I'll have a side of arsenic with that, thank you.

Pink slime. Ammonia. Arsenic. Hormones. Steroids. Genetic alteration. Doesn’t that all sound yummy? If you read the paper or listen to television news at all, you’re learning (as I am) that all this stuff is put in our food, and done to our food, in an attempt to strengthen the bottom line of the companies that provide them. Who’s supposed to be at the switch on this? The FDA? Well great job.

So many of us grew up in the generation that ate whatever was marketed to us on TV. We ate potato chips. We ate Little Debbies and drank sugared-up, revved-up soft drinks. I mean, if they were on television, they must have been OK, right? Hey, they must have actually been good for us, even.

I have, in the past seven or eight years, begun to pay close attention to nutrition, food sources and additives. As a result, we grow our own vegetables in a small garden in our back yard. When I learned that chickens are being pumped up with steroids heretofore only seen in sweaty, dark gyms, I started shopping for organic chicken. When pink slime was exposed as being a widely-used ammonia-treated beef filler (used, of course, in our best interest to keep costs down), I started shopping for organic beef. 

I’m not sure when some guy sitting somewhere in a penthouse office decided that it was OK to sell consumers foods that would likely make them or their children sick, but he did. And I’m not sure when the good folks at the FDA decided that certain amounts of this or that, rat hair or ammonia, slime or steroids, are acceptable for human consumption, but they did.

 I am sure, however, that it’s our responsibility to do our homework on this stuff. It’s my responsibility as a wife, a mom and a consumer, to know what we’re consuming. I just wish full disclosure was required of the folks that sell this stuff, and I wish the people who are supposed to be minding the store would use some common sense when they rubber-stamp foods safe for consumption. But until that day, I will read everything I can get my hands on, starting with labels.

Now, it’s almost time to make dinner. Let’s see, what goes best with abnormally large chicken breasts? Carmine (crushed red beetle abdomens) or bone char (cow bones used in several foods, including gelatin and sugar)?

Carole Townsend is also a Gwinnett Daily Post staff correspondent and author of the recently-released book, “Southern Fried White Trash.” The book takes a humorous look at families and how we behave when thrown together for weddings, funerals and holidays. She has been quoted on msnbc.com, in the LA Times, USA Today and the Christian Science Monitor, been featured on FOX 5 News and CNN, and is often a guest on television and radio shows nationwide. Her next book, “Red Lipstick and Clean Underwear,” will be released this summer.

Holiday traditions evolve, and that's OK

Growing up as I did, one of many children with lots of aunts and uncles, holidays were always highlighted with big meals. Of course, Thanksgiving was the Queen Mother of all these spreads, but Easter was always right up there, too. My mom and my aunts would cook for days, everything made from scratch. For nearly thirty years, I have tried to live up to that legacy. A few years ago, I had an epiphany.

No matter how long a cook takes to prepare a  meal, no matter how many hard-to-find ingredients are required, no matter how great a  hand-me-down recipe may be, it still takes everyone about a half hour to eat the entire repast. That light bulb came on when my children were young and has grown brighter every year. Yes, my family appreciates my cooking but hey, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

There are several bakeries out there who make better yeast rolls than I do, and I make a pretty mean roll. The Honey Baked Ham Company has me beat hands down in the main course department. Potato salad is sold in every store in the free world, and most of them taste the same - awful. Nobody in my family will eat it anyway. That leaves, say, baked beans (how hard can they be?), deviled eggs (my youngest daughter’s specialty)  and maybe a salad. I will make a dessert or two, just because I enjoy baking.

I had to check myself this year, as I almost crossed a line that I’m not sure I’m ready to cross yet. You see, I have a couple of book signings in Tennessee both Friday and Saturday this weekend, leaving me almost no time to prepare for the family and friends we’re expecting to celebrate with us on Sunday. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a good problem to have, but still…

I was in my local supermarket the other day, and I saw pre-colored eggs for sale. They weren’t the plastic ones you fill with surprises and hide; they were actual eggs someone else had dyed and packaged, probably last summer but I don’t know that for sure. I actually picked up a carton or two, then stopped myself.

 

The day I get too busy to dye Easter eggs is the day I’m way too busy. That vinegary smell and the hopelessly stained dog fur and little fingers that go with egg dyeing are all part of the experience. I can do without slaving in the kitchen; I won’t do without the family memories. Truth be told, I think I enjoy the activity more than the children ever did.