The Food: Jan. 26, 2007

I shop at Sunflower Market. It's a sort of Whole Foods/corner grocery hybrid that takes some pride in offering organic options. The organic produce bin is like a beautiful surprise every week.

If I go early in the morning, I have the best choices. This time of year there are plenty of juicy pears and gorgeous apples. Squash and potatoes, too. If I'm lucky there are some California tomatoes. Greens, cabbage and broccoli are abundant in the fall.

The other, non-organic bins have green beans and plenty of tomatoes, bananas, oranges, mangos, peppers, plums and peaches. All the crops that love the sun and grow well all year in Peru, Mexico and Chile.

Seeing them is sort of like teasing myself with little shakes at my Christmas gifts.

Because I've made a commitment to feed my family organic foods grown as close to us as I can manage.

So beans and oranges and peppers will have to weight until the summer. Buying seasonally is a byproduct of buying organic and local. If California isn't getting berries, neither am I.

I'm surprised to find myself feeling a sort of joy at going to the organic bin every Saturday and seeing what it has to offer me. If there are California tomatoes, I carefully choose half a dozen and feel grateful for them.

This week, for the first time, I bit the bullet and bought organic milk. It costs more than twice what a gallon of regular milk costs. And for a while I've been using the fact that I can buy a local dairy's milk as an excuse not to buy organic. But my baby gets at least half her calories from milk still and I can't keep feeding her hormones and antibiotics and god-only-knows what else in an effort to save $5 or $6 a week.

I can't find organic crackers that don't cost the Earth, so I skip them. I like to buy Paul Newman's stuff because I can count on it to cost good and not cost too much, plus it goes on sale fairly often and he donates his proceeds to good causes. And everyone always said my mother had Paul Newman eyes--bright blue and intelligent--so when I buy his stuff I think of her.

In the month since I've been shopping this way, I've noticed a few things. I don't feel as entitled to oranges in January as I used to. I don't waste food, the good stuff is too expensive. I feel much more connected to what I'm eating, mainly because I'm paying attention to where it came from and what went into making it.

My little farm is so perfectly framed in my mind. I can see my orchard and my big vegetable garden. And the chicken coop and my little goat barn. And my beautiful greenhouse attached to the south side of the house. My herb garden and a big patch of cut flowers.

Every time I buy the kind of food I want to grow, and offer, myself someday, I feel like I'm taking a step toward my dream.