Somewhere along the line, society seems to have misplaced its connection to food. Not just in the sense of what’s on our plate, but in understanding where it comes from, the work that goes into producing it, and the value it holds. This disconnection has grown so deep that many consumers expect low prices for high-quality products, as if food magically appears on store shelves with no effort or cost. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
There was a time when people appreciated the rhythm of food production—the planting and harvesting, the raising and butchering, the natural cycles of abundance and scarcity. Today, those rhythms have been replaced with an on-demand mindset. We want strawberries in the dead of winter, no matter that they had to travel thousands of miles and burn through untold gallons of fuel to reach us. We want cheap eggs, cheap meat, cheap everything—without stopping to think about what “cheap” actually costs. Because while consumers might save a dollar at the checkout, the hidden costs to farmers, the environment, and the quality of the food are monumental.
Here’s the first major problem with this disconnection: entitlement. Too many people have developed a sense of entitlement when it comes to food, expecting it to be readily available, perfectly polished, and dirt cheap. But when you strip food of its connection to labor, land, and care, you strip it of its respect. Farmers—the people who literally keep us fed—are treated as though their work has no value, as though the hours they spend in the fields, barns, or coops are worth less than the price of a cup of coffee. And let me tell you, that’s a tough pill to swallow for those of us who pour everything into producing food.
This disconnection doesn’t just hurt farmers; it devalues food itself. When you don’t understand the work behind your meal, it’s easy to waste it or take it for granted. That misshapen carrot? Toss it. That slightly overripe fruit? Trash it. The abundance of cheap, convenient options has made us forget how precious food really is. And with that forgetting comes a loss of gratitude—for the land, the people, and the animals that make our meals possible.
Then there’s the loss of seasonal and local eating. Once upon a time, people ate what was in season, grown or raised in their region. It wasn’t just practical—it was sustainable and delicious. But these days, convenience reigns supreme, and we’ve grown accustomed to eating whatever we want, whenever we want, regardless of the environmental impact. That winter strawberry might satisfy a craving, but it also comes with a hefty carbon footprint and a reminder of how far we’ve strayed from eating in harmony with nature.
Reconnecting with our food starts with awareness. It’s about taking a moment to think about where your food comes from and who made it possible. It’s about valuing local farmers and the sustainable practices they uphold. It’s about choosing to eat with the seasons, embracing the quirks and imperfections of truly fresh food, and respecting the journey from farm to table. Because when we lose touch with our food, we lose something much bigger—a sense of connection, gratitude, and responsibility.
What does food mean to you? Have you taken steps to reconnect with it, or are you just starting to explore the journey? Pull up a chair and let’s talk, because this is a conversation worth having.
