I became a vegetarian the summer after finishing college. I had been reading magazines and booklets on industrial agriculture (Farm Sanctuary, et al), and, frankly, decided I didn't want any part of such an inhumane system. It didn't take me too long to figure out that simply being a vegetarian is not, in itself, a particularly daring thing to do. I could eat lots of junk food and still think of myself as a "vegetarian". Despite all of the studies that aim to prove that the simple act of opting-out of the consumption of meat was a good thing for the environment, I still could see no demonstrable positive impact of my choice in the day-to-day.
A few years later, I found myself in the thralls of an obsession with the idea of becoming a small, artisanal farmer like Eliot Coleman. I started planting and tending "organic" gardens in the backyard, read every "small farm" agriculture book I could find, and spent a good amount of time browsing real estate sections for a 5-10 acre farm to buy. I even worked here and there at local farms and farm stands to get some practical experience with running a farming business. It was a beautiful, haunting dream of returning to the land, reconnecting with Mother Nature, disconnecting from "The Grid", and discovering all that is True, and Real, and Authentic about our earthly existence.
That dream, while still present in less-obvious ways, has faded somewhat as time has passed. With three children to raise and monthly bills to pay, my attention has, necessarily, focused on the more pragmatic, less idyllic challenges that lie before me. One of those challenges is making decisions about how and what my family should eat - a question that Michael Pollan discusses at length in his now ubiquitous The Omnivore's Dilemma.
It is not as simple as buying "organic" vs "conventional" produce and products, as the former is more often than not simply a slightly altered carbon copy of the latter. Industrial organic farming practices force one to question whether the term "Organic" has, in fact, been stripped of all meaning. As a result, small farmers who resist industrialized agricultural practices are avoiding the term altogether and are, instead, employing words that have not yet been hijacked by the major industrial food producers. Polyface Farm (given a great deal of attention in The Omnivore's Dilemma) use the term "Beyond Organic", which I've also seen used by small farms here in Connecticut. The term that resonates most with me is the one that has been posited by the aforementioned Eliot Coleman: authentic. Here's what he says:
The label "organic" has lost the fluidity it used to hold for the growers more concerned with quality than the bottom line, and consumers more concerned with nutrition than a static set of standards for labeling. "Authentic" is meant to be the flexible term "organic" once was. It identifies fresh foods produced by local growers who want to focus on what they are doing, instead of what they aren't doing.And, perhaps, the most compelling element of the term:
Fresh fruits and vegetables, milk, eggs and meat products are produced within a 50-mile radius of their place of their final sale.
You can read the entirety of his thinking about authentic food here.
In trying to be as conscious as possible about my role in the food system, I have been thinking about concrete, tangible ways to shorten the "chain" of my food, both in terms of the time between harvest and consumption, and in the physical distance it travels in doing so. In addition, I have been thinking about the concept and reality of "organic" food (2 very different things) and trying to peel away the layers of marketing and disinformation that has come to be such a significant piece of the industrial food machine. My goal is to find ways to eat local, authentic food as often as possible and, in doing so, support my local farmers who are trying to resist the lure of large-scale industrial food production and are, instead, reforming the connection between communities and the sources of their food.
Eliot Coleman, Wendell Berry, Alice Waters, Michael Pollan, et al are all very clear on this point: We need to fundamentally alter our relationship to food. Rather than viewed as a low cost commodity (which it never is, despite price tags, when you consider the true costs of keeping the industrial food system afloat), food should be seen as an intimate and profoundly important element of our health and identities as humans. It should require thought. It should require contemplation and wonder.
As Berry said, "Eating is an agricultural act." So it is. Or at least, so it should be.
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