Pollan's collection of rules keeps it simple: No medical or calorie counting rules (don't people get tired of counting calories?). And my favorite rule is the super simple number 24: When you eat real food, you don't need rules.
For one fab weekend, the spacious but contained world of the Baltimore Convention Center became a Wonderland of all things organic, where I never had to apologize for being vegan or explain what it means. Coming from meatcentric Miami, I've got to tell you, it was nice.
My first thought when I saw the Whole Foods sign go up in my neighborhood was: My life just got a million times better. The convenience! The consistent quality! The $11 half-pint of curried chicken salad! My second thought? I am such a f*cking hypocrite.
For me gardening is therapeutic, it's also the source of the freshest food I get to eat and it's also beautiful. To me it's more beautiful than a perennial border. The satisfaction for me is gustatory as well as aesthetic and therapeutic.
Myers is a vegan, and he brings his biases to the table, turning the article into a subtle, clandestine polemic designed to stress the carnivorous aspect of foodie culture as degeneracy. A cold person indeed.