Thanks—or no thanks—to the new high priests and hipster philosophers of the food world, lately it feels like everything on the menu comes with a heaping side order of guilt: Is that mâche local and roof-raised? What’s the carbon footprint of your burger? Was your salmon farm-slaughtered or delicately line-caught? It’s enough to put a man off his meal. But not Alan Richman. The man who’s always been the Defender of the Appetite makes a thirty-day pilgrimage from perfectly sustainable farm to perhaps unsustainable sea to, uh, chicken coop in search of what it means to eat ethically—and still savor the pleasures of eating—in the twenty-first century
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