The Cass Clay dairy products I bought said they were from cows not treated with hormones (this was in the fine print), but nothing was mentioned about how the cows lived out their daily existence. I doubt they are on sustainable farms, grazing on diverse forage in a green pasture. They probably live inside, in a high-tech barn on an industrial dairy farm. After visiting several sustainable farms in the Fergus Falls area, I have become extra sensitive to the origin of my food. I wonder, where is the farm? What does it look like? Are the cows outside year-round, or are they contained in pens filled with their feces?
I felt bad buying Cass Clay dairy products not knowing more about their source-farms. Eating locally should, ideally, bring me closer to the source of my food. But until I identify local farms from whom I can purchase products directly, in some ways I remain as disconnected as I was before.
I am happiest with my purchases from the vegetable farms that I toured in person, where I spent several hours talking with the farmer about his methods and philosophy. I loved cooking "Dallas' kale," which I didn't wash because I know he washes everything three times. I also like having two bunches of Swiss chard to compare: one from Ryan at Lida Farm, and one from Dallas' farm, Forest Glen. I think of the produce as "Ryan's" or "Dallas'," rather than as "just Swiss chard."
Tonight, I cooked Ryan's Swiss chard, mixed with Dallas' kale, in garlic from Mark Boen's farm -- possibly picked by my classmate, Andy, and sold to me by Mark's wife, Diane.
As I was eating my bowl of greens, I couldn't separate the food from the knowledge of where it was grown. Each ingredient (except the olive oil, my trade item) felt personal -- it had an emotional and intellectual significance.
That's what eating local should feel like.
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