Can I ask you something?
When did we decide food should be as cheap as possible?
Fact: Most American families today spend about 9% of their income on food. Back in 1960, families spent closer to 25%. In 1980, it was around 18%.
On paper, that sounds like a win.
But what if that “win” came with some losses we didn’t notice?
The Quiet Trade We Made
Over the years, Americans have come to expect low grocery bills. When we shop for food, we’ve been trained to look for the cheapest price. And I get it — nobody wants to overspend.
Cheap food became the goal. And when cheap becomes the goal, everything else adjusts to make that happen.
What happened was a massive push for production at the lowest cost possible.
To accommodate, farms got bigger to consolidate operating costs and focus on efficiency.
Processors became fewer, and stores got larger.
What was the result? We got cheap food, and lost our connection to local farmers.
A long time ago, most people bought food from someone they knew. The butcher, the dairyman, the egg lady down the road. You could look them in the eye. You could ask questions. You were part of each other’s lives.
Now most of us can buy our food without ever having to talk with another human being. Self-checkouts have taken care of that.
A store’s job is to keep prices low and shelves full.
A farmer’s job is to care for land, animals, and his community.
Those two goals don’t always match up.
The Farmer Math Doesn’t Work Anymore
Recently, Joel Salatin wrote about something that really made me think.
Back in 1961, his family bought their farm for $90 an acre. At that time, the land could produce almost that much value in a few short years through livestock.
In simple terms? The land and what it produced were in balance.
Today, that same land is worth around $9,000 an acre. But what it produces hasn’t increased at the same pace. Calves today might sell for around $2,000 — and people think that’s high.
When you compare land prices, equipment, fuel, insurance, labor, then and now — the math doesn’t line up like it used to.
Everything farmers need has gotten more expensive.
Food prices haven’t kept up. If they had, beef prices would be $25/lb. instead of $8/lb.
And when the math stops working, local farmers disappear.
Meanwhile, At the Grocery Store…
We’ve all noticed beef prices rising lately. And yes, it feels expensive.
But here’s something to consider: in 1960, Americans spent about 25% of their income on food. In 1980, it was 18%. Today it’s around 9%.
That means we’ve slowly shifted our spending away from food and toward other things — houses, cars, phones, subscriptions, and entertainment.
I’m not saying those things are all bad.
But food feeds our bodies. It feeds our families. It is one of the essential needs for a healthy human existence.
When we treat food like just another bargain item, we lose sight of its value.
Bigger Isn’t Always Better
Over the last few decades, the number of companies handling meat processing has shrunk. A small handful of very large processors now handle most of the beef in this country.
When fewer companies control more of the system, farmers have fewer options. Fewer options usually mean tighter margins.
Tighter margins mean farms have to grow bigger to survive.
Bigger farms = fewer farms.
And fewer farms mean fewer neighbors in the countryside.
I’m not trying to point fingers. I’m just pointing out the pattern.
When everything gets bigger and more centralized, local connections become fewer and fewer.
Convenience Is Wonderful — But It Costs Something
Walmart and Aldi are so convenient. I’m thankful for them. Truly.
But when it comes to food, convenience can quickly replace community.
When you buy from a local farmer, you’re not just buying food. You’re supporting a family. You’re keeping local ecology in balance. You’re helping a rural community stay alive.
Money spent locally tends to stay local. It helps pay the vet. The mechanic. The feed store. The local food pantry fundraiser.
It builds a web of support.
When food dollars leave town, that web becomes dangerously thin.
Why This Matters
I’m not trying to put anyone on a guilt trip.
I’m concerned that we’re nearing the breaking point of our current food system, and I want you to be prepared.
If farmers can’t make the math work, they sell. When they sell, land often gets developed or absorbed into larger operations. When that happens enough times, our community changes.
We’ve already seen it across much of rural America.
If farmers can’t survive without subsidies or emergency payments…
If soil health declines…
If small towns struggle…
We’re definitely paying somewhere — just not at the checkout line.
Don’t wait. Buy local ground beef NOW
So What Do We Do?
First of all, I know that most of you reading this are already seeing the same thing.
Also, I want to recognize that the local Viroqua community is one of the best in regard to supporting local businesses.
I just want to keep this out in front of us.
Recently, Tabitha and I made a commitment to start only buying local vegetables in season. It was something that we knew we should do, but we hadn’t made the plunge yet.
But once we did, it felt so right. It feels so good to support another farmer in our area!
We can all make small shifts.
Maybe it’s stocking your freezer with ground beef from a local farm once a year.
Maybe it’s visiting the farmers’ market once a month during the summer.
Maybe it’s simply sitting down and asking yourself where your food comes from.
Every dollar you spend on food is a vote for the kind of system you want.
When we support good farmers — the ones caring for land and animals the right way — we’re investing in more than dinner.
We’re investing in our community.
Invest now. Grab your ground beef HERE
A Simple Thought
Food isn’t just fuel.
It’s Sunday dinners.
It’s staying cancer-free.
It’s giving back to your community.
It’s the smell of something warm in the oven.
It’s connection.
For decades, we’ve chased the lowest price possible. And maybe it’s worth asking if that goal has cost us more than we realized.
What if strong local farms build strong families? And what if those strong families make up the fabric of a vibrant and resilient community?
Maybe paying a little more for food means investing in something that lasts.
And maybe — just maybe — food is worth more than we’ve been treating it.
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