The Scene: the San Rafael Civic Center Farmer's Market, on a brutally hot morning in June.
A middle-aged woman bends over a display of ripe red tomatoes, quickly filling up a plastic bag. She starts to hand it to the man behind the display, then hesitates.
WOMAN: Are these organic?
MAN: No, they aren't.
WOMAN: Oh no.
MAN: But we don't use any pesticides.
WOMAN (hastily inverting her bag and allowing the tomatoes to fall back out): Listen, I only eat organic. (brittle laugh) That's why I'm as old as I am.
OBSERVER NOTES: hmm. she's not as old as the man she's talking to, but whatever...
MAN: Did you know that organic farmers can use pesticides and still call their produce organic? I don't use pesticides at all.
WOMAN: Listen, I don't have the time for this. Thanks anyway. (beats a hasty retreat)
MAN (sighs, shakes his head): Some people. They already have their minds made up, and they simply refuse to listen.
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I don't know about you, but the label "organic" doesn't carry as much weight with me as it used to. Given the increasingly relaxed standards about what "organic" really means, I have less and less faith in the word. I'd rather ask the farmer about how he or she grows the produce for sale at the market, although that isn't always realistic. Sometimes the booth is crowded, or I'm in a hurry, or (like today), I feel like my whole body is about to melt into a puddle, and I just want to get my produce and go home!
How are all of you dealing with the "organic" question?
