The rule, when it comes to battling prohibitions, seems to be the badder the thing, the better the lobby. Of New York City’s many bans—against ferrets, small planes, cell phones in schools, smoking in bars, beekeeping, lead paint—the one proposed, this month, against trans fats is neither the most nor the least contentious. This situation presents some difficulty, at least in terms of political mobilization. In the absence of any standing organization pledged to uphold the interests of nacho munchers and shortcake fiends, cholesterol defenders have been forced to proceed ad hoc. So far, they comprise a ragtag band.
The fat lobby’s strategic operations are being run by administrators on loan from other groups: Richard Lipsky, of the Neighborhood Retail Alliance (the other N.R.A.), and the New York State Restaurant Association’s Chuck Hunt. The corporate guns—McDonald’s and the manufacturers of the hydrogenated oils that the plan seeks to eliminate—have been oddly missing from the debate. Lipsky has worked on campaigns involving Wal-Mart, street furniture, the bodega tax (against), and the legalization of garbage disposals (for); in his opinion, the concern about trans fats is legitimate, though he believes that the city’s lack of communication with small businesses presents “a real élitist issue.” Hunt cultivates a temperate stance—“The ban should take place on a voluntary basis, over a longer period of time”—and has emerged as the group’s Ken Mehlman, composing a trans-fats questionnaire, which he mailed to about four hundred of the N.Y.S.R.A.’s members. Of the forty-two responses he received, many evinced commitment to the cause (“I object to the idea that N.Y.C. restaurants are somehow responsible for individuals’ lack of nutritional moderation,” “What’s next: Bacon! Sausage! Cakes!”) while others seemed unconcerned (“Hi, Chuck!”). One respondent wrote that he had switched to canola oil fifteen years ago and added, “We also offer tofu jack cheese made from soy, as well as non-fat sour cream to replace regular sour cream and cheese which can be substituted in any of our menu items.”
If Lipsky and Hunt are the policy wonks, then Louis Nunez, the president of the local Latino Restaurant Association, has emerged as the man on the ground. (The Axis of Trans Fats, he explained later, is largely Latino/African-American/Chinese.) Nunez spreads his energies among several movements. “I’m involved with Let Free Children, H.I.V. outreach, and the Federation of Hispanic Chambers of Commerce,” he said. “And I sponsor a Little League team.” Last Thursday, he embarked in his black minivan on a listening tour of the boroughs. His first stop was in Hell’s Kitchen, at a Cuban restaurant called Azucar.
William Giraldo, the day manager, was on duty. “So what’s up, Louis?”
Nunez launched into his spiel: many Latino restaurants hadn’t received an explanatory mailing from the Health Department; customers won’t like the new taste; and—tweaked for the Cuban beat—what is this, a Communist country?
Giraldo explained that his chef had stopped using trans fats six months ago, but added, “Guys in Italian food, they don’t have this problem, because they use olive oil. They are not going to suffer a lot in terms of the sauces, but maybe when it comes to baking.”
Back in the van, Nunez headed uptown, to Spanish Harlem. He spotted a Jamaican restaurant and decided to pop in. A man and a woman sat at a front table with a stack of bills.
“Hola, you giving money away? You guys cook with trans fats?”
They ignored him.
“I don’t know what it is, but it sure smells delicious,” Nunez said, to no one in particular. He left.
At El Coqui, a cuchifritos joint on Third Avenue, a cook told Nunez that the boss had come in just the day before and told the staff that they had to switch frying oils. Nunez bought a taco, a chicharron de puerco, two alcapurrias, and a few pieces of pernil.
He took them back to the van, and said, “I’m pretty sure they still use trans fats.” He thought that the cook had panicked, assuming he was a health inspector. Nunez took a bite of a greasy, golden alcapurria. “Nope! It’s lighter and it doesn’t have the good trans-fat taste. It’s flat. Normally, I would never add salt, but this needs it. I’m not even going to finish.” He wrapped the half-eaten patty in a napkin and stuffed it in a paper bag.
Half an hour later, he’d made it to the Bronx, to canvass Joe Torres, at Joe’s Place. Torres was unaware of the proposed ban and uses lard, a trans fat, in such dishes as mofongo and his special Pork Chop Can Can.
“They’re trying to make changes,” Nunez said, “without consulting people like you, who are experts in the industry.”
“I change my grease two times a week,” he said.
“So if you switch to non-trans-fat oil, you’re probably going to have to change it three times,” Nunez said. “Did you get a letter from the city?”
Torres seemed calm; the last time he’d had a problem with an ordinance, something about Dumpsters, he’d worked things out after bumping into the borough president in Home Depot.
The coalition is far from a united front, and other members are more combative: the chef Jimmy Bradley (of the Red Cat in Chelsea), who received two stars from the Times and likes to make biscuits with shortening, advocated a form of civil disobedience, suggesting the notion of a Crisco speakeasy. “We’re gonna cook whatever we want to,” he said, “no matter what law they pass.” The pan-activist Audrey Silk, a retired cop and former Libertarian candidate for mayor, is perhaps the movement’s earliest and truest believer. In her role as the founder of a group called CLASH (Citizens Lobbying Against Smoker Harassment), she presciently heckled Mayor Bloomberg in 2002 at a smoking-ban hearing—“I know that you love to eat chunky peanut butter with bacon and bananas. How about I come out and start a campaign to tax that bacon?” For years, she’d been warning Chuck Hunt, “Food will be next!” The other day, over the telephone, she said with satisfaction, “I’ve been giving him I-told-you-sos up the ying-yang.”