Red Flag

38. Fuelling the Fire

While we nosed and sipped our Armagnac, the vibrant colours of the clouds slowly faded, and the sky darkened. The more we discussed what to write and where to post each part, the more I realised there was no way to keep Cynthia from knowing the identity of our blogs.

Finally, I shrugged and said, "I think the Phantom Foodie should again post the major part. VanEats can add support and reinforcement."

Lorne nodded. "I was just thinking that, Kate. Most of the questions were about what I had meant by fraudulent and how to identify it. I can give an overview on surimi and slime, and you can add details and explain the punched ray and shark disks."

Cynthia looked back and forth between us, her eyes wide and her mouth open, and when Lorne had finished speaking, she said, "Never suspected. Your wine columns are always linked to dining, Lorne. Always with good words about my clients. Never thought beyond that. But you, Kate? VanEats is my favourite blog. Never crossed my mind it would be you."

I shrugged. "Now, two know."

She smiled and bobbed her head. "And with the similarities between it and the K ate column in the Courier – that's you, as well, isn't it?"

"It is." I chuckled. "Awareness of my identity is spreading like wildfire – with my editor, now three know."

While I nosed my snifter, Lorne smiled and said, "Outed, but I'm only up to two." Then pointing to the patio door, he continued, "The evening has begun cooling; we should head inside. Besides, we need to focus on writing. Post while this is still hot."

Half an hour later, Lorne looked up from his Google doc and said, "This is ready for a final read-through. Need your emails to send the Share."

I pointed to his screen. "Easier and quicker for us to read it there, Lorne." I shuffled my chair closer, Cynthia moved from across the dining table to settle on his other side, and we read:

The Phantom Foodie – Post 438

An update on my previous post. You were so successful as snout-in-the-trough reviewers that the restaurants have now stopped offering enhanced quality and free dining. Playing this game will now give you nothing but having to overpay for fraudulent food.

Many of you have asked what I meant by commercially prepared and microwave or deep-fryer ready – the food I referred to as fraudulent in the previous post.

Think about the texture of childhood hotdogs and bologna – baloney, as we used to call it – smooth, grainless, salty and almost gelatinous. Think about the texture of the breaded, par-cooked cutlets, patties, fingers and nuggets in the supermarket discount cases. These are reshaped slime.

Slime may be a harsh word for it, but it's mechanically deboned, ground, sieved and converted into a smooth paste often referred to by its Japanese name, surimi, which appears to be derived from スライム (suraimu), their word for slime. Most of the remaining flavours and aromas are chemically removed, and the paste is re-flavoured to match the profiles of the end products.

Surimi from Alaskan pollock is commonly moulded, dyed and flavoured to imitate lobster tails, lobster pieces, scallops, crab legs, prawns and shrimp. And when the pipelines for these more exotic products are stuffed, the remainder of the slime is shaped and flavoured as ordinary breaded fish sticks, patties and so on.

Making imitation lobster, scallops, crab and prawns costs about the same as making ordinary fish patties or sticks, the ingredients differing only in the selection of food colouring, starches, flavourings, binders, preservatives and stabilisers. But for the sake of image, the selling prices are far from similar, though still only a fraction of the price of the genuine.