Campers, I was shocked - shocked! - to be accused of letting my emotions get the better of me in last week's posting about the sinister side of the gluten-free business.
In my own estimation, my supermarket screed's rating on the snark-scale (where 1 is glowing praise, as for Le Bernardin, and 10 is utter revilement, as for the Bread That Wasn't) was a middling 5 at worst. Or is it best? I never can tell about these things.
Never one to scorn constructive criticism, however, I decided to examine my conscience to see whether I had, perhaps, been a bit unfair to the Fearsome Peddlers of Gluten-Free Goods To The Masses and the Evil Minions of Agribusiness.
I concluded that I had - maybe - been a tad discriminatory. After all, my judgements were based solely on the information available to me on my supermarket's website - and I have stated categorically elsewhere that I never trust the internet. In addition, a good scientist should withhold conclusions until all the evidence is before her, which I most certainly had not. I had neither seen nor tasted the products I was so quick to condemn, relying instead on past unfortunate experience to mold my perceptions.
Well, shame on me.
Today I presented myself in the frozen food aisle where there has appeared in recent weeks two large glass-fronted freezers dedicated to gluten-free baked goods. I was determined - determined, I say! - to select something from one of these chill chests so I could take it home, try it, and pass my verdict in full knowledge and without bias. The freezers were full to bursting with muffins, breads, cookies, and other potential goodies so the only difficulty was choice. Interestingly, very few of these products had been evident during last week's runway-side web-browsing session, so I approached the problem with a mind doubly open to the possibilities before me.
I started with cookies. Two varieties were available - snickerdoodles and chocolate chip. Now, I was never a big cookie fan even before the onset of my gluten-guerrilla warfare, so perhaps I am ill-equipped to pass comment. However, the cookies looked far too like the Disagrees I have rejected in the past - sawdust-colored hockey pucks with the heft and texture of recycled particle board. I'm sorry, but there was no way they could possibly be worth the calories.
But that's all right - plenty more delicacies from which to choose!
Chocolate brownies, perhaps? Well, when I think of brownies I think of ooey-gooey squares that have been baked in a cake tin. The best specimens, of course, come from the middle of the pan where there are no crunchy edges to detract from the softness within. These frozen examples had been baked in little muffin cups and therefore clearly could not be called brownies in the strictest sense of the word. Since I am a stickler for The Trade Description Act I could not in good conscious buy these cakes, now, could I? That would be hypocritical. Also, they were unnecessarily dairy-free, which I thought was stupid.
Next!
Ooh - muffins! I've always liked a good muffin. I had two varieties available to me: pumpkin and blueberry. Sadly, even the most cursory examination of their ingredients spelled disaster. The first item in the pumpkin muffin's list was sugar. I don't care if it is raw, unrefined, organic, or distilled from the tears of angels - sugar is sugar and it shouldn't be the primary element in anything eaten before two o'clock in the afternoon. It's a well-established culinary rule.
What about a blueberry muffin, then? Its main constituent components were - wait for it - lentils. Lentils!
I don't think so.
I was intrigued by the next item in the freezer, identified by its shelf sticker as chocolate mousse. Well, OK - but mousse is something that shouldn't have gluten in it anyway. Maybe they meant chocolate mousse cake? Now we're talking! Tragically, when I opened the frost-covered door to get a better look I discovered a whole nuther shelf full of snickerdoodle containers.
Foiled again!
How about a box of chocolate-dipped donuts? I adore donuts - in fact, they are something I really long for sometimes, especially as both the boys love them too and have refused to demonstrate solidarity by swearing off them. I took the box from its appointed place and prepared to pop it into my cart when a couple of unfortunate facts leaped out at me from the label. First of all, the donuts contained pea protein. Huh? What on earth for? I was prepared to overlook this strangeness, reasoning that it at least sounded natural (sort of), when I was brought up short by the cooking instructions. Cooking instructions? For donuts? Apparently, these bad boys must be served warm to 'improve their texture.'
Nope, nope, nope. I do not eat my donuts warm unless they are coming straight out of the fryer with a simple dusting of sugar. What on earth happens to the chocolate coating on a microwaved donut? It melts, that's what - unless it's made of something unmeltable. Which chocolate should never be. If texture is such as issue then the company's food scientists should be put to work developing a new recipe. It is not my job to pay good money and then collude in the concealment of the manufacturer's mistakes.
Pass.
This was proving to me more difficult than I'd imagined but I persevered. I still had several more shelves to get through!
I glossed right over the 'breaded chicken nuggets,' 'breaded chicken cutlets,' and 'breaded chicken breast'. See my position on false advertising, above. Something cannot be breaded unless there is bread involved. Actual bread made from gluten. Also, I have a dread fear of processed frozen chicken.
I was looking for something sweet, anyway.
Perhaps French bread sticks would fit the bill? I decided to ignore the word bread in the designation, having resigned myself to its use by the Unscrupulous Lackeys of Gluten-Free Capitalism. A little shocked by the $5.19 price tag, I searched in vain to see how many breakfast bars the ten-ounce box contained. I had to deduce its contents from a number of clues scattered about the packaging: a serving size equalled four pieces, there were 'approximately' four servings in a box ... Why not just come out and say so? What were the producers trying to hide? I'll tell you what. The appalling nutritional information, that's what. Each serving contained 170 calories (55 of which were from fat) and 95 grams of sodium! Of vitamins there were precisely none, although there were trace elements of iron, protein, and calcium - far less than my preferred breakfast of champion gluten-freedom fighters, organic super-yogurt and chia seeds. Needless to say, that didn't stop the French breaders from claiming that their product is 'a great start to the day!' and a must-have for the busy moms of rugrats with allergies.
It's easy to see where the childhood obesity/diabetes epidemic is coming from, that's all I'm saying.
But what was that at the end of the shelf? Be still my heart - vanilla gingerbread cake! I carefully removed the plastic box from the freezer and examined the four cupcakes within. I know, I know. I think cupcakes are silly. But I was running out of options and I was determined not to let irrational prejudice get in the way of empirical judgement. The cakes looked nice enough and they were each covered in pristine swirls of white buttercream. The ingredients seemed wholesome, too - brown rice flour, molasses, ginger, various traditional leavening agents, and xanthan gum way way down the list.
Pay dirt! Satisfied that I had found a winner, I perused the tasteful packaging one more time - more out of habit than any fear of the unknown. And what did I find?
Coconut. The only edible article on this planet I dislike so much that I will actually avoid it all costs - even in suntan lotion or mixed drinks. I hate the aroma, the texture, and everything about it. It's gross.
With a sigh, I returned my cakes to the freezer where they belonged and turned my back on the gluten-free aisle forever.
But honestly, I tried.
Really I did.
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