There is a steak in my fridge that expired four days ago, but it seems all right
to me. I take a hesitant whiff and detect no putrid odor of rotting flesh, no
oozing, fetid cow juice - just the full-bodied aroma of well-aged meat. A feast
for one; I retrieve my frying pan. This is not an isolated experiment or a sad
symptom of my radical frugality. With a spirit of teenage rebellion, I
disavow any regard for expiration dates. The fact is that expiration
dates mean very little. Food starts to
deteriorate from the moment it is harvested, butchered, or processed, but the
rate at which it spoils depends less on time than on the conditions under which
it is stored. Moisture and warmth are especially detrimental. A package of
ground meat, say, will stay fresher longer if placed near the coldest part of a
refrigerator (below 40 degrees Fahrenheit), than next to the heat-emitting light
bulb. Besides, as University of Minnesota food scientist, Ted Labuza explained
to me, expiration dates address quality - optimum freshness - rather than safety
and are extremely conservative. To account for all
types of consumers, manufacturers imagine how the laziest people with the most
undesirable kitchens might store and handle their food, then test their products
based on these criteria.
With perishables like milk and meat, most responsible consumers (those who
refrigerate their groceries as soon as they get home, for instance) have a
three-to-seven-day grace period after the "Sell by" date has elapsed. As for
pre-packaged greens, studies show that nutrient loss in vegetables is linked to
a decline in appearance. When your broccoli florets yellow or your green beans
shrivel, this signals a depletion of vitamins. But if they have not lost their
looks, ignore the printed date. Pasta and rice will taste fine for a year.
Unopened packs of cookies are edible for months before the fat oxidizes and they
turn rancid. Pancake and cake mixes have at least six months. Canned items are
potentially the safest foods around and will keep five years or more if stored
in a cold pantry. Labuza recalls a seven-year-old can of chicken chunks he ate
recently. "It tasted just like chicken," he said.
Not only are expiration dates misleading, but there is no uniformity in
their inaccuracy. Some manufacturers prefer the elusive "Best if used by",
others opt for the imperative "Use by" and then there are those who litter their
goods with the most unhelpful "Sell by" stamps. Such disparities are a
consequence of the fact that, with the exception of infant formula and some baby
foods, package dates are unregulated by the federal government. And while some
states do exercise oversight, there is no standardisation. A handful of states,
including Massachusetts and West Virginia, and Washington, D.C., require dating
of some form for perishable foods. Twenty states insist on dating for milk
products, but each has distinct regulations. Milk heading
for consumers in Connecticut must bear a "Sell by" date not more than 12 days
from the day of pasteurisation. Dairies serving Pennsylvania must conform to 14
days.
Expiration dates are intended to inspire confidence, but they only invest us
with a false sense of security. The reality is that the onus lies with consumers
to judge and maintain the freshness and edibility of their food - by checking
for offensive slime, rank smells, and off colors. Perhaps, then, we should do
away with dates altogether and have packages equipped with more instructive
guidance on properly storing foods, and on detecting spoilage. Better yet, we
should focus our efforts on what really matters to our health - not spoilage
bacteria, which are fairly docile, but their malevolent counterparts:
disease-causing pathogens like salmonella and Listeria, which infect the food we
eat not because it is old but as a result of unsanitary conditions at factories
or elsewhere along the supply chain. A new system that could somehow prevent the
next E.coli outbreak would be far more useful to consumers than a fairly
arbitrary set of labels that merely (try to) guarantee taste. |