The USDA Food Pyramid

The US Department of Agriculture has been issuing food recommendations for more than a century, dating back to 1894.  It published bulletins, guide books, posters, pamphlets, and other materials with varied consumer acceptance over the years.  In the early 1980’s the USDA decided a move from text to graphics was desirable.  The Food Wheel was published in 1984, but was not widely received.  In 1992 the USDA conducted consumer studies to help determine how an updated guide should look, and the Food Pyramid was born; at least that is the official story.

I happen to be privy to the real story behind the 1992 Food Pyramid.  In undertaking their research about appropriate food guidance, the USDA researchers identified skiers as a statistically very healthy demographic.  The USDA sent researchers into the field to learn skier dietary habits with the expectation that transferring these habits to the general population would increase overall health.  One of the researchers happened to encounter Alberto, “Big Al,” enjoying a pie slice at Hunter Mountain.

The researcher introduced himself to Big Al, and told him about the USDA research findings and asked Big Al if he could ask him questions about being a skier and his dietary habits.  Big Al said, “sure,” and asked the researcher if he would like a pie slice while they talked.  The researcher said, “no, I better not.”

The researcher started with a somewhat broad question about what foods skiers needed to enjoy the sport and ski well.  The researcher was quite pleased to learn Big Al was very food savvy and articulate.

“You see, skiers need proteins, carbohydrates and fats in the right proportions; carbohydrates to burn early for quick energy, proteins for strength, and fats for endurance.”

To get to the next level of understanding, the researcher asked Big Al about the variety of foods he ate.  At this question, the researcher was confronted with a look of total confusion and consternation on Big Al’s face.

“The only food I need to eat to ski well is a pie slice.”

“A pie slice,” blurted the researcher questioningly. 

“Yeh, a pie slice, pizza.  It has all the necessary food groups in the right proportions.”

Needless to say, the researcher was now completely flummoxed.  Running through his mind was the incredulous prospect of reporting to his superiors that the skier population health statistics were based solely on eating pizza.  There was no way this could be true.  Maybe Big Al was just a statistical anomaly?

Recovering himself somewhat, the researcher asked Big Al to explain how his statement could be true.

“Well, it’s like building a house.  First you gotta have a good foundation.  That foundation is the pizza dough; Italian flour is best, Sicilian the best of the best.  The dough has to be mixed and worked by hand, no mixers, no rolling pins.  You take a piece of dough spread it with your fingertips.  To get the right consistency you flip the dough between your palms in between using your fingertips.  The pizza dough gives you some of your base carbohydrates.”

“For a different kind of carbohydrates, you apply a layer of crushed tomatoes to the dough.  You use only San Marzano tomatoes from Italy.”

“Next you add your protein layer …”

“Wait,” said the researcher.  “You’re telling me that a pizza slice is like building a house that has all the necessary foods in it.  No, this cannot be,” he continued.

Big Al reached for a paper napkin and took out a pen.  He drew a large oval on the paper napkin and labeled it “dough.”  Next Big Al drew a somewhat smaller oval that overlaid the big oval and labeled it “tomato sauce.”  Continuing he drew a yet smaller oval and labeled it “vegetables.”

The researcher asked, “what do you mean by vegetables?”

“Onions, green pepper, red pepper, garlic, mushrooms, zucchini, sliced tomatoes, anything you want from the garden.  It has to be fresh.  More carbohydrate.”

“Next you add your meat protein, sausage, pepperoni, ham, chicken, Canadian bacon.  Some people like hamburger,” drawing yet another smaller overlapping oval but drawing a line down its middle.

Big Al labeled one half of the split oval “meat,” and the other “cheese.”

“You can cover the pie with any kind of cheese, but mozzarella first, then any combination of Parmigiano-Reggiano, Asiago, Gorgonzola, Fontina, Pecorino; it’s a long list of options.  You want only authentic Italian cheeses.”

Drawing a yet smaller overlapping oval, some tomato sauce fell onto the drawing.  “Sorry.”  Big Al labeled the oval “fats” and continued,

“Last you add some fat; olives and olive oil are best, real Italian olive oil.  You can use any of the different flavor olive oils you find in different regions of Italy. 

“Finally, you sprinkle your spices on the pie, oregano, basil, rosemary, thyme, fennel.  You can add fresh basil leaves.”

The researcher thought he had an opportunity to throw Big Al off and asked, “what about fruits?”

“I have a Hawaiian pie sometimes, ham and pineapple.”

The researcher was completely dumbfounded.  He had gotten a lot of answers, none of which he expected.  Thanking Big Al for the education, the researcher astutely folded Big Al’s napkin and put it in his pocket.   He knew Big Al had given him something extremely valuable, not about pizza but about food groups.

The researcher thanked Big Al for spending so much time with him, and for his “wisdom.”  His parting question to Big Al was, “are you from Italy?”

“Nah, South Jersey.”

When the researcher returned to Washington, DC, and met with his colleagues and superiors, he carefully unfolded Big Al’s drawing and explained it.  They all soon realized that if it was ever known that a skier had in such a short time drawn such a drawing while eating a pie piece, research funds would be cut and the USDA would be politically embarrassed.  It was directed at the highest levels that Big Al’s drawing, tomato splotch and all, be preserved under glass and sent to the secret government document repository under Mt. Weather, never again to see the light of day.

That’s the real story behind the USDA Food Pyramid and why pizza is skiing’s foundational food.

The historical religious schisms spanning literally thousands of years have nothing on the great pizza schisms … Sicilian thick crust, New York thin crust, Argentinian twice-baked crust, Neapolitan, Chicago, and innumerable others.  (I wonder if anyone has ever tried to enumerate every different style and articulate the differences?)

My friend Robert used to own a pizza and pasta restaurant in Berkeley.  As a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, which was obvious the moment you entered, the only available pizza style was also obvious.  If an unknowing Cal student wandered into Bobby G’s and asked for a piece of deep-dish pizza, he or she quickly learned that all mandatory lectures did not necessarily take place on campus.  But then I never heard of anyone walking away from Robert’s pizza.

I met Robert when we both lived in Los Angeles.  We played on a softball team together.  The first time we went for pizza after a game I received the lecture.  Of course, where we went only offered New York thin crust.

Robert was aghast to learn that Jeri, Cody, Nancy and I sometimes went to Chicago Pizza on Pico Boulevard for deep-dish.  The chefs kept barrels of pickled jalapeno peppers on hand because they knew when we came for pizza we expected a ready supply.  We all learned from Cody that a proper pizza slice is completely covered with jalapenos, sometimes double thickness.  We all had perspiration on our foreheads after a bite or two but what a combination.  Maybe the pizza was just an agar plate for jalapenos.

Rich and Stan are close friends who for eighteen years made an annual week-long ski trip in February to Colorado from Washington, DC.  They would rent a condominium in or around Dillon/Silverthorne, giving them ready access to Loveland, Copper, Keystone, Breckenridge, Arapahoe Basin, and over the pass to Vail and Beaver Creek.  Some years I would join Rich and Stan, sleeping on the couch.  We would cook in most nights, but one night in the week we would drive through the Eisenhower Tunnel to Idaho Springs to Beau Jo’s for Colorado Mountain Pizza.  Idaho Springs was once a mining town and there is a closed mine shaft entrance adjacent to the main dining room inside Beau Jo’s.

The outside crust of a Beau Jo’s pizza puffs up about three inches in baking creating a collar, the containment system, that is light and airy inside.  Your choice of pizza toppings is arrayed in the center, surrounded by the dough collar.  After you have eaten the center you tear off a piece of the outside crust and eat it with honey.  Every table in Beau Jo’s has a jar of locally-sourced honey on it.  

If you are ever on Interstate 70 near Indian Springs, a stop at Beau Jo’s is a singular treat not to be missed and, after all, pizza of any style is the quintessential foundational skier food group.

[A friend e-mailed me to ask if he could share these posts with others.  Absolutely, whether skier or non-skier, please share; the more, the merrier.]

[Prior posts are available in the Archive.]