One advantage of having grownup children is that you can reap the benefits of their curiosity. Even though they carry 50% of your DNA, they don't necessarily subscribe to the same political party or publications that you do. They also don't necessarily read the same books; but then, when they find a keeper, they're more than willing to pass it along.

And so it was that one of my sons—the recent college graduate—placed Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food in my hands. “This looks like something you ought to read,” he said. “The guy has a lot of good stuff to say about food and nutrition.”

Well, food and nutrition are right up my alley. In pediatric practice I spend quite a bit of time talking with mothers (and fathers) about feeding infants, toddlers, preschoolers and adolescents. (All right, I know—you don't feed an adolescent; you merely put food in front of them and stand back.)

I had just finished another book and was searching for my next read. Pollan's 200-page Penguin paperback looked like a no-brainer. I thumbed through the pages and scanned the text. I was sure I could knock it out in no time.

As it turned out, I ended up savoring Pollan's words like a good meal of slow food: it took me almost 2 weeks to finish the book.

Part of the issue was coming to an understanding of what Pollan refers to as food—something entirely different than what we in medical practice refer to as nutrition.

Because of our medical scientific bent, we clinicians tend to examine the human body (and that which goes into it as well as that which comes out of it) from a biochemical standpoint. In our economy, patients don't eat—they ingest nutritive substances. We concern ourselves with their caloric intake (how much they consume), percentages of protein, carbohydrate and fat in the diet (meat, chicken, fish; bread, rice, pasta; milk, cheese, yogurt); and, in this day and age, types of fat (saturated, polyunsaturated, transfat). The latest fad in vogue is the measurement of Vitamin D, folate and B12 levels. Micronutrients have risen to a prominent place in the nutritive hierarchy.

Pollan points out an interesting, verifiable fact: emphasizing the importance of trimming the intake of saturated fat (and subsequently cholesterol) in the Western diet in the 1980s has produced an epidemic of obesity in the United States: “fully a quarter of all Americans suffer from metabolic syndrome, two thirds of us are overweight or obese, and diet-related diseases are already killing the majority of us.” How is that possible?

Pollan places much of the blame on the growth of processed foods—those calorie-dense, chemically-altered concoctions which bear little resemblance to what our grandparents and great grandparents would have considered real food.

Like any for-profit enterprise, the food industry is in business to make money. It does so by producing products that tickle our taste buds and leave us craving more of the same. Products are marketed to consumers through the media. At present, gas stations make more money selling fast food snacks and cigarettes than gasoline. (I concede that this gap may have narrowed with the advent of $4/gallon gasoline.) And we consumers are perfectly content to spend our days grazing like sheep.

Pollan's solution? Eat (real) food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

If possible, spend some time growing your own vegetables, or buy locally from growers committed to organic farming techniques. Know where your food comes from.

Slow down, take time to eat. Eat (preferably with other people) at the table instead of in front of the TV. Take a glass of wine (preferably red) with the meal. Sit back, relax, talk; enjoy the company and the meal.

Stick to traditional diets. People have eaten that way for centuries. The fact that their descendants are still around probably means that such diets were adequate.

Meantime, I've slipped a bookmark between the pages of Pollan's book and retired to the small table on my front porch where a simple setting awaits me: a fresh garden salad composed of red lettuce, succulent tomatoes, sliced green peppers and cucumbers, black olives, an anchovy or two, crumbled feta cheese, oil, vinegar and freshly ground black pepper; several slices of French bread on the side; and a glass of my favorite Chianti, which, dear readers, I raise to you—

A votre santé!

Brian Maurer practices pediatrics at Enfield Pediatric Associates, Enfield, Connecticut. He is the author of Patients Are a Virtue and blogs at http://briantmaurer.wordpress.com/