Ultra-processed food: The low down

Lunch on the go...

School has started again. For senior students, it seems to mean important face-to-face conversations again, mostly at lunch recess times. The other day I found myself in the midst of several young school folks, all buying and sharing fast food ( fried chicken, pizza, etc). I watched them for a few minutes, then asked one of them if kids still pack a lunch for school?

He sized me up quickly, and realized immediately I meant no harm, was just a relic from the dinosaur age. Maybe he even had a grandmother who asked these same ridiculous questions?

From him, I gleaned the fact that no, kids no longer pack a lunch. It’s not “cool”. The peer pressure would be unbearable.

I watched as the “kids” pulled out numerous $20 bills to pay for the food. In a rash moment, I asked my new friend how they have so much money. His eyes shushed me, then he said “They all work for it.” 

Era abilities and preferences

Times have changed. I couldn’t help but think, as older folks are annoyingly apt to do, that this little event would never have happened in my life at my friend’s age.  Everyone packed a lunch. No thought of buying it. 

Lunch was a sandwich, and hopefully some fruit. The sandwich was made with leftovers from yesterday, or several days ago. Some were good enough to share. No ham from the deli. There was no deli!

My fascination with discovering this new teen species increased as I saw there is a kind of hierarchy in sharing lunches now. If you’re popular, you get a share of the actual fried protein. If you don’t cut it, you’re lucky to get one crispy French fry, and everyone laughs at you. Such is the cruelty of youth.

Stats

From academic studies, we can find information about this type of meal that I saw. Fried Chicken, pizzas, and virtually anything children love to eat, are ultra-processed foods. This is a very large, complicated topic, but it’s importance is probably one of the major issues facing the global community today. Eating habits have changed throughout the world, as food conglomerates extend their reach to make more money. Disease is way up, health is way down.

Fact of the matter, we’ll just look at the US for this stat, although it’s applicable to most countries now.

A large 2021 study of 33,7795 youths, aged 2-19 years, showed consumption of ultra-processed foods increased from 61.4% to 67.0%. Unprocessed, or minimally processed, foods decreased from 28.8% to 23.5%.

As I looked at this new-to-me group of youngsters, buying and gorging down their ultra-processed meals, I couldn’t help but observe only two of them were not noticeably obese.

Another interesting study from Canada discusses the links between ultra-processed food and chronic diseases: Study links diet of ultra-processed foods to chronic disease risk

A quality perspective

Strange how some events that seem minor can have lasting effects on people. Talking to the teens is one. It completely changed my thoughts regarding this situation of ultra-processed foods. Then, this email, from a dear friend in Sechelt, came across my desk the other day.

Hi Vicki,

I was in IGA for some yogurt, for the probiotics therein and happened upon an artichoke, different isle, but sometimes you go where your feet take you, and into my basket it went. When I got home I thought I'd better cook up that lovely thing before it languished in the back of the refrigerator, alone and forgotten because I seldom think of artichokes. 

Anyway, I got out one of my few remaining cookbooks to check on the proper timing, but no luck. Nothing on artichokes. 

Pawed through another cookbook, again nada. \

Brought out the Victory Garden cookbook and surprisingly.....nothing at all on artichokes. But, because it is a cookbook and therefore worthy of at least a quick scan, I ruffled through several pages and lo! What did I find under "beets"!? I found your darling recipe for Vicki's Bolognese Sauce, darling, because you actually took the time to photocopy your favourite tomatoes and dried mushrooms. For some reason, this discovery made me very happy.  

I didn't have Bolognese sauce in my mind at all, but I did immediately feel a jolt of true friendship and a closeness that was absolutely delightful. 

You can be very sure of what will be simmering away in my little kitchen tomorrow. Not a single mushroom on hand, so today is out of the question. 

Much love, S.

Here’s the recipe...

Images via VickiW

Moving forward

I have decided to write more fully on three topics that folks need to hear about in these crazy, chaotic times we find ourselves in. I want to promote more about 

• Ultra-processed food 
• Climate change
• Kindness

Zuch

I had no idea what this was! 

At first, I thought it might be vomitus from an animal. Then, I thought it might be excreta. But no, it’s little fresh nibbled chunks, possibly spat out by some animal. 

Possibly zucchini? 

Nah... Everyone likes zucchini!

Zucchini?
Image via VickiW

Three strikes and the doc is out!

 

Image via Mohamed_hassan of Pixabay

A while back, on the Sunshine Coast

I used to have a lovely physician in my life. He was caring, thorough, always a great listener. Somehow he seemed above the life most of us lesser mortals live. He ran every morning, was someone who truly practiced what he preached. I could never even imagine him eating a Magnum ice cream bar. He was perfection itself. I could also never understand why he and his exquisitely beautiful wife suddenly divorced, after a seemingly lovely marriage. 

But after a very short while, he remarried. I always liked the first wife best. It was a tiny chink in the perfection armor of my doctor hero. But then we moved.

Some things are hard when you move after being in a community for a long time. It's hard to find groups of new friends. Going to a new hairdresser is a huge leap of faith. But sometimes finding a new doctor is one of the bigger challenges out there. I was pleased when a doctor I didn't know agreed to be my family general practitioner.

He's too laid back

It's been four years now. I've been lucky enough to not need many doctor’s office visits in that time, just routine sort of stuff. On those visits I noted how very laid back my newbie doc guy was. On one occasion his office was dusty, and obviously needed a good clean. I made a remark about it, and perhaps it took, because I haven't noticed that on any infrequent visits since. He always looked sloppy.

At times like that a deep sigh welled up in me, a wistful wish that I could be seeing my Mr. Almost-Perfect doc instead.

You feel like a non-person

Dr. Sloppy didn't remember me, except from my notes. He didn't make eye contact with me, which seemed totally bizarre, and quite unfriendly. He'd avert his gaze to the computer, turn his back on me, sit on his little wheeled stool, and type whatever I said. One time I insisted he share it with me. I had the feeling he edited it as he read. 

In three years he never reminded me I needed a checkup. or to have blood tests. I don't like either, but Dr. Almost Perfect would have been on my case about that.

Hygiene

Hand washing was not his strong suit either. Doctors would be amazed at what some of their more pernickety patients notice. But you often get plenty of time to look around an enclosed room when you're waiting for them to enter; you know, when you're ushered into the examination room, and then nothing happens for 15 minutes? 

Although I felt uncomfortable at each sporadic visit, as soon as I left I forgot about these things until the next time. I did grumble though, to my dearly beloved. 

"​Uhhhhhh,” he said.

Exiting

Then my medical crisis happened. That dang, inguinal hernia nightmare started. 

Eleven days after surgery I needed to have the staples removed from the sizable wound. Doctor Sloppy seemed to do a good job, after I gently reminded him I absolutely wouldn't allow this unless I had seen hand washing. This was AFTER he’d already removed the sterile packed gismo they use! AI yi yi!

​

“I'm leaving this guy,” I reported to dearly beloved. “Can't take this any more.”

“Uhhhhh” he said.

Isn't she lovely?

First thing Monday, I called the office and firmly requested to have an appointment with a female doctor. She turned out to be beautiful and caring. She told me she’s always late because her main treatment is to listen while patients speak. She examined the bulge and swelling in my groin area very carefully, and was able to reassure me I hadn't actually bust any stitches. She advised how I could ensure the best result for myself by not doing too much too soon. Best of all, she agreed to be my family doctor.

She had one condition. I was to make a half hour appointment so that we could talk and she could know all about me. “Otherwise,” she said, “how could I possibly help you?” Dr. Sloppy had one half sentence on my computer record. That's who I was to him.

Dear, future doctor...

Thank you for visiting!

If you’ve had to deal with anything similar, I’d love for you to share it in the comments. And, as always, your visits, interest and support of the independent blogging community, is appreciated!

Vicki