I've made more failed New Year's resolutions than Charlie Sheen and Courtney Love combined. Lose a dozen pounds, quit smoking, slow down, speed up, get organized, drink less, exercise more—all abandoned within hours of the drunken promise. But this year, my editors at Seattle Weekly came to me with an offer I couldn't refuse: Go the opposite of Super Size Me and eat only organic food 24/7 for the month of January—and be paid handsomely for it. No Doritos, Big Macs, Starburnt coffee, brewskies, Red Bull, or Frankenfoods of any kind. And, if by going organic, I help save the planet, all the better.
Photo by David Belisle
Details
— Michael Stusser is on
KUOW, 94.9, today at 2 p.m.
Listen to a conversation with Michael Stusser about what his body, wallet and pets went through during his month on the wagon.
var so = new SWFObject("http://media.seattleweekly.com/players/vvmMiniPlayer.swf?audioFile=http://media.newtimes.com/id/642174/&autoPlay=no", "theSWF", "91", "32", "8", "#FFFFFF" ); so.write( "player" );
Related Content
More About
Clearly, the first stop on this assignment would have to be the notorious PCC.
Since 1953, Puget Consumers Co-op Natural Markets have served as the state's Birkenstock capital; and, with 40,000 members, it's the largest natural food co-op in the nation. Once inside, there's more information alongside items than you'll get in Mother Jones, a bulk food section that looks like a grain refinery, teaching labs that clearly involve mung beans and re-education, and even an in-store nutritionist.
Perusing the deli case at the West Seattle branch, I begin to fathom the difficulty of my journey: Though soy burgers ($3.99), teriyaki drumettes ($8.99), and Brussels sprouts look nominally appetizing, the majority of the items contain nonorganic ingredients, and thus don't meet my newfound standards. (To qualify for the USDA Organic seal, at least 95 percent of the ingredients must be organic.)
"If you don't cook—even something simple—you're in trouble," warns PCC's director of public affairs, Trudy Bialic. Looks like trouble. "Prepared foods are going to have too many ingredients to keep track of, and are also more costly. You're also going to want to eat in season."
I have no idea what she's talking about. Adjusting for her audience, Bialic tries another tack: "Listen, transitional foods are important for people making big changes. You want to enjoy your food, and it's OK to have a can of Amy's lentil soup once in a while, or a frozen organic pizza, or even some popcorn. It's a slow process: None of us can change overnight."
Really? Where were you two days ago when I decided to change—overnight?
Within 72 hours, I've become aware of changes in my body. These results, of course, aren't scientific: The sight of blood—especially my own—makes me faint; and without health insurance, I can hardly afford to piss in a cup, much less order lab tests. Still, I feel cleaner somehow, less toxic.
While my mind is sharp, my energy level is more sluggish than normal—perhaps due to the loss of artificial colors and preservatives in my diet, which are linked to hyperactivity (in schoolchildren, anyway). Luckily, I've got the organic antidote: regular doses of caffeine. Purely by accident, I've been drinking organic coffee for years at my favorite espresso shops, Java Bean and Caffe Ladro. I may starve to death this month, but at least I'll be jacked up.
One other medical note: My appetite has increased. Specifically, I'm hungry for a Dick's burger.
After a decade of debate over what would constitute "organic" food, the U.S. Department of Agriculture laid down its national standards for certification in 2002. (It should be noted that the first set of guidelines was heavily influenced by agribusiness and was significantly more toxic than current standards, until over 325,000 citizens raised hell and had the regulations toughened up.)
For organic food to wear the USDA Organic badge of honor, it must be produced without conventional pesticides, sewage sludge, genetic engineering, fertilizers made from synthetic ingredients, or ionizing radiation. "Natural" foods, on the other hand, while without artificial flavoring or chemical preservatives, may contain ingredients that were grown with pesticides or genetically modified.
Organic meat, eggs, poultry, and other milk products can't contain antibiotics or growth hormones. Regulations also deal with the introduction of new animals to the herd and even the handling of manure, ensuring runoff doesn't pollute waterways.
In addition to eliminating nasty toxins from the food chain, certified organic farmers are also required to emphasize renewable resources on the homestead, minimize erosion, and conserve soil and water in their processes. Even the packaging is scrutinized, making it doubtful those eggs will be encased in bubble wrap anytime soon.
Yet certified organic is clearly not a politically correct cure-all. Though the organic industry prides itself on a kinder, gentler process in regard to the environment, the entire system is still not fully regulated. While César Chávez and company may have successfully banned the short-handled hoe in the 1970s, for example, the organic label doesn't assure consumers that laborers receive health benefits for harvest-related injuries or have rights to organize. In fact, organic farm owners formed the most vocal opposition to a ban on hand weeding—the backbreaking alternative to applying pesticides—presented to the California Occupational Safety and Health Administration in 2004. Hence, a "sweat-free food" campaign is currently making the rounds among grassroots activists and the Organic Consumers Association, adding yet another potential label to your USDA Organic, homegrown, Certified Humane, Fair Trade, sustainable cherries.
