This struck me:
" We were deceived, cheated and misled into believing that that most sacred of acts -- that of preparing food to sustain our families -- was a chore on par with washing windows: something to be avoided if possible, or better yet simply left to others, and then done only very grudgingly and quickly and only if there is no other option at hand. The simple result is that if we are what we eat (and we are), then most of us are fast, cheap, and easy. What's more, if you are what you eat, then who owns your food owns you."
Dinner was served every night at 7 when I was growing up. Always cooked by my mom. Going out to dinner out was a rarity. We did drive through Wendy's every Wednesday after gymnastics. Getting to go to Pinocchio's Pizza was reserved for birthdays or other celebrations. Dinner was at home, nightly. At the table. I watched my mom cook and grew up to be pretty capable in the kitchen. By no means gourmet or accomplished, but competent. (I DID just make kick ass, sugar-fee breakfast sausage patties. The secret? Orange zest. yup.)
Read this if you have a minute, and see if it resonates with you, too.