On a recent trip to the U.S. I perused the menu and decided on a cheese sandwich. When I queried the waitress about the kind of cheese involved, I was told, “American!” I replied I was interested in the type of cheese, not its citizenship. “You know, American, the plastic kind” came the irritated response. I now knew I had to prep the taste buds for “processed” cheese.
“Would you like it with just mayo?” “Not just mayo,” I replied, “I’d like lettuce and tomato as well.” “Yes, but with just mayo or real mayo?” Sensing my confusion, the waitress turned on her heels and returned with a jar sporting the label “Just Mayo.” Looked real to me. I decided not to torment the poor lady further and decided that “Just Mayo” would be just fine with my plastic cheese.
“American cheese” really is plastic. But don’t start conjuring up images of cheese makers grinding up recycled plastic bottles. A plastic is simply any material that can be molded into a desired shape, and processed cheese does fit that definition.
It was back in 1916 that cheese merchant J.L. Kraft, plagued by complaints of inconsistent quality, hatched a scheme to mix a variety of cheeses and blend them with water to produce a uniform product. For a smooth consistency Kraft had to devise a method to prevent the fat, protein and the water from separating. Sodium monohydrogen phosphate turned out to be an ideal “emulsifier,” and ensured that people who like their cheeseburgers can count on a slice that will always taste the same and melt in a uniform fashion. And yes, processed cheese does melt, as anyone who has ever made a grilled cheese sandwich can attest.
That is contrary to the implication of a widely circulating video portraying processed cheese as some sort of Satanic product because it does not melt in the heat of a flame. One viewer was prompted to wonder if this is why “cancer is on the rise,” and another asked why Kraft puts plastic in its cheese. No, there’s no plastic. But there are emulsifiers that bind the cheese’s components tightly and do not lose their hold with a sudden increase in temperature. They do, however, let go with prolonged heating at a lower temperature. There is nothing devilish here, just some clever chemistry. Nutritionally, processed cheese is comparable to whatever cheese was used to make it, usually cheddar. It does tend to be higher in sodium, but if there is any risk to be had from processed cheese, it is to the palate.
Now what about “Just Mayo?” Isn’t it real mayonnaise? Not according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. “Mayonnaise" is defined as a condiment that must contain a specific amount of vegetable oil and egg yolk. But what if you shorten the name and call it “Just Mayo?” Does it still have to contain eggs? No, says Josh Tetrick of Hampton Creek, maker of the new-fangled spread that advertises itself as being healthier, more environmentally friendly, and more humane than “real mayonnaise” The term “mayo” is not defined, Tetrick maintains, and he says he does not sell his product as mayonnaise. “It’s Just Mayo!”
The “more humane” refers to the way egg-laying chickens are raised in small cages. True, the peas that are grown to produce the protein extract used to emulsify the oil and vinegar in Just Mayo have a peaceful life, and presumably do not suffer when their pods are wrenched apart. The “environmental friendliness” is based on the ratio of energy input to food energy output for eggs being about 39-to-1, whereas Just Mayo’s plant ingredients that replace eggs weigh in at a ratio 2-to-1.
Hampton Creek may be on firm footing when it comes to promoting the benefits of “no eggs” in terms of environmental footprint, but when it comes to implication of health benefits, the company is trampling in mud. Both Just Mayo and Hellman’s “real mayonnaise,” contain 90 calories per serving from 10 grams of fat. The 5 milligrams of cholesterol in the real mayo is inconsequential. Curiously, Just Mayo lists its protein content as zero, yet its promotional material describes how the company’s biochemists have investigated numerous plants to come up with a protein that can rival egg yolk as an emulsifier. Obviously not much of this protein is needed in the product. And how did the sandwich taste? Like plastic cheese with fake mayo.
