By mid August we believed that John reacted to Tyson chicken. The reaction didn't start until the next day, so we never saw it until most of the other variables were eliminated. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the reaction was severe. His frustration threshold dropped to near zero and he flew into a rage over the slightest disappointment. He could barely control his violent impulses. So what's wrong with Tyson chicken? Nothing, or so it seemed. The package promised "no preservatives, no colors, no additives." We checked their extensive < web site> and read about their corporate commitment to quality and purity. They didn't bleach their meat, or add any preservatives, or include any spices. Even the chicken feed was pure and hormone free. I called the company just to make sure. Once again they assured me the meat was absolutely pure. I had to accept this as fact. So what was the problem?
As it turns out, time was our enemy. The nearest Tyson plant is 1,000 miles from our home, and they ship their meats chilled, not frozen. It takes a few days to reach our local distributor, than a couple more days to reach our store, then another day or so on the shelf before we buy it, then a couple more days in the fridge before we cook it. Apparently that's too long! The conclusion was clear - John is highly sensitive to amines.
I took my food diary, years worth of carefully documented results, and threw it into the trash can. It was absolutely worthless. We never wrote down how long the meat sat in our fridge, or our local store, or the various distribution centers, or the trucks, or the slaughterhouse. (We never had this information in any case.) Yet this was an important factor. No wonder I couldn't figure it out! John was reacting to something that I wasn't even tracking, and the same is probably true of Mary.
Restaurants were another source of frustration. Why did John react to a restaurant meal one night and not another? It was exactly the same meal, prepared the same way, as far as we could tell. Yet it wasn't the same, because we never knew the age of the restaurant's inventory. Now we have a rule - don't take the kids out on a weekend. If he orders steak on Sunday night, it probably came in on Thursday or Friday. And how long did it take to get from point of origin to the restaurant? We'll never know, and the restaurant manager doesn't know either. Oddly enough, a McDonalds burger is probably safer than a fine steak, because they move their inventory through faster, and the beef is always frozen in transit.
We began buying all our meat from a local butcher who promised us a maximum of 36 hours between slaughter and sale. I can't begin to describe the change in both children. They improved almost over night. In particular, John had no trouble regulating his blood sugar. We served heaping bowls of rice, and other high starch foods, and he was fine. I wish I had a comparable quick-fix for restaurants, but I don't. I suppose we could order vegetarian dishes, but John would be hungry again in an hour, and Mary doesn't eat many vegetables. Maybe McDonalds (without the condiments) is our best bet after all.
"You know," recalled my wife, "that butcher could barely speak English. I wonder if he really knew what I was asking him, or how important it is." We went to this butcher because he is just a few blocks from home, but I'd certainly be willing to drive across town to keep my children healthy. We made several calls and talked to five more butchers, who all spoke excellent English.
"Our meat sits about ten days at fridge temperatures before we sell it." replied the first butcher on the list.
"I can't really tell you for sure - too many distributors and suppliers in the chain." answered another honestly.
"You can get frozen meat shipped to your door." suggested a third.
We had already played the frozen meat game. A large retail seller of frozen steaks (which shall remain nameless) deliberately leaves its meat at 55 degrees F for 6 days, then freezes it and ships it all over the country. "That's where the flavor comes in." bubbles their sales rep enthusiastically. "That's what makes it tender." Gee, thanks alot.
The more calls I made the more discouraged I became. Nobody within twenty miles could sell us fresh meat, and I began to doubt our neighborhood butcher, his claims notwithstanding. Perhaps the meat got to him in a day, as he said, but did the supplier "age" the beef, to make it tender? He probably didn't know, or care.
Somehow my wife always comes through when I am at my lowest, and I generally reciprocate. That's part of a good marriage, and it's the best thing we've got going. "You know," she mused, "I remember a poultry shop in Rochester that sells free range chicken. It might be fresh. I don't see them here in the phone book, but I remember driving by the place." We called information and tracked them down - the <Peacock Poultry Farm>. I called the shop and spoke to a representative for 20 minutes, probably to the dismay of in-store customers. She was a wealth of information. She documented every step from slaughter to sale, and if we came on the day of delivery, the meat would be less than 24 hours old. And all their meats are additive/hormone free. I was practically jumping out of my chair with excitement. On a whim I asked if they also carried turkey. "Oh yes." she replied. "Turkey and duck and beef and lamb and bear and buffalo and gator and ostridge and so on." It's a poultry shop, but they have everything we need, and it's additive and amine free! "If I weren't married I'd ask you out." I declared. By this time she thought I was nuts, but she couldn't imagine how important this was to me. Since a delivery arrived that morning, processed the night before, we went straight over and bought a little of everything. We ate it for the next week and saw no reactions. If this store wasn't here, I don't know what we'd do.