“Be careful of the steps.”
“Get out and walk for five minutes.”
“1,354 calories.”
Such was life during my four days in London last week. Innumerable precautions, suggestions, and ‘useful information’ litter the streets, hotels, and menus across the pond, all in the name of “public health and safety.” As someone with sensitivities to a whole host of ingredients, I appreciated being asked, “Do you have any food allergies?” every time I sat down to eat. However, at a certain point, the attention to my well-being became more than a tad annoying.
Take, for example, my final dinner in the city: a salad with tuna and anchovies. When the waitress asked for my allergies, I told her: soy sauce, fish sauce, oyster sauce. Essentially, any brown sauce usually found in Asian food preparations. I won’t die from those ingredients, but the next day I will feel like I drank a bottle of vodka. Given it was an authentic Italian restaurant, I figured I was safe. Usually, the only condiments and seasonings you’ll find in an Italian kitchen are olive oil, salt, and garlic, possibly some butter.
However, my companion that evening knew better. He looked at me as if to say do not tell her. He had been to the U.K. enough to predict that even though I told the waitress I’d be fine with tuna and anchovies—that the problem was fish sauce—that I would receive my salad without the protein. He was correct.
Because I dared to utter the word fish, the kitchen would not put anything resembling a sea creature on my plate.
Thus, I ended up eating lettuce and a hard-boiled egg. If it hadn’t been for the rigatoni made to perfection, I would have been quite upset.
The waitress told us that a customer had died in the restaurant due to an allergic reaction. While tragic, was that the restaurant’s fault?
At what point does public safety end and personal responsibility begin? Can we distinguish between transparency and paranoia?
To me, the answer is not black and white. For instance, I loved the fact that the ingredient lists in London were half the length of those in America and almost all readable, if not recognizable. The food there is, well, more real. Even the items at the Whole Foods salad bar seemed tastier and fresher than those available at U.S. locations.
The EU tends to prioritize consumer safety through precaution, strict additive control, GMO regulation, and comprehensive labeling, resulting in more stringent food standards. Historically, the U.S. emphasizes risk-based regulation, industry self-assessment (although that is beginning to change with promises to close the GRAS loopholes), and broader acceptance of additives and GMOs, which allows faster market entry but may pose higher long-term health risks.
Healthy food is also more affordable across the pond. Not only were the berries locally sourced and bursting with flavor, but they were also significantly cheaper than in the U.S. There was an article in The Washington Post earlier this month about the exorbitant price of berries here at home and how it’s breaking the bank for American households.
While most times I appreciate knowing the precise calories and macros of food at home, I really didn’t need to know that my gelato had 550 calories, of which almost 100% was sugar. Although it was a work trip, I was kind of on vacation health-wise. I was enjoying London and time with colleagues as well as making new friends, which included a few drinks. I turned off my food tracker. I didn’t need to be reminded that everything I ate would end up somewhere on my hips.
Or would it?
I crushed my step count. I never logged below 10,000 and maxed out at over 14,000 one day.
This is part of the “French paradox,” which shows that despite diets rich in saturated fats, the French experience lower rates of heart disease. Many credit this seeming paradox to increased walking, the more relaxed environment around eating, and even moderate consumption of red wine. Either that or higher saturated fat content and cholesterol have nothing to do with heart disease, but that is a story for another day.
Also, I believe portion size is another reason you don’t see many obese people walking the streets of London. Soda cans are smaller. Cheesecake Factory sized plates are nowhere to be found. You don’t walk out of restaurants feeling like you ate enough food to feed a family of four. You feel pleasantly satiated and typically finish the evening with a walk back to the hotel (or in my case, the gelato store).
These are wonderful things, and I wish America would take some cues from our brothers and sisters with lovely, if sometimes difficult-to-understand, accents.
However, I don’t need signs to tell me to be careful of steps, or to speak up if I “see something,” or to go out and take a walk. It began to feel a bit Big Brother-ish.
On the other hand, isn’t it better to have positive reinforcement for healthy habits as opposed to billboards for vaping or video games?
Through a huge social media campaign, our health and human services secretary is now directing Americans to eat real food and get active. Are these messages much different than those spread throughout London?
More than a few of my colleagues have complained about what they call “nanny state” health tactics. Considering what people went through during COVID-19 lockdowns, particularly the vaccination propaganda throughout parts of western Europe and New Zealand, I understand the knee-jerk reaction. A culture of care can easily cross into overreach—with good intentions eroding personal agency.
This is the fine line public policy must walk, particularly when it comes to MAHA initiatives. Precautionary protections issued by federal agencies must coexist with personal responsibility.
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that no matter what any country tells me is good for me, I’m returning home to my raw milk, fresh-off-the-farm eggs, and garden vegetables, even if I’m taking fewer steps.