Health

No, this is not a discussion about eating worms or bugs or balut or any of the other less-than-savory things they ate on that show that I never watched. I’m talking about the food myths that have become mainstream “knowledge” and have catapulted the sale of some dubious health and diet books, many of which have thankfully faded into near oblivion. Think T-Factor Diet. Or Atkins for Life.

Friends, the time has come. We laughed. We cried. (Okay, mostly we cried.) We shared great stories and strong feelings. We ate lunch with our kids and lived to tell engaging stories about the terrific lunch ladies (and cook managers) in our schools; our country's restrictions, policies, and prices; and how much ranch dressing you can put on a piece of pizza.

Unless you’re in a professional kitchen where a non-stick pan doesn’t have a chance of survival then there’s a pretty good chance that you have at least one Teflon™ or non-stick pan in your cupboard.  Just as we revisited the plastics in our drawers and the cans in our pantries, it’s time to look at our cookware, too.

Today is the deadline for entries for the “Eat Lunch with Your Kids” contest. Thanks to all of you who have sent such terrific stories about your school lunch with your sons and daughters. If you haven't sent us your entry, please do so today -- or you’ll miss your chance to win a one-year supply of Organic Valley milk and much more!

Although I’m not allowed participate in the contest, I did commit to eating lunch at school with my twin eight-year-olds. And taking pictures and writing about it. So two weeks ago, I packed their lunches (as I usually do) and planned to meet them at 12:00 sharp in the school cafeteria -- only they would be eating Annie's organic, whole-wheat macaroni and cheese with peas; Gala apples; Minneola tangerines; local carrots; and organic lemonade, and I would be eating:

For a fortunate few, eating gluten-free is simply a choice. For others it's a difficult lifestyle change once they've been diagnosed with a gluten intolerance, which can ranging from a mild sensitivity to full-blown celiac disease.

There is a steady wet drizzle and a thick coat of fog covering the road as I drive southwest from Minneapolis to Cedar Summit Creamery just outside of New Prague. It is, in other words, the perfect, sloppy, late-winter day to visit a farm.

I recently had the chance to sit down with a handful of sixth graders at Sanford Middle School in Minneapolis. The students had been complaining that the lunches they were being served tasted bad and made them feel sick, and their teacher asked me to come answer questions, provide context, and make suggestions.

For an hour, these thoughtful students and I discussed healthy food choices, growing a garden, being pressed for time (a 12 year old girl told me she didn't have time to put an apple in her backpack in the morning), eating on a budget, and how to affect change. I've been thinking about the discussion ever since.

I'm sure I've never looked forward to a doctor visit. Maybe it's because I've never hit my ideal weight (or my doctors' ideal weight for me), so I expect a talking to each time I go. Maybe it's because I passed out one time when I gave blood in high school, and the idea of my doctor's office taking blood is too close to the idea of giving blood for comfort. More likely, I've never looked forward to going to the doctor because nobody looks forward to going to the doctor. What's to look forward to?

Food: we cook it, we eat it, and then we’re done.

Well, not quite. Like the good folk milling around the Tower of Babel, we also spend a great deal of time talking about it, except that we’re not always speaking the same language.

Food is, both figuratively and literally, on everyone’s lips and the discussion has never been so deep or widespread, providing fodder for everyone from filmmakers and politicians to home cooks and bloggers, who all have something different to say about what we eat. The array of issues is so dizzying, it’s enough to make you toss your salad.

Spring may be just around the corner, but first we have to live through the rest of winter. Many Minnesotans try to cut it short by escaping to a warm-weather destination. But if the bad economy means that you’ll have to skip your annual trip to the beach this year, then there’s no way around it: you’re stuck here, and you’ll have to tough it out.