October 01, 2024

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DO YOU KISS YOUR DOG?

I admit it, when it comes to food, I have some eeew-inducing practices, like skimming mold off old cheddar and feeding the rest to my unsuspecting family. We're still alive, so how bad can it be? Because our gross human habits fall somewhere along the spectrum from mildly cringeworthy to full-on repulsive, I reached out to experts to find out where some common behaviors land on the gross-o-meter. EATING OLD FOOD ▶ The stamped expiration date—and its confusing cousins “use by” and “best before”—should be but one tool in your hmm-should-I-eat-this? toolbox. “With the exception of infant formula, food labels aren't standardized or regulated,” says nutritionist Marie Spiker, an assistant professor at the University of Washington. “Few are related to biology or food safety—just peak freshness.” And so, she says, it's totally fine and safe to eat foods that are not at their exact peak. Handling, packaging, refrigeration and storage all affect any food's farmto-plate timeline, so your best tools are your eyes and nose. “Most of the time, this is intuitive,” says Spiker. “If it looks good and smells good, it's probably good.” Not sure? Consider this: “Spores spread through soft, porous surfaces. So in general, hard foods are more difficult to permeate and therefore safer to eat,” she says. Don't trust your sense of smell or sight? Check out the FDA's website, where food safety guidelines are available. So you probably should toss the whole package if you spot mold on bread, soft cheeses like Brie and feta, or soft produce such as strawberries. But it's not too gross to slice off the funky stuff and save the rest of potatoes, cured meat like salami, or hard cheeses like my beloved cheddar.

SWITCHED

Rita Hynes lugged her pregnant body up the rural hospital's wooden steps. It was the night of 7 December 1962, and her rounded belly tightened with each contraction. At the hospital, she felt the intensifying crests of pain—at first bearable, then searing as the night wore on. Just after midnight, the cries of her new baby pierced the air. A boy! She named him Clarence Peter Hynes. He was deposited in the hospital's nursery and tucked into a bassinet, while Rita dozed in the women's ward.Clarence, whom everyone calls Clar, grew up in a Canadian fishing town, St. Bernard's, perched on the edge of Fortune Bay in the North Atlantic island province of Newfoundland. His father, Ches, was a fisherman, and Clar was the first in a steady stream of infants to arrive at the Hyneses' home. Clar slept in a top bunk in a room he shared with his brothers. They were fairer than he was—Clar had a toasty complexion and a head of thick, dark hair. He grew to become a local heartthrob, with a chiselled brow and lean, muscular frame. When he drove his navy blue Chevy Camaro around town, the teenage girls of St. Bernard's swooned. At age 24, Clar met a woman named Cheryl at a motel bar in Marystown, farther down the boot-shaped peninsula from where he grew up. She was the belle of the bar, and he was instantly smitten. As the two talked over beers and glasses of rum and 7Up,Cheryl found him attentive and kind. They danced and chatted the night away. She didn't want it to end. They were married two years later in Marystown's white, steepled Anglican church. Rita was diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer a few years later, at 50. Clar nursed her as a mother would a baby. He held her and rocked her in his childhood bungalow on the hill, making sure to face a window on the ocean so she could see the waves. Rita also stayed with Clar and Cheryl at their home in the provincial capital, St. John's, during her futile cancer treatments. Clar spoonfed his mother bowls of fish and potatoes. He spent day after day with her right up until the end, so she would never be alone. Five years after that, lung cancer took Clar's father. Clar and Cheryl raised three children of their own. By 2014, Clar was a wel ding foreman at Bull Arm, where employees were building an oil platform