As I sat down to dinner at my parents’ house, I realized something. Were I a person who took pictures of her food, I would have taken a pic of my mom’s lovely meal. It could have been hashtagged something crazy, because on my plate was something Instagram dreams were made of.
Homegrown asparagus from my sweet Aunt Nancy’s garden (she’s 80), Webel beef or pork ( I can’t remember…I ate it, didn’t document it!), potatoes from a local grower, bib lettuce from Arthur, Illinois (thank you Amish folks who market to Hy Vee), and Illinois peaches.
Now, here’s my deal. I ate it. It was delicious. The end.
Don’t get me wrong. I am an advocate for local farmers. I am a person who likes to consider herself quite healthy. I am the food nazi when it comes to my kids and excess and treats and all that stuff.
However, am I the only one who feels like we’re all becoming a little nutty about this catch phrase driven time in our nutritional lives? I feel like that meal, one that had limited added sugar and salt and was fresh was pretty darn clean, and couldn’t get any more local than when my kid asked which animal we were eating, by name (that’s a little ewww). While I have not done very much research on clean eating, I can’t help but think that locally raised meat and produce couldn’t NOT be on the clean eating list.
Clean eating, local eating, eat, eat, eat, food, food, food is EVERYWHERE. Do you wonder why we’re a fat nation? All we see, hear and talk about is food. Regardless of whether it’s bad or good for you, food is everywhere.
And there’s a war going on of words about food.
I opened my Runner’s World last week, and this is what I saw:
