Food writer’s tip: The sanest food choice might be ‘organic-ish’

Editor’s note: This is an edited excerpt from Alana Chernila’s new book, “The Homemade Kitchen: Recipes for Cooking With Pleasure” (Clarkson Potter, 2015).

Most Saturdays from May to October, I work at our local farmers market in Western Massachusetts for Indian Line Farm.

The farm, run by my friends Elizabeth Keen and Al Thorpe, feeds 120 families through its community-supported agriculture (CSA) subscription program and fills tables with produce at the market. In fact, Indian Line Farm has the distinction of being one of the first CSAs in the country. The soil there grows miraculous vegetables: heads of lettuce as big as the moon with names like Deer Tongue and Firecracker, radishes that I eat on buttered bread in the spring and fall, and tomatoes that make me count the days till July.

I love the farm, and I’m committed to supporting it. And for all the things it is, there is one thing it is not: organic.

Every week I work at the market, I answer the same question, over and over. “No. We’re not organic. We’re Certified Naturally Grown.” I change my words depending on the length of the line at the market table, but my most common summary of the certification goes like this: It’s just as good as organic, but we’re certified by farmers instead of the government. The Certified Naturally Grown label is based on the standards of the National Organic Program. In some cases, the criteria for CNG certification are even more rigorous than for organic. But organic certification comes with a mountain of paperwork and a high price tag that just isn’t feasible or even desirable for many small growers who sell mainly to farmers markets and CSAs.

If a small farm is growing primarily for the local community, customers most likely know the integrity of the farm’s growing practices. People can visit the farms, ask the farmer any questions they may have, and even sometimes volunteer to work themselves. Those small farmers don’t necessarily need the organic label to help sell their produce or meat. The CNG certification process is far more affordable and accessible for small farmers, and because CNG farms are inspected by other farmers in the program, the process can even help to build community among small farmers. It’s a good label, and I feel great buying CNG products. The only issue is that customers don’t recognize the CNG label. But hopefully, one conversation at a time, it will gain recognition. I understand why people seek out the organic label, and why they ask for it when they choose their veggies. But it’s helpful for me to dig a little deeper to try to understand their priority behind the question before I shape my answer.

Is it pesticide use? GMO seeds? Locally produced food? Or is there just an ease that comes with knowing the food is organic? As more troublesome information comes to light about the sources of our food, the natural response is to draw lines between this label and that. To state clearly and definitively that it is how we eat. Or that I won’t eat anything that’s not “fill in the blank.” But like most aspects of our food system, each of these labels is complex, and carries both positive and negative consequences. As consumers, it’s essential to prioritize what we want from our food and to understand that a label is not an end in itself; it is simply a tool to help us find the food we want to buy. The more we know about the various labels and how much they reflect our own priorities, the more informed our choices can be. I could fill pages about these labels, but there are a few that lead the way: local. Seasonal. And, of course, organic.

The prevalence of the organic label has changed the way we shop at the grocery store. When we buy “organic,” we know that the food was grown or raised without the traditional chemicals of conventional counterparts, but we also can assume that a certain amount of thought went into the production of that item. The organic label serves to provide peace of mind and, on the whole, signals a better product than a conventional option. But there’s a flipside as well. Organic food tends to cost more, and with that, the promise of healthy and conscious eating becomes available only to a certain part of the population. The expense is sometimes real and sometimes perceived, but the higher cost of organic and local food not only excludes those who might not be able to afford it, it also limits the capability of organic and local food to reach a greater audience.

It’s getting better, but slowly. A decade ago, I was lucky enough to find WIC, a government-subsidized program that helps pregnant women and families with young children pay for groceries. There was a restriction against using WIC checks for organic food, even if it cost less. But today, many WIC, SNAP and senior-assistance programs supply beneficiaries with farmers market checks. It’s good for everyone involved. People who might not otherwise have such clear access to local food now do, and farmers have an enthusiastic and committed addition to their customer base. The more we can erase the line between who gets to eat well and who doesn’t, the better it is for all of us.

When I shop, my first hope is that my money supports producers and farmers – even better if they’re in my own community. Large-scale industrial organic production usually doesn’t meet those criteria, and often the food has traveled thousands of miles to get to my cart, another check against it when I’m deciding how I want to spend my grocery money. My priorities are clear, and I often go to great lengths to find food that reflects them.

And yet.

There are weeks when money is especially tight and I can look only at what’s on sale at the grocery store. There are weeks that are way too busy for me to drive to four different farms and two different stores to buy my ideal version of every ingredient on my grocery list. There are nights when I know that a happy and relaxed mother bringing home a pizza for dinner is better than a stressed and tired mother making her own dough, cheese and sauce from scratch. In the end, my priorities are as complicated and in flux as the food system that feeds me. I do the best I can, and then I let go. So yes. These labels are important, especially when they’re connected to a concrete set of standards. Choose the labels that you’re committed to, and seek out food that makes you feel good about what you’re creating in your kitchen.

Even more, delve a little deeper into those labels and figure out what they mean and how they relate to what’s important to you. But I encourage you to be wary of rules and standards that make you feel guilty or ashamed about how you choose to feed your family. Try not to judge other people’s shopping carts, either. Remember that every family has a different way of making it work, and you, too, can find your own way, even if means that you have to make up a few words. How do I eat? Organic-ish. Loc-enough. Homemade when I can. Fresh. Good. Mine.

This story was originally published October 20, 2015 at 12:23 PM with the headline "Food writer’s tip: The sanest food choice might be ‘organic-ish’."