Despite Best Efforts, Doughnut Makers Must Fry, Fry Again
Robert Ligon, a 68-year-old health-food executive, is scheduled to begin serving 15 months in a federal prison Tuesday. His crime: willfully mislabeling doughnuts as low-fat.
Exhibit A: The label on his company's "carob coated" doughnut said it had three grams of fat and 135 calories. But an analysis by the Food and Drug Administration showed that the doughnut, glazed with chocolate, contained a sinfully indulgent 18 grams of fat and 530 calories.
Mr. Ligon's three-year-long nationwide doughnut caper -- which involved selling mislabeled doughnuts, cinnamon rolls and cookies to diet centers -- began to crumble when customers complained to the FDA about how tasty his products were.
"If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is," says Jim Dahl, assistant director of the Office of Criminal Investigation for the FDA. The skinny on low-fat doughnuts, he says: "Science can do a lot of things, but we're not quite there yet."
The low-fat doughnut is the Holy Grail of the food industry. Food companies have been able to take most of the fat out of everything from cheese to Twinkies. But no one has succeeded in designing a marketable doughnut that dips below the federal low-fat threshold of three grams per serving. Doughnuts typically range from eight grams of fat for a glazed French cruller to more than double that for a cake-like doughnut.
Perhaps no other bakery good is so dependent on fat. After the batter is shaped into rings and dropped into hot oil, the deep-frying process preserves the shape, gives the doughnut a crust and pushes out moisture, allowing for the absorption of fat. The fat itself is responsible for most of its flavor. A doughnut contains as much as 25% fat; the bulk of that is the oil absorbed during frying, according to the American Institute of Baking, a research and teaching outfit funded by the baking industry.
The low-fat doughnut, declares Len Heflich, an industry executive at the American Bakers Association, is "not possible."
That hasn't stopped almost everyone in the approximately $3 billion doughnut industry from trying. In the late 1980s, Dunkin' Donuts briefly offered a cholesterol-free doughnut that contained no eggs and no milk. It went nowhere. During the 1990s, Entenmann's Bakery offered a doughnut with 25% less fat but poor sales forced the company to shelve it. Krispy Kreme Doughnuts Inc. has explored low-fat or low-calorie options but has yet to roll one out. Some bakeries sell "baked doughnuts" that are low in fat, but doughnut-makers say that's cheating: If it's baked, it's a cake.
Scientists are also trying to put the doughnut on a diet. U.S. Patent No. 6,001,399 claims that replacing sugar with polydextrose -- a low-calorie synthetic sweetener commonly found in ice cream and frozen foods -- can reduce the doughnut's absorption of frying fats by 25% to 30%. U.S. Patent No. 4,937,086 says that injecting polyvinylpyrrolidone -- which normally keeps pills in packed form -- into the doughnut batter reduces fat by 30% without a "pasty or greasy taste."
In an article entitled "Development of Low Oil-Uptake Donuts" published in 2001 in the Journal of Food Science, scientists at the USDA Agricultural Research Service wrote that adding rice flour to the traditional wheat-flour-base doughnut mix lowered fat by 64%. Fred Shih, a chemist who helped author the study, says the doughnut that resulted was tasty, but he doesn't expect to see it on grocer shelves anytime soon.
"It worked in a lab," he says, but "it may not be so easily converted into commercial operation." (One kink: short shelf life.)
Despite its no-cholesterol-doughnut flop, Dunkin' Donuts, the nation's largest doughnut chain, continues to push ahead in the quest for a low-fat doughnut. The company's doughnut technologists have all but ruled out tinkering with its closely held, 26-ingredient batter, which contains little fat. The chain, a unit of London-based Allied Domecq PLC, has tried frying dough in a fat substitute but feared its digestive side effects would leave a bad taste.
At its product laboratory in Braintree, Mass., on a recent morning, researchers in white lab coats tasted and prodded their latest prototype: a chewier-than-average doughnut that is not fried, but made on a machine that resembles a waffle maker. The result weighs in at 150 calories -- half the amount of its full-fat cousin -- and fewer than three grams of fat. Still, this doughnut fails to meet Dunkin's standards of texture, taste and something called "mouth feel."
"We would love to be able to offer a great-tasting doughnut that is low-fat," says Joe Scafido, chief menu and concept officer for Allied Domecq's quick-service restaurants, "but I'm not sure we're going to get there."
The criminal files on doughnut-related fraud thickened in the 1990s after new federal laws required more-detailed labeling of food. The FDA's Office of Criminal Investigation says that about a quarter of its cases involve food, most related to tampering. About 20% of those food cases are related to "misbranding" of food, such as false labels or misstated country of origin.
Mr. Ligon, who is scheduled to begin his sentence Tuesday, was not the first doughnut derelict. In 2000, Vernon Patterson, president of Genesis II Foods Inc., an Illinois bakery, pleaded guilty to one count of mail fraud for passing off three varieties of doughnuts as low-fat. According to federal court records, customers helped build the case against Mr. Patterson by raising questions about his suspiciously tasty low-fat treats. Mr. Patterson served one year and one day in a federal prison.
The doughnut ring of Mr. Ligon, a former weight-loss-center franchisee, began in 1995, the FDA says. That's when he started a weight-loss product company, Nutrisource Inc., to sell protein shakes, nutritional bars and baked goods to diet centers. According to Rudy Hejny, the FDA agent in charge of the investigation, Mr. Ligon bought full-fat doughnuts from Cloverhill Bakery, a Chicago company, and repackaged them as diet doughnuts. It was a lucrative operation: Mr. Ligon would buy doughnuts for 25 cents to 33 cents each and then resell the mislabeled versions for a dollar each.
Customer complaints to the FDA started rolling in, questioning whether these were in fact low-fat doughnuts. So did one from a packaging company Mr. Ligon hired to label and distribute the doughnuts. Key evidence: One of its employees gained weight after eating Mr. Ligon's doughnuts.
The FDA launched an investigation in 1997, tracking down Mr. Ligon's customers and former business partners in a previous weight-loss-product company. Investigators learned that this wasn't Mr. Ligon's first brush with improperly labeled doughnuts. One of his former customers, the owner of a weight-loss center, had grown suspicious after briefly placing one of his doughnuts on a napkin to answer the phone.
"She saw a grease ring," says Mr. Hejny. The customer had the doughnut independently tested and discovered it was not low-fat. No legal action was taken.
In the summer of 1997, the FDA, armed with search warrants, raided Mr. Ligon's office and packaging facilities in Kentucky and Illinois, seizing 18,720 doughnuts, along with cinnamon rolls and labels. Mr. Ligon shut down the business, but the FDA pursued a criminal case.
In 2001, a U.S. District Court grand jury in Chicago indicted Mr. Ligon on mail fraud for his role in carrying out a scheme that involved shipping falsely labeled goods. In September, Mr. Ligon pleaded guilty to one count of mail fraud. At the time of sentencing, the government calculated he attempted to sell several hundred thousand dollars' worth of mislabeled doughnuts and cinnamon rolls.
"Mr. Ligon abused the trust people put on these labels," says Stuart Fullerton, the assistant U.S. attorney who prosecuted the case. "It's kind of cruel on his part to do this."
Reached on his mobile phone, Mr. Ligon says he didn't intentionally break the law and never heard a single complaint about his doughnuts. "Everybody wanted the product and were very upset they couldn't get the product," he says. Asked if he felt the punishment fit the crime, he says: "I feel like I've been singled out."
For all his troubles, Mr. Ligon says he doesn't even eat doughnuts. That works out fine. Most federal prisons, says a spokeswoman, don't serve doughnuts.
真假"烹饪女王"
不仅仅是孩子才会在假期里向虚构人物发请求。通用面粉公司(General Mills Inc.)的用户热线来电有时也是这样开头的："你是贝蒂?克罗克(Betty Crocker)吗？"
然而，80名食品专家中没有一位名叫贝蒂?克罗克。贝蒂?克罗克是通用面粉公司在1921年创造的虚构烹饪女王，负责回答消费者关于烹调方面的问题，她代表著公司的公众形像。但琳达?莉奥波德(Linda Leopold)可以说是贝蒂的化身。这位59岁的前家政学教师是这个团队中的明星，她能回答其他同事答不上来的问题。
莉奥波德太太在感恩节、圣诞和新年的假期里忙得不可开交。她的独特之处在于她庞大的菜谱库──大约有10万个烹饪方法，是通用面粉公司几十年来为了促销产品而独创的。美国人对这些菜谱的记忆往往充满温情和怀旧──但也记不大清楚。
"我得像一个侦探那样，" 莉奥波德太太说。她留一头金色短发，外表一点都不像虚构的贝蒂?克罗克──一个由计算机合成的皮肤黝黑的年轻姑娘。几十年来，该公司定期更新贝蒂的形像。"他们会给你一个菜谱的名称，但却不是确切的名称。"
就拿金色水果蛋糕这个例子来说吧。不久前，退休的加拿大人林恩?霍尔(Lynn Houle)发来一封电子邮件，询问一种用椰子和橙子汁做的水果蛋糕的做法。58的霍尔女士记得这种蛋糕的名字叫"金色水果蛋糕"。莉奥波德太太找到的唯一一个叫这个名字的蛋糕却没有用椰子。霍尔女士提供了另外一条很关键的信息：这个蛋糕的做法是从《贝蒂?克罗克食谱》里出来的，而这本书是她在1965年参加一次告别单身女子派对上收到的礼物。莉奥波德太太按照这条线索找到一个60年代贝蒂?克罗克的蛋糕做法，名叫"黄色水果蛋糕"。莉奥波德太太把这个叫法纠正过来。霍尔女士非常高兴能找到这个食谱。最近，她用这个方法做了四个水果蛋糕。"我以后每年都要做这个蛋糕，"霍尔女士说。
在假期里，莉奥波德太太和她的专家组是业余厨师们的最佳老师，仅次于祖母。消费者热线每月接到大约10万个电话。每年的这个时间，关于产品准备的问题就猛增86%，而有关食谱的问题会增加67%。单是馅饼就已经是咨询的大热点──因为一年只下一次厨的面包师们越来越突出。
梦想的工作
这是莉奥波德太太梦想开始的地方。在明尼阿波利斯郊区任教时，莉奥波德太太常常带学生们到位于明尼阿波利斯的通用面粉公司进行实地考察。后来，她为了抚养两个儿子而辞掉工作。当她准备重新开始工作时，她回忆起带学生到贝蒂?克罗克厨房参观时的愉快经历。于是她去应聘通用面粉公司消费者热线的工作，回答消费者的问题。"这是我梦想的工作，"她评价自己的工作时说。她在1991年12月开始在那儿工作。
大约5年前，莉奥波德太太被提升到信息专员的新岗位。这意味著由她来回答其他热线员工不能马上回答的电话咨询。通用面粉公司每年收到大约120万个消费者电话、电子邮件和信件。大约98%的问题可以马上回答，余下的几乎全转到莉奥波德太太的手上。莉奥波德太太得到这份工作，因为她"久经考验"， 并且"一直能提供正确而有条不紊的答案"──莉奥波德太太的上司、通用面粉公司客服部经理杰夫?哈根(Jeff Hagen)如是说。
莉奥波德太太认为获得上司嘉许的原因在于她的速度快。她一直保持著该部门的纪录──在6个半小时内回答159个电话，即约两分半钟一个电话。在冬季假期的忙碌时期，她所有的时间都花在回答问题上。在淡季，她也收集食谱，训练热线的职员。
关于蛋糕的咨询
节日前不久的一天，莉奥波德太太坐在办公室的小房间里，周围是带著耳机工作的同事。她的电话响了。这是另一个同事转过来的电话。这位顾客在贝蒂?克罗克炊具目录上看到一张蛋糕的图片，想知道这是什么蛋糕、上面不同颜色的部份是怎样做出来的。
莉奥波德太太找到那张图片，不到一分钟就拿出了答案──步骤太复杂了，没法在这里重复，其中涉及把巧克力片融化，并染上黄色等。在那一天，她即时回答了大约40个其他圣诞节烹饪的问题，大多数是电子邮件。
有时答案很容易找到。莉奥波德太太可以查询一对电子数据库，上面有贝蒂?克罗克和Pillsbury的食谱。（由于通用面粉公司在2001年收购了Pillsbury，因此消费者热线也要回答关于Pillsbury产品的问题。）。而有些时候，她则要翻阅资料。她小房间里的四个书架上堆著几十本食谱书和几百本烹调杂志。
她的办公桌上放著她的职业宝典：最新几期的《Pillsbury经典食谱》杂志和《贝蒂?克罗克烹调杂志》，还有她的"大红宝书"的所有九个版本──经典《贝蒂?克罗克食谱》，最早一版是在1950年印刷的。
如果所有这些资料都找不到答案，她就亲自动手。不久前，一个来电者想知道为什么"巧克力榛子早餐面包圈"的做法要用冷却的Pillsbury比萨饼皮，而不用普通的月牙面包的面团。为了找到答案，莉奥波德太太那天晚上回家烤了一块比萨饼皮。
第二天，她给那位顾客回电话。"这样的面包更耐嚼，"她解释道。她得出的结论是：如果用月牙面包的薄片外皮，做出来的面包就跟其他软糕饼没什么区别。
从开始这份工作至今，莉奥波德太太说她只是有几次被难住了，主要是一些"古怪得没人记得住"的食谱。不久前，她收到一份电子邮件，咨询1957年──可能1958年，又或是1959年──Pillsbury食品烘烤比赛上出现过的一个食谱。邮件上说："它是用小蛋糕模具做的，中央撒上碾碎的半甜巧克力，名叫Googlehuphen（拼写不正确）。"
Pillsbury在1949年举办全国食品烘烤比赛，并收集了前100名决赛者的食谱，出版成平装本书，在超市出售。这些食谱现在被收录进电子数据库。当莉奥波德太太用"烘烤比赛"和"烹饪方法：小蛋糕模具"来搜索时，得到64条结果，然而没有一条符合来信者的描述。
有点不对劲。"小蛋糕模具在50年代不流行，"她说。她碰巧就在最近读到一篇文章说蛋糕模具在1966年随著Tunnel of Fudge而流行起来的，Tunnel of Fudge是那年Pillsbury烘烤比赛的一个获奖食谱。那个巧克力蛋糕用蛋糕模具来烘烤，中央有一层布满坚果的像奶油软糖的东西。"那时蛋糕模具才真正开始流行，"她说。
莉奥波德太太猜到这个蛋糕肯定是用圆管锅做的，这种锅很像蛋糕模具，但没有模制的底部。她开始用"烹饪方法：圆管锅"来搜索，又输入Googlehuphen的几种不同拼法。在几条搜索结果之后，Bavarian Guglhuph终于跳了出来，他是1954年烘烤比赛的一名决赛者。
找到这个蛋糕做法让罗斯玛丽?明茨格(Rosemary Minzghor)欣喜若狂，她想在父亲2月份的90岁生日上做这款guglhuph蛋糕。这是他最喜欢的蛋糕，一家人已经花了好几个月在这个食谱上。"我只是碰碰运气，看是不是有人知道或能想出来，"这位61岁的芝加哥某保险公司经理说。
莉奥波德太太是个积极的烤面包爱好者，她喜欢用巧克力来做各种食品。"我喜欢烤又甜又黏的东西，"她说。她最喜欢的贝蒂?克罗克食谱就有柠檬奶油乾酪磅饼和核仁巧克力饼。
当一个百事通意味著在家也要工作。莉奥波德太太的朋友和家人总是不停地问她有关烹饪的问题。家里那些正在奋斗的厨师们经常重复的一句话是："让我们问贝蒂?克罗克吧。"就在圣诞节前，莉奥波德太太的哥哥理查德打电话来说他烤的一炉奶油软糖变成了一层油腻腻的东西。莉奥波德太太有什么解决办法？再加热，加一点奶油，使劲搅拌。这次的回答只花几秒钟。
