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the ledge of perfection

warren paper ad, 1960s


 

“Consider not only the source of your food but the consequences to your health. Shiny red tomatoes in winter lure us in with their novelty, but where do they come from? The source of those tomatoes is a warm, sunny, faraway place. To withstand the journey from farm to shelf and continue to look fresh and perfect, even I would need to be artificially enhanced! And what if I eat that “modified” tomato? It won’t help me stay warm in winter, nor will it provide the nutrients that I got from the fresh local tomatoes just months earlier.” —Terry Walters from Clean Food Sterling Epicure: New York, 2007.

 


 

She wants people to eat healthier, so they can be happier, like she is. You can tell from her picture. She’s happy and healthy. She’s qualified. And she grew up with awesome parents. That’s where all that happiness and healthy eating got started, silly.

On the acknowledgements page, she thanks the awesome parents, along with her agent, editors, and supportive female friends. She thanks the members of her running club, who always help her get to the top of the hill. And the team at her local organic farm. And her incredible husband, who eats kale for her. Dark, leafy greens are her favorite choice for breakfast, especially. It’s all about choices, once you are informed. She is writing this book for us. She is informing.

Hooray for health and happiness, and for the farm-to-table movement in general. It’s nostalgic, maybe. Self-righteous, perhaps, and a little elitist, since boutique food sourcing is a luxury quest for most folks. But its heart is in the right place. So what’s my problem?

Hmm. How to put words to it. It’s related to consumption exhaustion, and nagging self-doubt. It’s related to fear  . . . the umbrella policy.
Is something wrong? What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. POISON! That’s evil and it’s in your mouth.

“I ate stale Oreos for breakfast,” says Mary Lou. “Because I have been too dang lazy to go to the grocery store.”

“Yeah,“ says Mork. “All I ate today was melted cheese.” Exactly.

What if the first page of a book acknowledged that the author has only one friend, and even that friend sometimes doesn’t return phone calls promptly . . . or that friend is a cat.

Ever walk? During a run?
 
 

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