when boys are in charge

News flash!

A gang of 8-year old boys has taken over the food labeling division of the Mexican Secretariat of Health. I did not hear that on the news, but it is the only thing that makes sense to me after seeing the warning label on my package of arugula.

A little background might help. 

Last November in death by tortilla, we all had an interesting discussion on the Secretary of Health's new project to label unhealthy foods. If a food is determined to be unhealthy, it must wear a scarlet letter -- or black badge, in this case --  publicly announcing its adulterous nature with the consumer's health. Too many calories.

Too much salt. Excess sugar. Enough fat to add an "Arbuckle" after your name. That sort of thing.

As we noted two months ago, there may be some value in providing consumers with useful information about the food they are consuming. But I suspect that most people who buy a Bimbo cinnamon roll and a large bottle of Coca-Cola to wash it down are fully aware they both contain excess sugar -- that is the reason they bought it in the first place.

But some of the labels are so hilarious they undermine the whole "let's-look-more-like-Cisco-than-Sgt.-Garcia" movement. The arugula package is a perfect example.

I was not an arugula fan until the 1990s. To be perfectly honest, I am not certain I had heard of its peppery, bitter flavor until then. Undoubtedly, I had eaten it in salads without realizing what it was. Some people know it as rocket or colewort. I just didn't know it at all.

I certainly do now. Whenever I can get arugula in Mexico, which is far more common in the last three years, I use it for salads or cooking in egg dishes or mixing with watermelon and soft goat cheese to create a refreshing meal. Wherever a cook would use leaf lettuce or spinach, arugula would be a perfect substitution.

That is why I was taken aback when an official of the Mexican government took it upon himself to warn me -- personally -- in large black warning blocks that my beloved arugula was loaded with excess sugars and excess sodium. I might as well be eating a bag of Lay's habanero potato chips.

What is a guy who cares about his health to do?

Fortunately, the packer provided me with a perfect alibi. Arugula, so claims the packer, contains Vitamin A. If I eat the arugula, my skin and eyes will be as healthy as a golden retriever's. All I need to do is to indulge in the sugary, salty leaves in the package.

I did. A quick look in the mirror certified after one serving, my eyes were bright and I had the skin of a 20-year old (who wants it returned to him). Not to mention my coat had a new sheen to it.

And what about those apocryphal 8-year old boys running the food labeling shop? What else could it be? It is every boy's dream to have anything green receive a health label commensurate with its taste. I suspect broccoli will be next on the hit list.

Something like "excess insect parts." Naw. Boys that age would find the label too enticing.

Of course, if I were to obey that windbag Polonius's advice ("to thine own self be true"), I would advocate a new black label for my own protection. 

"This product contains food starting with the letter 'C.'"*


* -- For those of you who do not recall, or who do not care, I do not eat foods that start with the letter "c." Coffee. Chocolate. Creamed corn. Cream cheese. Cheese cake.

I don't know why. I just don't. Of course, labeling may not be required to further this bit of eccentricity. And that is as good as any moral for this tale.