Welcome to Gut Check, our column dedicated to the complex, ever-evolving relationship between food and our bodies. Whether you’re curious about mindful eating or want to understand what makes picky eaters picky, read on and let award-winning journalist Betsy Andrews answer all your burning questions.
The last time I ever ate at one of my old, go-to lunch spots, a Manhattan restaurant favorably reviewed in the The New York Times, I ended up desperately ill. I blame the aïoli that came with the roast chicken, which I loved so much I always asked for extra. The cashier would scoop a handful of unrefrigerated plastic ramekins from a tub behind the register and dump them in my bag. One day, that sauce laid me flat for 48 hours, in between bouts in the bathroom. My partner considered taking me to the emergency room.
It was the second-worst case of food poisoning I ever had, and I tell you about it because, really, food poisoning can happen anywhere. If conditions exist for the growth of food-borne microbes that your body has few immunities to, you can get sick thousands of miles away or in your own hometown.
That’s why it’s unhelpful to stigmatize places like Mexico, where I had a run-in with E.coli. I was in a village near Puebla researching mole poblano and made some traveler’s mistakes, including drinking Hi-C made with tap water and spooning fresh salsa onto the mole. I knew better, and I forgot myself
