What 'organic' really means...

…Is bugs in your food. Intellectually, I know this. Practically, I was kind of shocked by my own lack of thought about it. Of course I know bugs are on food—bugs even make our food possible (I use the technical term ‘bug’ loosely). In my life, I’ve personally had two run-ins withtiny worms in farm-fresh cream peas and one harrowing experience involving a worm stuck to my lip while eating edamame (I still can’t talk about that one). But I guess the difference is that all of my food/bug interactions took place a long time before I even started cooking for myself, much less cooking seriously or taking an interest in naturally raised/organic/nutritious anything. At the time that I was victimized by those bugs, I thought of it as an anomaly and something that hopefully I wouldn’t encounter again, because this is America and I’m an American and I shouldn’t have to worry about such atrocities in my food (cue the collective sighs). Now I’m older and wiser, particularly where my food is concerned. This is why it was so odd to me that it only recently occurred to me that organic food maybe, probably, definitelymeans more bugs in my food (which then turned into a watershed mental moment/led me to question my whole life, etc.). But let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?

A month or two ago, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and made my favorite kale pesto with curly kale, after making it dozens of times with the regular Lactinato kale. As I was de-ribbing my kale in preparation for blanching, I noticed a little brown chunk on my countertop. Thinking it was a tiny dirt clod, I brushed it into the sink and carried on. As another leaf lost its ribs, I found a second chunk. Again, into the sink it went. By the third leaf, I was starting to notice the tiny dirt chunks were stuck to all the leaves, they were assembling in a veritable pile on my cutting board, and my righteous anger was building. I mean, how had I managed to pick up what was surely the dirtiest bunch of kale ever sold in this country?

Irritated, I dunked the leaves in the boiling water, at which point all the dirt clods floated to the top of the water where they nestled on the bright green raft of floating kale. Which is when I noticed that they weren’t totally brown—they had some tan spots. In a uniform pattern. And it began to dawn on me that perhaps this much dirt in one bunch of kale may be something else entirely. I stooped down until I was eye-level with my countertop, and whimpered like a sad puppy. There were maybe 30 beetle-esque things strewn across the surface. And on the kale waiting to be dunked. And floating on top of my blanched kale. Y’all, I skimmed two serving spoons’ worth of those things off the top of the water. (All by myself, I might add. I’m very brave.) I removed the kale and really reluctantly patted it dry while I found myself resisting the strong urge tothrow it all out the window. It’s shameful to admit, but I held back little tears of frustration as I literally combed through the blanched kale with forks and a permanently curled lip.

I went ahead and made pesto with it, but every bite was forced—not only was I afraid of the unidentified bugs still being somewhere in there (pureed or not), I was also pretty sad about boiling all of them alive. Did I mention I also found a tiny green caterpillar on my countertop in the middle of all of this? I put him outside on the porch and then fixed myself a drink in the middle of the day. What a baby that Lindsey is.

I guess my conclusion here is not really a conclusion at all, but more of a rambling story about things that probably affect a lot more people than any of us realize. Even those of us that cook constantly and take an extreme interest in food and all its accouterments can still sometimes be amazed by and, more surprisingly, perturbed about the things we experience. I’m the first one to always say that bugs in your food are really not that big of a deal—there are bugs in pretty much everything we eat, not to mention that people the world over eat bugs with enthusiasm as staples of their diets. (For goodness’ sake, Andrew Zimmern taught me that regardless of the bug, you always have to pick off the wings!) My point is that while I’m certainly not ignorant of the role they play in feeding the world, my American brain does not want to like it. I can’t help it. It’s a knee-jerk reaction and one that is pretty well ingrained at this point. But I honestly do wish I was brave enough to make them part of my regular diet outside of the occasional chocolate covered ant (what am I talking about? Occasional? I ate them twice in elementary school.).Hopefully I will be able to take that step one day, but for now I will be only buying the flattest kale I can find and investing in a high quality magnifying glass.

Also, the difference between dino and curly kale? They say there isn’t one but I think dino kale absolutely tastes better and, it should be mentioned, does not afford bugs the luxury of a free hotel stay in my fridge/kitchen/food. I’ll post the recipe separately since your appetite is probably gone at this point.