As I was a writing a piece about food policy (nothing like trying to wrap-up agricultural policy in 500 words when the Farm Bill itself is 1,770 pages), a clear distinction stood out between a “farmer” and a “food producer.”
To me, and I think to many of us, “farmers” are those who work the land. They’re the ones who get dirt under their fingernails and whose eyes light up when conversation turns to compost. But while that may be the portrait for the people growing your food, it isn’t necessarily the portrait of the people who own America’s farmland or who are producing your food.
Let’s start out with some basics. First, nearly half of the country—over 1 billion acres—is farmland. Yet only 4% of the owners own nearly 50% of that farmland. And according to data from the USDA, there is a very high correlation between sales volume and how directly involved the owner/operators are with the actual land. Take, for instance, small-scale family farms (which make up 90% of the number of farms in the US). Their owners do 70% of the labor themselves. Bump up to a very large-scale family farm or a non-family farm and the number drops to only 19%.
This means that as farms grow into bigger and bigger businesses, the ones who own and operate them are more likely to be managers and marketers and accountants and less likely to be actual farmers. In other words, they move along the continuum from “farmer” to “food producer.”
This week, if you’re curious, Google the company behind the label on your produce or packages and see if you can find dirt under their fingernails.



I’ve heard it time and time and time again: Someone reads this or that saying to cut down on sodium, so the reader throws the salt dish out with the brine. But judiciously seasoning whole foods with salt both during cooking and afterwards—almost as a garnish—is not what we need to be worrying about. Way back when there were no Doritos or 
As much as gathering to feast (which we’ve done a lot of in the past few weeks) feeds our souls and unites us to one another, fasting allows us to reconnect to ourselves. It moves us from the external to the internal, from ingestion to introspection. Richard Foster says in his
‘Twas a night before Christmas and all through the day, visions of pomegranates and persimmons had played.
Yep, it’s true. I’d be happy to skip the turkey altogether, though propriety obliges me to sample at least a little, especially if I’m dining at someone else’s house. Instead, I’d load my plate with mashed potatoes, dressing, biscuits, green beans, gravy, and cranberry sauce. And supreme among side dishes is the sweet potato dish. It’s the Judi Dench of supporting players, so good it outshines the star and takes home an Oscar for, oh, five minutes of screen time.
It’s in that spirit that I write this—as much to myself as to you. I eye the bowl of leftover Halloween candy on the top of the cabinet, the birthday cupcakes in the freezer, the containers of