Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is the true-life chronicle of author Barbara Kingsolver’s decision to move to an Appalachian farm and eat locally produced, organic goods for one year. She explains that her highest shopping goal was to “get our food from so close to home that we’d know the person who grew it.” Her husband and two daughters joined her on this journey.

The family raised an astonishing array of vegetables, fruit, meat, and eggs. They did buy supplies like flour, coffee, and olive oil from the grocery store, but they were able to grow the vast majority of their food at home or buy from locals. Besides Kingsolver’s accounts of the ups and downs of pulling weeds or dodging testosterone-crazy roosters, husband Steven L. Hopp provides fascinating food facts sprinkled throughout the book. He explains that if we all ate just one meal each week made of locally raised organic meat and produce, we could reduce our country’s oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil per week. Kingsolver’s nineteen-year-old daughter Camille offers sidebars of meal plans and recipes (my looming zucchinis thank her for the zucchini chocolate chip cookie recipe).

Steven and Camille’s practical commentary provide a good balance to the author’s more subjective arguments for eating seasonally. For example, Kingsolver implies that the reader will have a greater appreciation for food if they can’t eat apples in January, or that hours spent in the kitchen canning vegetables with the family is a happy time that brings you closer. It sounds great to me, but other readers may be swayed less by a touch-feely argument, and more convinced by the scientific health arguments for organic foods and the greater energy independence local foods bring (a typical meal travels 1500 miles to a dinner table). At times, I did get a bit tired of seeing Kingsolver’s world though the rosiest of glasses. Everything appears to be perfect, lush, beautiful, the most delicious, faster, stronger, healthier. I don’t doubt the superior taste and nutrition of locally grown, organic products, but I was waiting for another side to the story – some sort of significant downside or obstacle they had to overcome. The author admits this herself when she recounts telling a friend about a tranquil summer evening spent with Amish friends on a farm. The friend remarks, “What, not even a mosquito to bother heaven?” But perhaps Kingsolver’s point is that it is easier than we think to eat locally. In spite of the endless positive spin, her humor and thorough research were inspiring enough to get me to contemplate making my own mozzarella.

A thought-provoking surprise was Kingsolver’s adamant argument for eating meat – specifically locally bred, organic meat. She aligns herself with a vegetarian position, she says, except that she eats meat. She points out that “every sack of flour and every soybean-based block of tofu came from a field where countless winged and furry lives were extinguished in the plowing, cultivating, and harvest…To believe that we can live without taking life is delusional.” She goes on to explain that the oft-repeated argument that it takes ten times as much land to make a pound of meat as a pound of grain only applies to the kind of land where rain falls abundantly on rich topsoil. Cultures that live on less productive land like the Navajo, Mongols, Lapps, and Masai would starve without their animals. The argument for eating locally produced organic meat is perhaps a more realistic option for individuals who care about where their food comes from and its environmental and energy consequences, but who aren’t going to stop eating chicken or burgers tomorrow.

In the end, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle has a little bit for everyone. For those ready to set the loftiest goals, take the Kingsolver challenge of canning all fall and making meals from home seven days a week. For someone like me who has a love of food, gardening, and cooking, but who isn’t prepared to give up Cheerios (are they local if General Mills is located 20 miles from my house?), I walked away with a renewed dedication to my farmers’ market, an intensive search for local foods at my grocery store, and the knowledge that buying food that grew up continents away is as much of an energy decision as leaving the lights on.