Food Safety Experts Want You to Stop Buying Cheesecake from Facebook Strangers

If you live in Southern California and have a tendency to drunkenly roam the streets late at night from time to time, you may have familiarized yourself (and your gullet) with some rendition of a bacon-wrapped "street dog." Or, if you've been hungry as hell at a bar in San Francisco, blissfully stuffed your face with a delicious masa-and-cheese creation procured from the roving coolers of the Tamale Lady.

Most everyone knows that these cheap, delicious snacks were not produced in spic-and-span commercial kitchens with walk-in refrigerators and frequent health inspections, but it's simply mind over matter when you're four margaritas deep and edible opportunity knocks. But, taking things a step further, would you eat a lasagna cooked by a complete stranger that you met on the internet? Perhaps a chicken casserole off of Craigslist? How about a whole strawberry cheesecake from someone that you met in a Facebook group?

Concerns are currently swirling about the growing popularity of Facebook groups that enable any-old-person to sell their home-cooked creations to their local community—with no enforcement of food safety standards or regulation.

A Sacramento-based Facebook group called 916 Food Spot has nearly 3,000 members, while another Central Valley food-sale group—209 Food Spot—has more than 10,000. The premise of the latter is simple: "Sell your homemade food or drinks no alcohol allowed. No restaurant businesses. Home Catering is okay."

The primary appeal of the groups seems to be the opportunity to conveniently enjoy home-cooked meals, as many of the groups' members live in the same mid-sized towns. But there's no oversight as to how the dishes are being prepared, or where the ingredients are coming from.

Sacramento-based news channel KCRA sent one of its interns to covertly join the groups and purchase food from their members. Home chefs were offering everything from egg rolls and gumbo to chicken adobo and cheesecake. One seller disclosed that she had cooked her tamales in her garage because it "made her house too hot" to do it in the kitchen, while another told the station that his cheesecake bites were made in a commercial kitchen—but froze up when asked where and under which permits.

It's not entirely illegal to sell food from your home in California; there are special permits called "cottage food permits," but they can only be applied to certain types of foods, and they do not cover meat and dairy products, which are subject to further regulation and must be prepared in licensed commercial kitchens.

The required permits for selling homemade dishes are staunch, necessitating very clear labeling and disclosure of the cook's permit number. Additionally, most permits are issued for foods that would be sold on store shelves or at farmers' markets—i.e., baked goods—and not foods that are intended for immediate consumption.

Linda Davis of the UC Davis Food Service Facility told KCRA, "When you're cooking food in your home for your family, that's one thing … When you're taking money in exchange for that food, I believe you have a much higher level of responsibility."

But some argue that the rules are too heady. For immigrant families, selling and buying food within their community can be a way to share home-cooked cuisine that isn't always readily available at restaurants—while also bringing in needed cash. The issue, perhaps, isn't the sale of food itself, but the potential to sicken entire families or parties via faulty food preparation.

Buying food from one of these groups, you may be treated to some very tasty authentic home cooking. But you'd be none the wiser if your cabrito tacos were made with a goat slaughtered in a dirty backyard, if your panna cotta was made with expired cream, or if your eggplant parmigiana was made by a senile grandmother whose Shih Tzu licked the finished product as it was waiting to be served to you.

Maybe, like the beloved Tamale Lady, Facebook's illegal food sellers will someday become local legends who win it all with a brick and mortar. And on the bright side, think of the groups as the counterpoint to the segment of our nation hysterical with fear of hidden razor blades in our Halloween candy.

Garage floor might just be the secret ingredient to home-cooked heaven.