Playdough Showdown: Fake vs. Natural but Unimpressive

Mr. Belligerently Artificial vs. Mr. Give-Me-Four-More

Sigh. Sometimes the right candidate doesn’t make such a strong showing. On occasion, the better politician is all downwards-looking, weak and vague, and even seems slightly embarrassed about his own record.

Sometimes such a candidate disappointingly lets every single opportunity for a zinger go by, and spends almost an entire debate talking about the flaws in his opponents’ phantasmagorical policy proposals rather than focusing on stonewalling he’s faced from his opponents’ partisans, or on, say, math.

And sometimes the artificial — even the utterly invented and commercially suspect — triumphs, in a brilliant show of plumage, like a peacock made only of lights and sound.

Such was the depressing outcome of my playdough showdown yesterday, pitting food dyes against natural colors for home-made playdough in a twisted mom’s homage to both the Presidential match-up and the playdough-like consistency of our national political debates.

When tasked several weeks ago by Maya’s preschool to make up a batch of brilliantly colored blue playdough for a color study, my research showed that blue in natural coloring is typically achieved by boiling red cabbage. Furthermore, it seems, sometimes this particular playdough retains a strong cabbage-y odor, or, in Thrifty Mama’s words, “really stinks” and is “tacky” in texture.

I will note that there is no odor on the blue dough from my wonderful Eco-Dough, which I gather also uses red cabbage, but they likely have fancy ways of extracting dyes that I do not.

Having no desire to stanky up the preschool, I violated my principles and ordered the most assertively blue food-dye I could find, which worked like a charm. If you’re gonna’ go fake, go big. It was blue, all right, and not at all smelly.

Since the kids are unlikely to eat the dough, I really didn’t feel that it posed much of a risk. (There is a lot of evidence generally that food dyes are terrible to actually consume, though they are fed to kids like, well, candy.)

Still, when a follow-up was given to me to tackle orange playdough, I couldn’t help but wonder about the natural alternatives to the small bottle of “peach” dye that came as part of the set. So I set up a head-to-head — an oh-so-titillating contest (I don’t get out much) between the dye and the power of paprika, which was recommended on several blogs for producing orange.

It looked good at first, with the bright orange paprika promising to school the buttoned-up bottle.

I used this basic recipe both times, which works really well. There are no-cook options, but the preschool teacher mentioned that the cooked ones have much more staying power.

Ingredients:

  • 1 cup flour
  • 1 cup water
  • 2 teaspoons cream of tartar
  • 1/3 cup salt
  • 1 tablespoon oil (I used olive, but suspect any oil would do)
  • natural or (gasp) artificial food coloring

Directions:

Add all the ingredients to a large pot (bigger the better) and stir over medium heat until it starts to clump around the spoon.

Add dye or coloring and stir a little more. You can — and even perhaps should by all rights — take it off the stove for a minute to let your assistant take a turn.

After a minute or two, remove from heat and scrape onto a cutting board. When cool enough, knead firmly until the color and consistency are uniform. Shoo kids away until you are done playing.

###As you can see, the paprika on the left, which was the good stuff from Bulgaria courtesy of my folks, produced a very disappointing light orange-ish hue, like pumpkin flavored pasta. On the other hand, the food dye, corrected with a squirt of the yellow that came in the same box, morphed into a convincing, if not bright, orange.

Ah well. We can’t win them all. And my little contest was, well, slightly less important than that other one.

It’s possible that I should have considered a third party for the platform — perhaps carrot juice works better? I suppose if you are using this at home, slightly orange-y might be fine next to other colors dyed with more assertive beets, berries and the like. (There are great ideas on this from one of my favorite crafty green bloggers here.)

In the end, I mushed it all together and bagged it up as orange enough. Punching the dough into a pliable mass was satisfying in between muttering at the television.

Still, it’s frustrating when the one you know to be best for the country stumbles a bit, and lets the insubstantial, chemical-laden candidate win the day.

Related articles:

Fermenting Dissent (with Determination, Cabbages and Salt)

Later this week, I’ll post about the news on toxics out of the U.S. Senate, which last week passed the Safe Chemicals Act out of committee on a party-line vote. I’m scanning the testimony, much of which is worth a gander. Really, the Safe Chemicals Act is a bit of a no-brainer, so it’s terribly disappointing to see partisan political deadlock on something so common-sense and fundamental to health.

Andy Igrejas, Campaign Director for Safer Chemicals, Healthy Families, wrote a great piece highlighting the problems for Republicans and the chemical industry if they continue obstructing progress on this issue. As he points out, educated consumer demand and our skepticism about the safety of products is a real threat to corporations when so many serious questions remain about the chemicals in our products and food. So keep asking questions, my friends, and letting the companies know we are all watching and taking names.

When life is such a mix of sweet and sour, that always feels like an invitation to pickle something. And over the weekend, a golden (or really purple) opportunity presented itself when my new pal Sharon offered to teach me how to make sauerkraut the old-fashioned way.

Here’s what the Nourishing Traditions cookbook says about the power of pickled cabbage:

Captain Cook loaded 60 barrels of sauerkraut onto his ship. After 27 months at sea, 15 days before returning to England, he opened the last barrel and offered some sauerkraut to some Portugese noblemen who had come on board….This last barrel was perfectly preserved after 27 months…and had also preserved sufficient quantities of vitamin C to protect the entire crew from scurvy.

Fermented foods are terrific for health, as they help to balance out the elaborate ecosystems in our gut. Traditional diets around the world use fermented foods far more frequently than we do in the Western diet, where half-limp dills tend to be the only sign of a once-robust spread of zingy condiments.

From kefir to kimchi to kombucha, miso to mango pickle, preserved lemons to pickled beets, fermented foodstuffs are commonplace in other cuisines, and are considered essential to good digestion. In my husband’s native India, meals typically included at least three kinds: intensely spiced pickles of many flavors, as well as fresh-made, live bacteria yogurt (or “curd”) and buttermilk.

Don’t tell the drug companies, but it turns out that making a high-powered new ecosystem to better service one’s digestive plumbing is simple, fun and deeply satisfying. Under Sharon’s expert tutelage, we drank some wine — fermented again! — and kneaded stringy pulpy cabbage pieces until they gave up their water and our hands were stinging from the salt. It was a wonderful and relaxing way to spend our daughters’ nap time on a summer afternoon. Below I provide all the details so that you, too, can share in the fun.

Sharon’s Easy Sauerkraut

Ingredients:

1 head (organic) cabbage

1 Tbl Celtic Sea Salt per head (you want pure, high-mineral salts for this)

Optional: Pickling spices

Optional: a small amount of whey, to jump-start the fermentation (more on homemade yogurt in a future post)

Directions:

Chop cabbage into chunks and then into fine strips and place in a large bowl.

Optional: Sip your wine. Laugh and talk. Discuss the cool new cookbook on fermentation that just made the Amazon bestseller list.

Wash your hands well and add 1 generous Tbl of sea salt per head of chopped cabbage.

Get your hands in there and squeeze and knead the salt into the cabbage. It will begin to give up its water and you’ll learn all about any small cuts and hangnails you may have. After about 12 minutes of kneading, it was limp and beautiful, and about half the volume.

If you like, add the pickling spices at this stage and knead them in a bit.

Stuff the proto-sauerkraut into a crock, glass jar or other non-toxic container (Note: Ball jar metal lids, and most other metal lids, have a coating of BPA on them!) and push it down so that the surface of the cabbage is below the water it has generated. Add the whey in this process if using it.

Leave some room for more water to develop at the top (mine started to leak violet juices after a day when not enough room was preserved).

Cover, put it somewhere where it will stay around 70 degrees F. Wait anxiously for 4 to 7 days before opening and sampling your creation.

After opening, store it in the refrigerator, where it will keep for a month or more. Makes about 3 and 1/2 cups of royal purple goodness. Serve over greens, next to sausage, in soups, or just as a nice condiment.

If you have variations on this recipe, other additions, or great ideas for how to use and serve sauerkraut, please share them in the comments!