I am a clutter junky. My mind, like my pantry, is over-flowing with superfluous items that could not possibly be used up if I lived to be one-hundred or wrote a thousand articles. I feel the need to spring clean my brain; merely sweeping this rubbish under the carpet won’t suffice. It needs to be carried out to the road.

            It was hard to know where to start; I have accumulated so many files and piles of by now ragged and yellowing newspaper clippings and illegible hand-written scribbles on post-it notes and paper bags. I decided to tackle the most onerous; an article started almost 3 years ago on hemp, the wonder crop.

            Not only does hemp produce a healthy oil, rich in essential amino acids and omega-6, the plant is a wonderful source of fibre for clothing and paper. I did a fully controlled, scientific study using my sons, first the hemp ice cream and then hemp waffles. Neither were a hit. Then there were the clothes—“But you have to iron these!”— followed by the hand cream and shampoo. These were all OK; expensive, but OK. I still have a rather dear and likely rancid bottle of hemp oil in the fridge which did make a fabulous orange juice vinaigrette, once.

            What should have been a relatively painless and simple article ran away from me. I began to read about sustainable agriculture and biodiversity, and suddenly it became more of a political statement. I became so overwhelmed that I filed it away labelled: “To be opened when I get my PhD.”

            However, I must say this to hemp proponents: get rid of the hippy-drug-alternative affiliation. If you really want to save the rainforests, try marketing hemp without the marijuana leaf logo, and definitely not in stores with names like “Hemporium” or “The Hemperor’s New Clothes.”

            Another simple question that turned into the monster that ate it: “What is cultured butter?” This is the butter common in Europe made from cream that has been fermented by special bacteria, making it sweeter and more flavourful.  I quickly found myself off on a tangent about lactose intolerance, my mind whipping around like butter in a churn. I labelled that file: “Open when more focused.”

            As I dug further into my “research,” wondering why I had kept an old TV listing and a Dr. Donahue column, “Painful condition can cause infertility,” I began to seriously doubt my intelligence.

             “Italy has issued strict guidelines to protect the real Neapolitan pizza from bogus copies,” “Makers of famous Emmenthal cheese looking to guard name,” and more recently, a report that the Canadian pork industry has declared that as of January 1, 2005, pork tenderloin must be labelled sirloin. I need to get a life.

            I must have planned to poke fun at the “Calorie Restriction Society,” a group who exist eating only lettuce. I now realize that wouldn’t be fair; they wouldn’t have the strength to fight back. After re-reading another keeper, an article on foods that improve your memory, I remembered that eating strawberries can “prevent mental confusion.” Perhaps I shouldn’t be hasty about throwing that one away. Another article reported a study that proved if you could convince yourself a particular food had made you ill as a child, you could create an aversion to it as an adult. I’ve  tried repeating, “French fries made me sick, French fries made me sick,” without any positive results.

            I found one clipping that must be a joke because surely any reputable institute would not admit to funding a study that concluded: Stress ages women!

            Just last week, I added a new snippet to my cache; archaeologists in China discovered that sticky rice was used to hold together parts of the Great Wall. I am not making this up; I’ll save that article just in case you don’t believe me.

            I keep all the government food recalls stored on my computer. Recently, there has been a flurry of food recalls by Canadian and British food inspection agencies, of foods containing Sudan I, a dye proven to be a carcinogen. I was intrigued by this particular warning because one of the foods recalled is Rice Toonies Pizza Flavour Rice Crackers. I personally think anyone eating a product called that should be recalled!  What I found most amusing was the difference in the phrasing of the warnings from the two different countries.  Where our government is issuing a stern “Do not consume,” the British say, “There is no risk of immediate ill health but it is sensible to avoid eating any more.” Sensible? You think that anyone who buys Rice Toonies Pizza Flavour Rice Crackers is sensible?

              Finally, just like the Academy Awards show, I have two obituaries. One is for Rosa Cardini, daughter of Cesare Cardini, the man given credit for inventing the Caesar salad. She spent her entire life protecting the authenticity of her father’s original recipe, trying unsuccessfully to get it patented. The other is for Henry Saglio, the man credited as the father of the perfect commercial chicken, the White Rock hen: white-feathered, early maturing, with extra white meat. I’m not so sure I’d want to be known as the father of the Family Pack.

            Phhhew! That feels good. I feel so unencumbered. Sorry for dumping all this junk on you, but I do believe in recycling.