Recipe for disaster

So, in answering the initial breakfast question, didn't ponder your mood, the cook, the phases of the moon. Imagine all things being equal and choose. Fill awkward silences by tossing out the inquiry in a group and watch toss favoring waffles look askance at the French toast group. Watch pancake fans shake their head at Team Waffle. Don't even think about asking if anybody likes oatmeal. The vitriol that question brings is unbelievable. Oatmeal is either a gastronomic godsend for cold mornings by a fire or the equivalent of gooey baby food. Never the two shall meet.

And please, don't dare ask about berries. I'll have to admit my strong aversion to strawberries, a sheepish confession that usually leaves me labeled a fruit heathen. My only cohort, it seems, is that same anti-tomato/cheese pal who can't stand the lizard-like texture of the strawberry seeds. I don't quite follow that logic but in the realm of food fights, one finds allegiance any place possible.

Brand names and fast food bring their own set of debate. Coke or Pepsi is only seconded by the intense rivalry of new versus classic Coke. Sorry, Pepsi Clear. You never stood a chance. In past weeks, half of America celebrated McDonald's 50th birthday while those hanging out at Burger King probably wondered what is the big deal. Those willing to drive miles for an In-N-Out double-double cheered wildly when a franchise opened up in Millbrae while connoisseurs of Wendy's chili crawled a little further in the closet with each new twist to Finger-gate.

Entire Venn diagrams of food identity can winnow a given set down to an individual. People are quick to label others based on politics, faith, education and aesthetics but those differentiations do not carry as much weight in day-to-day living as the line between those who actually like Girl Scout Cookies and those who'd rather have a Pepperidge Farm double-chocolate Milano.

With all this emphasis placed on provisions, then, it is more than a little strange that the government has unveiled a new food pyramid lacking in, well, actual food. After years of horizontal bands showing grains, meat, veggies and oil in an easily readable graphic, the country's nutritional honchos want us to digest an inter-active program resplendent with multi-colored vertical stripes and a figure climbing stairs.

The response to the new plan has been less-than-stellar. A few food consultants have been quoted as saying the pyramid shows that the key to good health is embracing an alternative lifestyle and exercising rather than eating well. Maybe "Queer Eye for the Rib-Eye?"

My problem is that the chart doesn't actually label any of the colors so I don't know if I'm eating too much orange or not enough green. Waffles, pancakes and French toast most likely fall under one hue but is it that vast stripe of blue or the tiny line of yellow? I know the brilliant governmental minds have a lot on their plates but it shouldn't be too much to expect that four years of work and $2.4 million might have whipped up a more self-explanatory plan.

Maybe, secretly, the government doesn't want to promote healthy eating. That way residents will get lazy and slow-witted and stop asking silly questions about weapons of mass destruction and the future of social security. The idea isn't so half-baked; after all, President Ronald Reagan's administration once labeled ketchup as a vegetable for school lunches. It didn't, however, tell us which brand the Gipper preferred.

In a nutshell (almond? pistachio? walnut?) the food pyramid brou-haha illustrates again the importance of food in society. Unfortunately, what the design needs to illustrate is actual food. To do anything else is creating a recipe for disaster, even for those who optimistically see the glass as half-full no matter with which milk it is filled with.

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.