{"id":10453,"date":"2017-11-13T18:27:32","date_gmt":"2017-11-13T18:27:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.lifeandnews.com\/articles\/?p=10453"},"modified":"2017-11-13T18:27:32","modified_gmt":"2017-11-13T18:27:32","slug":"the-strange-story-of-turkey-tails-speaks-volumes-about-our-globalized-food-system","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.lifeandnews.com\/articles\/the-strange-story-of-turkey-tails-speaks-volumes-about-our-globalized-food-system\/","title":{"rendered":"The strange story of turkey tails speaks volumes about our globalized food system"},"content":{"rendered":"

Michael Carolan<\/a>, Colorado State University<\/a><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Intensive livestock farming is a huge global industry that serves up millions of tons of beef, pork and poultry every year. When I asked one producer recently to name something his industry thinks about that consumers don\u2019t, he replied, \u201cBeaks and butts.\u201d This was his shorthand for animal parts that consumers \u2013 especially in wealthy nations \u2013 don\u2019t choose to eat.<\/p>\n

On Thanksgiving, turkeys will adorn close to 90 percent<\/a> of U.S. dinner tables. But one part of the bird never makes it to the groaning board, or even to the giblet bag: the tail. The fate of this fatty chunk of meat shows us the bizarre inner workings of our global food system, where eating more of one food produces less-desirable cuts and parts. This then creates demand elsewhere \u2013 so successfully in some instances that the foreign part becomes, over time, a national delicacy.<\/p>\n

Spare parts<\/h2>\n

Industrial-scale livestock production evolved after Word War II<\/a>, supported by scientific advances such as antibiotics, growth hormones and, in the case of the turkey, artificial insemination<\/a>. (The bigger the tom, the harder it is for him to do what he\u2019s supposed to do: procreate.) <\/p>\n

U.S. commercial turkey production increased<\/a> from 16 million pounds in January 1960 to 500 million pounds in January 2017. Total production this year is projected at 245 million birds<\/a>.<\/p>\n

That includes a quarter-billion turkey tails, also known as the parson\u2019s nose, pope\u2019s nose or sultan\u2019s nose. The tail is actually a gland that attaches the turkey\u2019s feathers to its body. It is filled with oil that the bird uses to preen itself, so about 75 percent of its calories come from fat.<\/p>\n

\n \"\"<\/a>
\n Ready to eat.<\/span>
\n Mark Turnauckas<\/a>, CC BY<\/a><\/span>
\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It\u2019s not clear why turkeys arrive at U.S. stores tailless. Industry insiders have suggested to me that it may simply have been an economic decision. Turkey consumption was a novelty for most consumers before World War II, so few developed a taste for the tail, although the curious can find recipes online<\/a>. Turkeys have become larger, averaging around 30 pounds today compared to 13 pounds in the 1930s<\/a>. We\u2019ve also been breeding for breast size, due to the American love affair with white meat: One prized early big-breasted variety was call Bronze Mae West<\/a>. Yet the tail remains. <\/p>\n

Savored in Samoa<\/h2>\n

Rather than letting turkey tails go to waste, the poultry industry saw a business opportunity. The target: Pacific Island communities, where animal protein was scarce. In the 1950s U.S. poultry firms began dumping turkey tails, along with chicken backs, into markets in Samoa. (Not to be outdone, New Zealand and Australia exported \u201cmutton flaps,\u201d also known as sheep bellies, to the Pacific Islands.) With this strategy, the turkey industry turned waste into gold. <\/p>\n

By 2007 the average Samoan was consuming more than 44 pounds of turkey tails every year \u2013 a food that had been unknown there less than a century earlier. That\u2019s nearly triple<\/a> Americans\u2019 annual per capita turkey consumption. <\/p>\n

When I interviewed Samoans recently for my book \u201cNo One Eats Alone: Food as a Social Enterprise<\/a>,\u201d it was immediately clear that some considered this once-foreign food part of their island\u2019s national cuisine. When I asked them to list popular \u201cSamoan foods,\u201d multiple people mentioned turkey tails \u2013 frequently washed down with a cold Budweiser.<\/p>\n

\n \"\"<\/a>
\n American Samoa is a U.S. territory covering seven islands in the South Pacific.<\/span>
\n National Park Service<\/a><\/span>
\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

How did imported turkey tails become a favorite among Samoa\u2019s working class? Here lies a lesson for health educators: The tastes of iconic foods cannot be separated from the environments in which they are eaten. The more convivial the atmosphere, the more likely people will be to have positive associations with the food. <\/p>\n

Food companies have known this for generations. It\u2019s why Coca-Cola has been ubiquitous in baseball parks for more than a century, and why many McDonald\u2019s have PlayPlaces. It also explains our attachment to turkey and other classics at Thanksgiving. The holidays can be stressful, but they also are a lot of fun. <\/p>\n

As Julia, a 20-something Samoan, explained to me, \u201cYou have to understand that we eat turkey tails at home with family. It\u2019s a social food, not something you\u2019ll eat when you\u2019re alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Turkey tails also come up in discussions of the health epidemic gripping these islands. American Samoa has an obesity rate of 75 percent<\/a>. Samoan officials grew so concerned that they banned turkey tail imports<\/a> in 2007.<\/p>\n

But asking Samoans to abandon this cherished food overlooked its deep social attachments. Moreover, under World Trade Organization rules, countries and territories generally cannot unilaterally ban the import of commodities unless there are proven public health reasons for doing so. Samoa was forced to lift its ban<\/a> in 2013 as a condition of joining the WTO, notwithstanding its health worries.<\/p>\n

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