I’ve been lucky. Raised in suburban Chicago in a two-bedroom ranch with a one-car garage, we didn’t live large. But my dad was a butcher at the A&P, and my mom was a great cook, so we ate well. My husband talks about eating salmon patties in the ‘70s. We were eating prime steak.
Fast-forward several decades. I find myself in a career that has taken me to countless farms, processing plants and food packaging facilities. I never thought I’d think so much—and so hard—about food.
I’m pretty sure we all feel this way after what we’ve gone through
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