It sounds like something Shrek would have for dinner. Or something absurd from a Dickens book, like adding chalk to bread. But is adding horse meat to burgers really for appearance sake? Or is it another example of the trust we have in supermarkets that we rarely question their motives?
If horse meat was popular in the restaurant set, Tesco would be shouting from the rooftops that they could emulate the foodie fashion pioneers. But they’ve hidden their dirty secret. I think failing to include it on the list of ingredients should be criminal. It’s not so much what they’ve done, but the way they’ve done it. Supermarkets seem to be constantly revealing skeletons in the closet. I remember a time when no one knew about the living accommodations of chickens and the supermarkets made sure nobody cared. It’s only when they are caught that the apologies start to fly. It beggars believe that even the company do not know what their products contain. The thought sickens me.
I am lucky that I don’t buy a lot of pre-packed products as most of them contain gluten. But if I did, I would want to know exactly what was in them so I knew what I was putting into my body. It baffles me that so many people are in blissful ignorance about the chemicals and goodness knows what else they ingest. It’s not food, it’s a science experiment.
The latest scandal from the supermarkets only fuels my desire to ban them from my life once and for all. The delights of the farmer’s market will fill my stores twice a month. Then I have recently discovered an independent health food store within walking distance that provides organic and fair-trade produce. And this weekend, we are driving to the local farm shop to see what seasonal, sustainable food we can pick up there. I hope to find a bus route near it so that I won’t have to rely on my housemate to drive me there bi-weekly.
It can be done and I think the food we eat everyday is worth putting that extra effort in to. I’m going to strive towards putting my money into shops I believe in, not lining the pockets of the fat-cat supermarket owners. Who’s with me?