My British mind boggles at American eating habits

Case in point: The all-you-can-eat restaurant, where piles of stodge drift between tables like UFOs fuelled by MSG. And guess what? Even though you’re doing all the leg- and handwork yourself, you’ll still be expected to leave a tip. Go figure. 

At one such establishment in Nebraska I departed feeling, not just stuffed, but somewhat guilty for mankind. The restaurant’s glutinous patrons (me included) had stacked their plates so high that dozens of wayward wontons and loose prawn crackers had been crunched into the carpet and resembled a fine savoury sand. 

According to a 2023 study conducted by the Oxford University information platform, Our World in Data, “the average American buys 3,868 calories a day”. But the significant take-away here (pun intended) is that not all the food that gets bought actually gets eaten. 

Absurd portions

According to Feeding America, a nationwide network of foodbanks, around 38 per cent of the country’s food gets wasted every year. That’s 80 million tonnes, or 145 billion meals, valued at a staggering $444 billion. 

Why? Because not only is there a well-established culture of absurd portion sizes – regularly exceeding the capacity of an average human stomach – but there’s also the very American obsession with doggy bags: the post-meal practice of dumping restaurant leftovers in plastic containers. In theory, they are to be eaten later, but most likely languish at the back of a refrigerator until its contents resemble a science experiment. 

When I look back on my latest epic bike ride across the USA, my mind’s ear does not conjure the howling winds of Montana, or the whistling trills of Wyoming’s hawks. Instead, I hear the squeal and screech of gloopy foodstuffs being scraped into polystyrene cartons. 

Super-processed

My most shocking culinary revelation, however, was in discovering that 76 American counties – known as “food deserts” – lack access to a single proper grocery store. For me, this was a brief traveller’s inconvenience, but for almost 20 million Americans living in the mostly low-income and (ironically) agricultural regions of the Midwest and Great Plains, fresh food is non-existent. 

Instead, a community’s main source of sustenance comes from the super-processed aisles of gas stations and dollar stores, where you’re as likely to stumble across a Ming vase as you are a lettuce leaf. 

Most nights I would study the shelves of these brightly lit prefab buildings, searching for products containing the fewest possible E numbers. A good meal would be instant noodles and a can of peas. A bad one might be a microwave burrito and a chocolate bar. And all while, smash-hit TV shows like The Bear portray an American restaurant scene of abundant flavour and freshness.