Another food borne illness has hit the scene, and sensationalist media has deemed it “the deadliest food outbreak in the United States in more than a decade.” This time it’s a Listeria outbreak tracked to cantaloupe from Colorado, which has caused up to 16 deaths. First, it’s important to put this in perspective – heart disease and cancer top the list, with diabetes not far behind, as causes for mortality in the US. And, yet, the nearly 2 million deaths each year linked to these diseases is no major news story. The deaths of the individuals in this instance can be directly attributed to consumption of produce, which is interesting when compared to the 1.8 million deaths that, at least in part, could have been prevented by a healthier diet that focuses on eating more fresh fruits and vegetables. This unfortunate contradiction – fruit can save your life or kill you – is confounding.
The risk of death from something that can save life is not necessarily the most important matter at hand. At issue are the intricacies and expansiveness of our current, conventional, global food system. Craig Wilson, food safety head for Costco summed it up in his interview for the LA Times about this recent outbreak when he said that “I don’t think the cantaloupe industry can continue on doing the very same thing and expecting a different result.” It is no stretch to extrapolate from this microcosmic example to say that the food industry in its entirety cannot continue as it is, and we may not expect anything better than repeated outbreaks and illnesses and the deaths of a growing number of people.
While produce companies and consumer advocates and government and research institutions call for increased regulations and testing and traceability, the industry ‘leaders’ have missed the mark. Imagine, if you will, the steps that a cantaloupe takes from Colorado to Florida, where at least one of the illnesses occurred. Melons are grown in a field irrigated from a stream downriver from a large hog operation, where one of the hogs has Listeria and their cesspool of excrement has overflowed into the river due to recent rains. Note here the introduction of the bacteria to the food supply. The cantaloupe is harvested in a field by field workers with minimal, but government approved, food handling training. And, since Listeria even lives in the human gut, the contamination may have originated with this undertrained laborer who forgot to wash his hands before handling your food. The fruit is then put in a truck and brought to a warehouse where it is washed in a vat of cool or tepid water. No matter of the temperature, since Listeria survives in high heat, drought, and under refrigeration temperatures.
Now, put on your microscope goggles (borrow mine if you like) and see all the microbes swimming through that tub from one single melon to the next and next and others beyond that – from one or ten to a dozen or thousands. Note this as the first spread of the disease, even with the minimally treated wash water (where only the strong survive). The warm, damp melons with a web of contoured surface area are then air cooled to a temperature determined by the government to be safe (even if the monitoring is suspect as is the standard itself). They are then loaded onto another truck by other untrained food handlers and brought to a warehouse where they rub shoulders alongside others of their ilk in storage. There may be at least one or two more repeated transfers like this with commingling and aggregation – each one a critical point in contagion – before the fruit reaches the grocery store or food service establishment a thousand miles away or more. Even the CDC and FDA cannot say where all of these tainted melons will go, because they were “sold and resold to many distributors across the nation” as reported on the AP wire.
At this point – and mark the time – it can be up to three or four weeks that this fruit came from the field with time for the germ to reproduce and spread further in warehouse after warehouse. Next, the grocery store stacks the fruit, maybe under a mister system where droplets from one melon find their way to another and so on, offering a convenient vehicle for continued spread. Or, the melon may find its way to a cutting board in the hospital, school, or restaurant kitchen, where a prep cook neglects to wash the fruit before cutting into it. Why bother, in fact, since the patient, student or customer won’t eat the rind anyway. But, as the blade slices through the skin, it can pick up any of the pathogens and carry those with it to the flesh and through the juice onto the cutting board where it can contaminate other fruit. Now, conspiracy theorists can claim that intentional contamination could occur at any point in this process, but realists know that incidental contamination in a lengthy, complex system such as this is much more likely.Next comes the actual illness.
Listeria has a gestation period of seven days to several weeks. After a month in transport and storage, assume that another ten days passes since an individual consumed the tainted fruit, and goes to the doctor with flu-like symptoms. Ultimately, the tests come back positive for food-borne illness, and this diagnosis is reported to the regional health department and then to the CDC. The CDC catalogues this incident along with a few other reports from other areas, and several days after that, an outbreak is identified. The patients’ food histories are recorded through an interview process and the scientists and researchers work to determine the actual source by comparing the individual food intake logs to uncover commonalities. Then, the trace-back process begins so the actual starting point can be determined. A series of tests on tomatoes, herbs, peppers, fruits, and other produce reported by most of the victims as having been recently consumed confirms that the culprit is indeed the sprouts. The media is alerted and a national food-scare begins. Further testing and conjecture, though, reveals that cucumbers are to blame, damning another crop. But, finally, the scientists find the real cause – the cantaloupe from Colorado. At this point, several weeks or more after harvest, the food recall can begin in earnest.
The grocery stores search their warehouse records, the broker scours its distribution logs, the farms must review their sales receipts – all of this to discover that the cantaloupe has been distributed to 20 different states and an untold number of consumers. Through a series of document reviews and public announcements, about 40% of the melons are finally found and discarded. The rest have already been eaten or are sitting on an unnoticed grocery store shelf or family breakfast table, waiting to sicken more people. After the industry reps and scientists and government regulators argue about which link in the chain was the weak one – did the disease initiate in the store? at one of the warehouses? in a truck? or, on the farm? – the farmer ultimately gets the blame and has to close up shop, going out of business and losing everything. Let me pose a question, that will help get me to the point: why would a man in Bexar County in South Texas get sick from Colorado cantaloupe? The fruit is abundant in that part of south Texas, and – even in severe drought years – it is being harvested this time of year near the man’s home in San Antonio!
Some may suggest that stricter industry standards, additional government regulations, stronger chemicals in the wash water, further training of field workers and food handlers, advanced technology to trace food from field to plate, or even more government funded research into things like irradiation of our food could solve the problem. Imagine, however, the costs associated with all this, and consider the already high price tag that prevents many people from consuming nutritious fruits and vegetables. This is where the conventional food system shows its intrinsic flaws – too many links in the chain, too many weak points, too many variables that cannot be controlled, and no other solution than to add further complexity.
The man in Bexar County could have chosen a cantaloupe from his local farmer instead. There is no guarantee that this melon would be absent of bacteria. But, if the supply chain is shortened and the distribution system is localized, traceability is improved and fewer “critical control points” are introduced. At this point in time, perhaps localized food production cannot supply ample nutrition to our growing population. But, if starting now more individual consumers can direct their food dollars to that community-centered system, we can strengthen not only our food safety but our local economies and cultures. Supply will follow demand. And, we have an opportunity to take the arrogance of the conventional food industry scientists, regulators, and researchers, who think they can ensure safety at every point in a complex system, and turn it into confidence in building a better food supply.
Read this post as a call for less university and government investment in the flawed system and more research and support for small local farms, local and regional distribution mechanisms, and promotion of locally grown fruits and vegetables. Instead of dumping money into figuring out a new chemical cleaning agent for food, direct this effort to establishing more farmers’ markets. Rather than inventing a new food irradiation machine, invest in season extension methods like greenhouses and high tunnels for areas where farmers struggle with cold winter months. And, take the money and man-hours spent on field worker training and computerized tracking systems and trade it for training of new farmers and for preserving farm land near cities and towns. Forget the dense, tangled, unnavigable forest that is our current food system. Plant and nurture a life-giving tree close to home.
