by Michael Hood
The scandal first erupted in the '70s, when inflation and meat prices jumped up like Frankenstein, putting poor people into the first protein crunch since the Depression. The horse meat store in the Pike Place Market re-opened and Longacres began supplying filet mignon at 79 cents a pound to the elderly, the hippies and others strong of heart but short in the drawers. Glue prices skyrocketed, book binderies went idle and the price of books doubled - showing how the eating of horse meat can cause illiteracy as well as despair.
An even more controversial, cheap protein source for the poor during that time was dog food. "It's balanced and lovely," its proponents would say. Their claims of new health and vitality, brighter eyes and a shinier, fuller coat were put off by critics' complaints of "puppy-breath."
The middle class was shocked to think that our elderly had come to this. (They didn't give a damn about the hippies, of course.)
Church groups started leaving cat food at senior citizen centers because the packaging tended to be in softer colors and not as rustic as dog food bags. It was yangness they were shooting for and, as usual, they satisfied themselves.
With the return of harsh economic times, a pet food scandal has erupted again in Seattle.
Even though pet food is available, nutritious, inexpensive, always couponable - it even makes its own gravy - it cannot be purchased with food stamps.
"And it never will be," said a worker we interviewed at the state Department of Health and Human Services, who preferred to be known only as the State's Liaison with the Human Race. "It's unwholesome and it reflects directly upon everybody."
Advocates for the Reflected Upon respond: "If you can buy Trader Vic's Tom & Jerry Batter with food stamps, why not this nearly complete diet for pennies on the dollar?" They have a valid point, especially since nobody drinks Tom & Jerrys anymore.
Snide elitists, spurred on at obscenely lavish cocktail parties thrown by the food industry, brand pet food as "the nearly nutritious for the nearly normal."
Amid all this controversy, thoughtful people have some thoughtful questions:
What's the real nutritional skookum on this food?
Kibble? What is it and why do they call it that?
Cat food or dog food? Which is right for you?
Which wine should be drunk with which pet food?
If you eat pet food, what do you feed your pets?
Gourmet corner: What about fish food, bird seed, lizard chow ...?
Vegetarians: Cow food, horse food ...?
Is canned corned beef really dog food?
The Free Press' Consumer Investigative Team and Test Kitchen staff took on the task of answering these and other questions. Here are some results:
Cat food may be better for you. It has up to 10 percent more protein - if that's what you want. Often, "protein" is listed simply as "meat." But we all know how much of this is provided, as always, by poor people's perennial friends, Mr. Horse and Se–or Chicken (a.k.a. poultry by-product meal).
Large animals that become pet food are ground and used whole. This is known as "crude protein," and indeed it is - hooves, eyelashes and the occasional saddle often are included. Cat food has anywhere from 16 to 32 percent of this protein and only 4 percent fiber.
Dogs need more fiber and so do you. Corn meal, Brewer's rice and wheat germ meal can help a pup get his required fiber. Lots of bone meal and peanut shells can, too. Sound healthy? It is. Plus, that bone meal is good sprinkled on popcorn! Many poor people eat it straight from the bag like TV snacks (except, of course, that few of them have TVs).
A good brand of cat food, like DeliCat , has a real variety of animal products - turkey and beef by-products, fish meal, dried cheese, dried liver. Things a poor person might never be able to afford any other way.
Canned pet foods are a rip-off because they're 78 to 83 percent water. But if your feeling creative - meatloaf 'em!
Even if you aren't poor and aren't on food stamps, you can still enjoy these excellent food products. Here's a recipe from our Research Kitchen.
Remember, there's no way you can cover up or remove that pet food flavor. It's unique. So are you. Go with it.
Bourguignonne of the Baskervilles
Friskie's Sauce Cubes (follow directions for 15-pound dog; set aside)
10 large mushrooms, sliced
1 large carrot, diced
5-6 large shallots, diced
2 ribs of celery, diced
3 oz. sun-dried tomatoes, finely chopped
1 tbsp each dried tarragon, thyme
1 cup beef (or horse) stock
A little oil
2 bottles dubious Burgundy (use one, drink one)
Sautˇ the mushrooms, shallots and celery in a little oil, then throw in the wine, tomatoes, herbs, stock and carrots. Simmer for an hour. Toss together with the Sauce Cubes and heat. Serve with steamed tiny new potatoes. Bon apetit!
Wine suggestion: Plenty of it.
Michael Hood is a freelance writer who lives in Seattle.
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Contents on this page were published in the May, 1993 edition of the Washington Free Press.
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Copyright © 1993 WFP Collective, Inc.