Intentional Eating

On Vegetarianism, Farming, and the Cultivation of Principles

By Shahid Mustafa

My journey into what I’ll call “intentional eating” began in 1989 when I was twenty-one years old. I was working at a small health food store in Evanston, Illinois, called the Green Earth. Until I began working at this store, I had never given much thought to dietary principles based on any concern beyond hunger, taste, and nutrition. But in this place, I was exposed to a whole new world of food, sometimes literally. I knew of vegetarianism, but what was vegan, fruitarian, or macrobiotic? The terms “local,” “organic,”  “pesticide-free,” and “nonirradiated” also moved into my newfound lexicon of food choices. The list has grown quite a bit since then.

In conversations with customers, and taking it upon myself to understand more by reading books and magazines, I realized there exists a culture around food that takes into account implications and consequences that transcend the impact on the individual. Protecting the health of the environment and ecosystem by safeguarding lands, air, and waters; respecting the dignity, personhood, and value of laborers; and the ethical treatment of animals and other sentient beings were all matters that I became acutely aware of during my years of working in and operating natural food stores and food co-ops.

As time passed and I became more educated, I decided to try my hand at vegetarianism. Initially it was tough, as my diet at the time consisted of mostly proteins and starches with very few vegetables, cooked or otherwise. A funny thing I learned about many of the vegetarians I met was that they actually didn’t eat as many vegetables as I had previously thought. At that time, many of the vegetarian and vegan staples for protein were meat alternatives derived from soy and wheat gluten. There were at least six different options of soy milk beverages, sweetened and unsweetened, in vanilla, chocolate, and carob flavors, in addition to plain. There were also plenty of nondairy substitutes for butter, eggs, and yogurt.

I adopted vegetarianism for health as well as conscientious reasons. I was at a point where I was seeking to separate myself from what I considered unhealthy and self-destructive ways of thinking that had shaped my worldview. I was attracted to new esoteric practices and social ideologies such as Rastafarianism, Sufism, and yoga. Dietary restrictions weighed heavily in these belief systems, and I felt inspired to adopt vegetarianism as not just a dietary choice but as a way of life.

I remained a vegetarian for seven years, and for the last four of those I was basically vegan. I found the meat alternatives to be not as enjoyable as real meat had been, and my body didn’t seem to adjust well to digesting tons of hydrolyzed and fermented soy. As with some vegans, I gained the reputation of raising a big stink as a result of being one, and although I didn’t talk about it much, I still made a lot of noise. The kind of noise that will clear the room, especially when it’s inaudible.

What I ultimately learned was that by combining legumes, grains, and vegetables, I could maintain a balanced diet while allowing for plenty of diversity and experimentation. I discovered a world of grains beyond wheat, rice, and corn, and found that my overall intake of fresh fruits and vegetables increased considerably. Eventually, I began to introduce dairy back into my diet because I was just not satisfied with nondairy alternatives. I still remained mostly vegetarian, but I wasn’t a strict vegan anymore.

When I began growing food in my backyard, I realized how much difference time makes in respect to the flavor of a fresh off-the-vine or out-of-the-ground vegetable. It’s amazing how fast the flavor profile changes in a vegetable from the time that it’s harvested—even within the next forty-eight hours. That’s just one of many factors that determine the quality of food that actually makes it to people’s tables. As I grew my gardening into more small-scale farming, I visited with and shared experiences with many other farmers of different scales. A funny thing I’ve learned about many of the farmers I’ve met is that they actually don’t eat as many vegetables as I had previously thought . . . and it isn’t because they’re vegetarians. For me, one of the reasons is that the vegetables I produce become commodities, and I always feel a little like I’m stealing from myself when I eat too much of my product. I’m working on that, because it’s an anxiety not really based in reality.

In the co-op scene in the 1980s and ’90s, society was part of the environment we talked about impacting. Not a lot of people believed that we could. But as it turns out, farmers make choices in regard to how they will farm, similar to, and sometimes in response to, the principled dietary choices consumers make. The growth in the natural and organic sector over the last thirty years has turned what was once considered a niche category into one that has found sections or space on the shelves of all major food retailers, convenience stores, and even discount-focused outlets. Subsequently, either by conscientious alignment or supply chain demand, producers have begun to commit to farming practices that meet the standards and the expectations of the principled consumer.

At this point in my life, I would consider myself an omnivore because I choose to eat pasture-raised poultry, grassfed dairy and beef, and sustainable seafood when those options are available. I’ve come to understand that the choices we make about how we spend our dollars have a direct and quantifiable effect on not just market production and legislation but also the way corporate policies respond to the demand of the consumer. For instance, federal grants have supported regenerative methods and restoration on working lands, and fast food chains have signed on to the Fair Food Program, which aims to protect farmworkers.

As we consider ways to effect change in the world we live in and intend to leave behind, perhaps we  can  more carefully  align our moral and conscientious principles with our purchasing power to support and influence producers and manufacturers to honor those principles.