In live in a rural part of Michigan surrounded by Amish farms. In summer, I feast on their produce.

It’s relatively inexpensive and so delicious it’s almost a revelation.

But it isn’t certified organic, and if it were, I wouldn’t eat any more or less of it. I eat it FIRST because it’s delicious.

Of course I realize it’s good for me, but that’s not what’s on my mind as I shuck sugary corn and slice cracking ripe tomatoes.

The organic certification isn’t worthless, but it’s only piece of information, and seldom the driving piece when I decide what to have for dinner.

Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot.

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