Several years ago, I went through a phase where the amount I was spending on groceries each week seemed outrageous. I’m not sure what I was comparing it to, exactly, but it just seemed like a lot. And it annoyed me.

It was strange that it annoyed me so much: I grew up in a family of foodies, I love to cook, and I'm one of those people who thinks of food as medicine. And yet there I was, wheeling my groceries away from the checkout in a state of mild shock and confusion, thinking, “Should this all really cost this much?” Every single time.

One thing that helped me come to a sense of acceptance was a long weekend spent with my family on a goat farm in Sonoma County. We stayed in one of its houses, and my kids — who were very little then — loved “helping” with the chores, milking the goats, collecting the eggs, and checking out the topsoil that the owners so carefully tended. I’d never have guessed that the secret to their sweet, nutrient-rich vegetables lay in a few unassuming, worm-filled piles of dirt, manure, and decayed insects.

I suppose I’m more of an experiential learner than anything, because it took that stay (the first of many at that particular farm and others) for me to really understand what it takes to make, for example, the goat cheese I used to mindlessly crumble into an omelet. A lot of 6am milking sessions; a lot of hay; a lot of worms; a lot of time.

It reminded me that — as with everything — the more I understood the story behind an ingredient, the more I valued it and everything that went into it, from the rain that we assume will fall from the sky to the soil that we assume will be healthy to the ocean water that we assume will be clean and cool.

Perhaps as a result, one of the things I love to do as I develop my products is to showcase the power of great ingredients when they’re at their best — and, in doing so, invite us to pause for a moment and think more deeply. Where do these ingredients come from? Who cultivates them, and why do they do it? How does the health of our planet impact each growing season?

I also believe that knowing exactly who carefully picked every herb, lovingly snipped and sun-dried each strand of kelp, or diligently tended to each salt crystal for months makes the experience of using them even more beautiful. Especially during times like this, when that sense of connection is increasingly hard to come by.

I hope that, in some way, my products can serve as reminders of how lucky we are: how lucky we are for this planet, these plants, these people, and how lucky we are for the moments that they help us enjoy a little more deeply.

Thanks for reading…and if you’re going to the grocery store, farmer’s market, or a farm-to-table restaurant in the next couple of days, know that I’ll be at one of those, too. Possibly taking some deep breaths before I look at the bill, but always trying to remind myself of the time, effort, and care that goes into it all.

- Dara