDA neglected to reflect on the toxicity of a chemical like glutaraldehyde. They should know all about it, because they have been strictly monitoring occupational exposure to it for over 60 years.

Now, I know a whole lot about this relatively obscure chemical. Perhaps ironically, I wrote my master's thesis on, of all things, glutaraldehyde, along with few other chemicals that were being introduced to eliminate the use of such a toxic substance altogether (summary here). Glutaraldehyde is long known to cause respiratory and skin allergies as well as a debilitating and little understood form of occupational asthma—not from ingesting it but from just being around it.

Glutaraldehyde is commonly used in leather tanning, and as a high level disinfectant for delicate hospital equipment. It is used to clean endoscopes and other medical equipment that can't be subject to heat sterilization. This stuff can kill tuberculosis and HIV, and they are using it to manufacture "natural" "food" products?! Something is not right here.

Definitions of natural notwithstanding, this leads me to another perhaps more serious concern. Because glutaraldehyde is so toxic, occupational health regulations require that its use be minimized in hospital settings and it can only when there is no safer alternative for cleaning medical equipment. So why are we exposing factory workers to it and putting them at risk of debilitating respiratory illness simply so we can use up all that subsidized American corn to make a cheaper form of sugar for food processing? I suspect that those handling the substance in these factories don't have the same level of protection as Canadian hospital workers.

The FDA, nor its Canadian counterpart Health Canada, does not have a spectacular record of protecting employees over ceding to industry demands. After two years of pestering both agencies, along with the manufacturers of glutaraldehyde and several supposedly safer alternatives, I found that it didn't take much for these companies to convince the regulators that their new thing was not only safe enough for market, but safe enough to relax occupational health regulations.

Still here

I've had reports of complaints regarding my absence from the blogworld. I apologize, with the excuse that my trip to India became very busy, with almost no free time for such endeavours. On the up side, I finished all the India based field research I had left to do for my thesis. I'm now taking a short vacation with friends (and a surprise visitor) in Israel, and head back toVancouver on Friday. I've been saving up stories and promise I will get up to date soon. Since this is the end of my research travel, I'll have to work on making my life in Vancouver more interesting so I'll still have something to write about!

Life in the Information Age

The saga of my complicated relationship with India continues. As I near the end of my last planned trip to India I am filled with mixed feelings. In many ways I am looking forward to ending my time of trying to live in two different countries, always packing up and moving to the other just as I get back into a routine in one. It's been an exhausting year and a half and it will be nice to stay away from airports and large backpacks for a while (notwhithstanding my Big Chill Revisited trip to Quebec in August to visit the old St.John's crowd). Still, when I think that in less than two weeks I will be leaving here with no idea when I will return makes me a little sad. I feel there is still so much to do, so much to see. I've met so many amazing people, and they keep introducing me to more. One thing I am looking forward to is that open, friendly Canadian style of communication....

It would be so much easier to, well, do anything, here if only people weren't so averse to sharing information. One of the NGOs I've been working with had a tendency to ask me why I wasn't at an event, organized by them, that was directly related to my research - the day after. I don't think they were keeping information from me, but it never occurred to anyone to tell me in advance. They seemed to think I would know. Direct and pointed questions are key, but you need to know what to ask. It's also important never to ask a question that could require an "I don't know" reply, because I have never heard these words uttered. This usually happens when asking directions, and if the person doesn't know they will make something up on the spot and tell you with the utmost surity how to get there.

Today was another example of how I will NOT miss this.

I was supposed to take a day trip by train to Alappuzha today to meet with a research contact. We spoke on the phone last night and decided to meet here in Thiruvananthapuram instead, since she has to come here on Monday. This means I could cancel my train ticket. Off I went to the station to make the cancellation and get a refund. I knew there was a separate reservations desk I needed to go to, but I couldn't find it so went to the information booth. I was told my morning ticket couldn't be refunded until after 8pm, and the return couldn't be refunded until today. So I left and went back this afternoon. I got in the wrong line up - 1/2 hour in the midday heat - to be told where the reservation office actually is, in another building. I went there and took a number to find there were 200 people ahead of me. I was clearing going to miss my afternoon appointment so I left and returned a couple of hours later. I was not looking forward to the wait so went to inquire that I could in fact get a refund. I was told I had to write a request for refund on a piece of white paper, which was procured for me with some difficulty, and I was directed to the station manager's office. The manager ripped up my request, wrote something on my ticket, and sent me directly to a wicket (no waiting!). Turns out I was too late to refund my morning ticket (why couldn't they do it last night!?) and because my return train was leaving within 4 hours I could only get a 50% refund. Again, why couldn't any have told me this earlier?! So I took my refund and left, thankful that at least I didn't wait for 3 hours in the line for what turned out to be $3.50. Cost for 3 rickshaw trips: $3.25.

Slow Food IS Good Food

Finally, a week after leaving Italy, I think I may soon be hungry again. Maybe. I Spent the first few days talking food at Slow Food, and spent most of the rest of my visit just eating food. My diet was basically wine, espresso, gelato, cheese, and cured meats. And pasta of course. The few days I spent in Bra let me see a little of the inner workings of Slow Food and its University of Gastronomic Sciences, and I liked what I saw. They truly do seem to be living their rhetoric. Food is really, really important to these folks.

My meetings with the organizers of Terra Madre were fruitful. The workshop on agricultural land stewardship that I proposed along with Heather Pritchard from Farm Folk City Folk has been accepted as one of 28 thematic streams at the 2008 gathering. So, in addition to representing the UBC Faculty of Land and Food Systems at Terra Madre, I will be facilitating our workshop, moderating comments from farmers and activists around the world. Based on contributions to the online forum, we will identify the key issues from different places and arrange for as many people as possible to speak at the October meeting. I will then facilitate the discussion at Terra Madre.

What really amazed me about Slow Food and Italy is the way people really seem to live Slow Food. We had the Slow Food restaurant guide and ate at as many recommended places as possible. Unlike in Canada, the best restaurants in Italy are ALL about the food. There's no pretence, no need to dress up, and there's no show. It seemed that most places to eat were about the same price range (expensive). Nothing was really cheap and almost nothing was exhorbitant. The atmosphere in the really great places we went was relaxed and homey. Most were family run places, with the owners doing everything from cooking to serving tables. And they are proud of what they do.

It's completely normal to eat 3 or 4 courses at any meal, even lunch. Once the food was so good that Nathan ordered his main course of oven roasted pork a second time. They didn't raise an eyebrow. We never did figure out how to get tap water, but the wine flows free so it was never a big deal. Most restaurants have their own house wine available by the glass or part bottle. One place we went in Florence had bottles of house red on all the tables. You just pull the cork and drink as much as you like, and they somehow charge you for what you drink. No one was getting trashed, but it's perfectly acceptable, even expected, to have a glass with your sandwich at noon.



In Florence we found a great Slow solution to fast food. There
were sandwich restaurants that were seemed to be an abundance of either open to the streets or just tiny little places. They served only sandwiches, and had a list of combinations of meat and cheese and occasionally vegetables. You just choose one and eat it right there. One even had a little stand for your glass of wine (served in real glasses, even out on the street). It was pretty cheap, pretty healthy, waste free, and only served real food. Nothing in a package. All local ingredients. And simple. So very simple. And did I mention how GOOD it tasted?

Bra Bus

I’ve been in Italy 2 days, and already have had some great adventure. I spent the first two days in Torino with Nathan and his mom. We ate a lot. I had a meeting with some folks at Slow Food on the day Mrs. Leamy had to fly out, so I left on the train early in the morning with plans for Nathan to meet me in Bra (the town) later that afternoon. It seemed very simple: I had train ticket to Carmagnola where I was to transfer to a bus to Bra, arriving with an hour and half to spare.

I was at the door as my train approached Carmagnola, ready to jump out, but the button that opens the door didn’t do a thing and I found myself still on the train as it pulled out of the station. What to do but stay there and get out at the next station and then try to figure out how to get to Bra from there? Fortunately, the woman in the ticket office spoke enough English to understand my story and give me a ticket back to Carmagnola (fortunately, towns in Italy are very close together). I got to Carmagnola and things got a little more complicated. I had already missed my scheduled bus to Bra and wanted to find out where and when to get the next one. The station was tiny – basically a platform and a few chairs – and no one in the ticket booth. I found a bus and driver waiting out front and tried to ask the driver about getting to Bra. He didn’t speak a word of French or English and I thought I was out of luck and about to miss my meetings. I was wandering around, trying to decipher the posted schedules, when he motioned for me to come back. He took my bag and motioned for me to get on the bus. I followed, thinking that this must be the Bra bus.

The driver put me in the seat next to him, and that was when I noticed I was the only one on the bus. Then the realization: “Oh my god, he’s going to give me a ride to Bra!” Seemed crazy, but we had no shared language so I went with it. It took 45 minutes to drive there, during which we somehow conversed about all sorts of things in our separate languages. He didn’t know my hotel, so called the number I had to find out where it was. I told him I was a tourist, and a student of agriculture. He told me he lives alone in a big house in Liguoria where he hosts students on some sort of hospitality basis. He told me I should come stay there instead of my hotel. I wanted to halt that idea pretty quick, so told him, by moving my ring to my 4th finger and trying out a few words, that I was meeting my “husband” at the hotel. At first I think he thought I was asking him to marry me, but I eventually go the point across. He wanted to know if my husband was Italian, so I told him he was American. He asked how old I was and was surprised to learn my real age. And he kept telling me I was a “bella donna Canadese” (a beautiful Canadian woman) and he was an Italian....something.

We drove into Bra and I told him I just needed to go to the station. He kept driving past it, at which point I started to get a little nervous. Turned out he was just taking me closer to my hotel. He dropped me off at the side of the road and pointed in the direction of my hotel which was down a tiny street near a little piazza. I don’t really know how this all happened – the bus trip or the 45 minute conversation – but I was pretty glad it did. I got to Bra just in time to drop my bags at the very cute B&B and grab a really great Italian coffee on my way to my meeting. More about all that later.