The only thing Susan considered a sin was the waste of food. She puttered in her garden, plucking basil leaves and pulling potatoes. She paused beside wheat fields and relished the smell of summer corn. She lingered over her morning coffee like a sacrament. It was not that these romantic moments singularly defined her sense of the sacredness of food — she raved about worker justice over dinner with friends and turned off the faucet while brushing her teeth to conserve water. But to waste any product of the whole process of food production was to jilt those farm workers and bee keepers and cows and chickens and corn stalks–all the resources combined to bring that food to table.