It all started at a roadside gas station somewhere in the middle of New Mexico. We had just packed up camp – headed to our next stop in the annual family road trip. Todd stopped to gas up and I went inside looking for a little breakfast. There at the cash register wrapped in waxy white paper sealed with a sticker was an item labeled Breakfast Burrito. I picked up one of the warm packages, it felt heavy for it’s size. The ingredients list: eggs, sausage, cheese, potato, and green chili.
“Made fresh this morning, a lady down the street brings them in every morning.” The guy behind the register smiled.
“Hmm,” I responded. “How much?”
“Sold.” I paid and exited unwrapping the still steaming treat.
By the time Todd popped back in the car, I was moaning in delight.
“This is the best thing I have ever tasted.”
He examined the now crumpled wrapper. “I see you popped your chile cherry.” Todd went to college in New Mexico and had told me about the lure of the hatch chile.
“Oh my God, this is delicious.” I held it up for him to take a bite.
“I’m going to get one for myself.” He mumbled through his full mouth.
That day it started. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Burritos swimming in ‘Christmas Style’, half red, half green. I waited anxiously for the question at every restaurant, “Red or Green?” I liked the green better, but the red certainly had it’s charm.
This chile was magic. Sweet, hot, savory yum. After leaving New Mexico, I searched for anything that tasted even remotely the same. Not to be found. I wanted more, and Todd in usual fashion, would deny me nothing. He hopped on-line and ordered us up a batch from the fall harvest. They arrived a few days later. Carefully packed, frozen. Half hot, half medium I laid out a couple bags to de thaw and stored the rest on a shelf in the freezer. We made Posole, Green chile sauce, hatch corn muffins, chile cheese burgers.
Then it happened, stomach issues. A pain shooting right through my middle, radiating through my back. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or get rid of the pain. For two weeks I suffered while every test imaginable was performed to determine the cause. Blood tests, X-rays, scopes, and scans revealed nothing. With no diagnosis the docs shook their heads GERD, they said. Lay off the spicy food, alcohol, take antacids was their only advice.
The shooting pain like a knife in my chest subsided on the prescription strength antacids. I had to give up my sweet, sweet love, the hatch green chile was now out of bounds. Banned from my diet, I suffered watching my family revel in the green chile sauce. My recipe was perfected over the numerous times I created a batch. Each batch, a little different, was always delicious. And I couldn’t eat a bit of it without painful ramifications.
But now after dealing with this GURD for a couple years, I learned a few things. I have cut flour, pasta, most cheese, and eat basically meats and veggies, sometimes fruits. Curious why these things could be causing such painful results, I did some research.
Seems there has been a 50% increase in GERD type systems according to the largest study done on that sort of thing. This site reports Bacillus thuringiensis (BT) used even in organic farming could be the culprit, and further states:
“new research has suggested the use of Roundup in GMO (a pesticide) crops contain plant-derived xenoestrogens that have been linked to carcinogenic transformation through the disruptions of humanhormonal metabolism. You are basically bombarding your digestive system with undesirable amounts of estrogen-promoting hormones. And they are saying obesity is the likely cause.”
So great, how are we supposed to know which foods have been treated. There are no labeling standards. I mean this stuff could lead to terrible diseases, in particular esophageal cancer.
So not only has these GMO’s caused the loss of my beloved pepper, I can’t even be sure what foods are altered, or what pesticides are being used. While 60 countries around the world mandate labeling, the US does not.