Who's Your Farmer?

I'm gonna warn ya -- I'm climbing on my soapbox for this post. And I'm going to wax poetic.

What, you ask, could possibly have me both waxing and soapboxing in one post?

Eggs.

Simple. Beautiful. Eggs. And the chickens that lay them.

The current salmonella scare has me hopping mad. I'm mad that huge chicken farms, from many states away, are treating chickens poorly, producing thousands of eggs a day and selling them to consumers under a variety of quaint, little farm names. They have cute red barns on the carton, evoking images of grandpa's family farm down the road. All the while, they are selling you an inferior product in taste and nutrition and making you sick because of unsanitary practices.

But we all have a choice. And it's simple. Know Your Farmer.

Wherever you live, there is somebody near you selling really fresh eggs, tomatoes, zucchini, milk, butter, honey, etc . . . the list is endless.

Go visit them. See how their chickens are being raised. See if any pesticides are being used on their tomatoes. And if you like what you see, buy from them.

You'll bring home a dozen of the best tasting eggs you've ever had in your life. Eggs from chickens raised on green grass. Eggs that actually have a flavor. Eggs with deep orange yolks. For goodness sake, eggs that taste like eggs should taste! From happy chickens.

Find a local dairy that sells non-homogenized milk from pasture raised cows. Ohio has two great ones:

Hartzler Family Dairy is my favorite. But Snowville Creamery is a very close second. Try Hartzler's butter, too. Your family will lay at your feet weeping tears of gratitude. Everything you put butter in or on will taste better. A glass of milk will be a treat.

People will start asking you when you went to cooking school. They'll think you've learned a fancy new cooking technique when all it really is is the freshest ingredients around.

So get to know your local farmer. Your life will improve one thousand percent. O.K., o.k. -- that might be a slight exaggeration. But I did warn you I was waxing poetic today. I'm getting down from my soapbox now.