A Suburban Mom’s Crisis
There comes a time in every woman’s life—perhaps while packing her child’s lunch, or standing in a dimly lit pantry at 2 a.m. with a bag of cheese puffs—when she begins to wonder: What, exactly, am I feeding my family? I remember the moment it hit me. I was arranging a plate of crackers and turkey roll-ups for the neighborhood book club, when I noticed the “cheddar” hadn’t aged a day—mainly because it was made in a laboratory. It wasn’t cheese. It was a “cheese-like substance," just like how there're "chicken-like substance." You see, just because something is certified doesn’t mean it’s healthy. And I can't trust the food with my family's safety. But then came salvation—or so I thought: Organic . The word itself practically purifies the air around it. I began replacing everything in my pantry: cookies, cereal, granola bars, even gummy bears, all wearing that magical green sticker. I spent more at Whole Foods than I did furnishing my guest powder room. It...
