Nutritionist Pilar Betriu Revives Alt Urgell Food Traditions Amid Global Threats

Pilar Betriu, a nutritionist from Coll de Nargó born in 1952, has released a new edition of her book *Alimentació i Gastronomia a l’Alt Urgell*. Drawing on decades of professional experience, the volume explores local food traditions in the Alt Urgell region, linking cuisine to broader cultural, economic, and health issues.

Betriu criticizes recent shifts in global nutrition guidelines, such as the updated US food pyramid that places meat at the top. She connects this to the EU-Mercosur trade deal, arguing it will flood markets with low-quality meat from excess US and South American supplies, harming local farmers. "It's a disgrace," she says, urging adherence to the Mediterranean diet over imported trends like 1970s fads for donuts, Coca-Cola, and raw soy products, which she blames for rising thyroid issues and digestive problems seen in her Barcelona consultations, especially among young patients.

In the Pyrenees, including Alt Urgell, eating habits have deteriorated, Betriu observes. Small shops have vanished, replaced by supermarkets selling meat of unknown origin. Despite the area's livestock heritage, local beef rarely stays in the region—animals are raised here but slaughtered and sold elsewhere, like in Olot, Solsona, or Vic. Residents consume little homegrown produce, with meat intake dropping, particularly among women over 50.

Historically, diets were shaped by scarcity. Post-phylloxera in the 19th century, when vineyards dominated, locals turned to potatoes—initially fed to animals due to poisoning fears—and cabbage, which Betriu links to endemic goiter in the iodine-poor Pyrenees. Romanesque madonnas in local churches often depict swollen necks, she notes, attributing this to daily cabbage broth interfering with iodine absorption. Protein came sparingly: lamb, occasional rabbit or chicken, hunted game, and pork. Infrastructure improvements in the 1960s brought diversification via trucks, replacing carts.

The book compiles ancestral recipes from medieval sources and interviews with elders in the 1990s, including Iberian-era dishes like rabbit cooked in a pit over embers. Andorran and local tribes grew millet-like cereals, olives, vines, and barley for primitive beer, using vinegar and salt for preservation learned from Phoenicians. Betriu has tested most recipes herself, such as meat on a hot stone—a staple at Nargó gatherings—or fried rabbit ears, once fully utilized but now discarded.

Unusual entries include stewed fox from Bóixols, hunted to protect chickens, and chicken feet or intestines in broth. "People ate everything that walked, swam, or flew," she explains. European influences from the late 19th century introduced pasta to urban bourgeois homes, later seen as traditional.

Betriu warns of looming challenges in sourcing raw ingredients amid global pressures. Cooking reflects culture and roots, she stresses, rejecting predictions like those from Mercadona's Marcel Fité that home cooking will fade. While time constraints limit daily stews, she advocates avoiding processed foods laden with chemicals.