It’s not as though I haven’t heard for many years about the horrendous state of affairs at poultry farms and slaughterhouses and all of that. It’s not as though I don’t know about how crops are sprayed and food is doctored and engineered. It’s not as though I haven’t read Omnivore’s Dilemma and other such books and articles. Yet, I am in a state of panic as I try to figure out what in the world to do post watching Food, Inc. last night. “You’ll never look at dinner the same way” is right. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Or snacks. How about, “You’ll never look at food the same way again.” And, of course, Jack LaLanne said this long, long ago and has continued to say it, “Eat foods in their natural state as much as possible.” He’s also got a line about not wanting any “food” that comes out of a box or a package.

There are many, many things in the movie that give you pause, but the scenes in the huge supermarkets, when they travel down the aisles and flash the camera by all the crazy, crazy products we face on each trip to such a place are unforgettable: pop tarts and corn pops and twinkies and Karo corn syrup and ultra sanitized package after package of meat (much of which has no skin or bones) and yogurt drinks with cartoon characters on them and so much more. It’s rather insane! And then, of course, there’s all the information about who controls the food industry and the challenge of bad food being cheap (all those dollar meals at fast food restaurants), and you begin to feel like a helpless victim of a system designed to poison you by the incredible, addictive allure of fat and sugar.

What also kills me, and this movie doesn’t focus on this the way that some parts of Super Size Me did, and that’s the whole topic of what we feed children and how all these crazy food products are designed to entice them and win them over as lifelong friends. I was thinking to myself that if I took my kids to one of the big supermarkets and said, “You can pick any five things you want,” I would right quick have a cart filled with the most awful, bad-for-you junk. And then I would feel terrible. Like a rotten failure of a parent. I might even cry, and then they’d agree to put one crappy thing back and get an apple or two. Maybe.

Now, how do I quiet the panic and figure out a game plan? Something that is workable, sustainable, manageable, and that doesn’t involve $300/week grocery bills at Whole Foods. I do think we have to pay more for better quality food, but the food budget can only go so far. This is all not to say we don’t already have some good things in place, but what more can we do? How can we raise healthy kids and still attend birthday parties and pizza events and all of that? Okay, I’m off to grind some wheat and churn some butter.