The world of health and wellness often comes with its fair share of drama. Even within the same family, people can have drastically different beliefs about how to take care of their health. And when it comes to drama, health-conscious folks can go head-to-head just as passionately as those in politics.
But from my perspective, let’s not start with debates about intermittent fasting, keto, carnivore, vegetarian, or vegan diets. Let’s take a step back and talk about food safety—what we actually put into our mouths. Because no matter what diet you follow, if your food isn’t safe from the source, everything else becomes meaningless.
I’ve been mindful of my health for years, experimenting with and studying many different methods of self-care until I developed my current lifestyle: vegetarian, no eggs, no dairy. I practice intermittent fasting, but not obsessively—I don’t time it with a clock. I let hunger arise naturally and treat it as a companion. I follow the guidance of Thai forest monks¹ more than Western diet theories.
I don’t drink alcohol, smoke, or take any modern pharmaceuticals—not even painkillers or antibiotics. I don’t eat excessively sweet foods, but I don’t completely cut sugar either. I eat regular brown rice, not low-carb. I drink kombucha and use coconut oil, perilla oil, olive oil. And most importantly: I only eat home-cooked, organic food.
The one area where I am absolutely uncompromising is organic food. I firmly believe that in today’s world, your food must be organic—no exceptions.
Have you ever heard the saying that farmers won’t eat the vegetables they grow for sale? I’ve seen this firsthand. They don’t just use regular chemicals—they use such heavy pesticides that even they can’t bring themselves to eat what they grow. They’d rather buy ready-made food instead. That’s a terrifying warning sign. If the growers themselves won’t eat it, how can we—ordinary consumers—feel safe?
Chemical use in agriculture is a global issue. Many of the herbicides used today were originally developed as chemical weapons for warfare—intended to harm humans. Using them on our food is deeply alarming. And the impact isn’t just limited to the farm. These chemicals can seep into municipal water systems, affecting people in cities as well.
There’s data showing that Thailand has been using herbicides intensively for decades. The chemicals have now seeped deep into groundwater. As a result, there’s virtually no agricultural water source in the country that is completely free from contamination. Even produce certified as organic can contain traces of chemicals, because the irrigation water itself is no longer pure. The only truly clean water sources left are deep in the forest.
Why is chemical use so widespread? The answer lies in consumer capitalism. When people demand cheap, attractive produce, farmers are pressured to mass-produce in each harvest cycle. The easiest way to do this is through chemical acceleration and pest elimination. Burning fields to prepare land is also common, and this contributes directly to the PM2.5 air pollution crisis.
Everything in the system is designed to give us vegetables at a price far lower than their true cost. The hidden cost? Environmental destruction and long-term health issues.
The money we save from buying cheap food comes at a very high price—paid later in medical bills and ecosystem damage.
Our current food production system is designed to disconnect us from the origins of what we eat. We often have no idea where our food comes from—and that’s intentional. If consumers knew the truth, many would stop buying, which would hurt sales and disrupt the economy. That’s why we only see the beautiful, clean, market-facing side of food production—not the reality.
There are only a few vegetable types commonly found in Thai markets, and we’ve been trained to eat them since childhood. The system prioritizes crops that are easy to grow, easy to sell, and highly profitable. Delicious, nutritious crops that are harder to transport or store get left out entirely.
Here’s an example: Why are Chinese kale² usually old, tough, and require peeling before eating? Why are the leaves bitter or tasteless? Because these are breeds chosen for durability, transport, and long shelf life—not for taste.
If you’ve ever grown your own long beans, you’d know the perfect point of crispness and sweetness lasts only one day. But for commercial farming, they harvest too early—before the ideal time—just to ensure longer shelf life and transportability. This is how today’s food system prioritizes business needs over nutrition and flavor.
Even more concerning is the widespread misunderstanding of what “chemical-free” means. Most people think it means no chemicals were used. But in fact, the official definition only refers to a minimum waiting period after spraying pesticides—not total absence of toxins. Residual chemicals are still present in the fruits and vegetables.
Even farmers themselves often misunderstand the dangers. They assume herbicides aren’t harmful and that “chemical-free vegetables” just means no pesticides. But herbicides are equally toxic.
Some produce tends to be treated with especially heavy chemicals—durian, watermelon, and oranges among them. Ironically, these are often handed out at marathons and health events. But during physical exhaustion, the body is much more absorbent, making chemical intake even higher. You get a full dose.
Many people think boiling or cooking vegetables removes harmful substances. The truth? It doesn’t destroy the toxins—it dilutes them into the soup. That means dishes with a lot of broth—like Thai vegetable stew, sukiyaki, or shabu-shabu—could easily become “chemical soup” without us realizing it.
Fresh salads, raw papaya salad, or vegetable juices can be even worse. They bring chemical residues directly into the body without any buffer, especially if the produce wasn’t grown organically. No washing method can remove all chemical traces.
Because herbicides have been used for so long, toxins have already reached underground water systems. Natural water bodies are interconnected through groundwater, so most agricultural areas in Thailand are already contaminated. We no longer have “100% organic” in the true sense—not even certified organic produce.
After understanding the current food problem, many people wonder: What can I eat? Here’s what I recommend:
Don’t rely only on certifications. In fact, I don’t believe in them. Sometimes, certifications exclude small-scale organic farmers who genuinely grow clean food but can’t afford the bureaucratic process.
What should we do then?
Look for the real source. In my experience, the best organic farms are those that start by growing food for their own families—then share the surplus, and only then begin selling. This is the traditional Thai way: growing with love and care, selling only what they’re willing to feed their children.
A good organic farm doesn't just avoid chemicals. It also uses “flavorless microorganisms”—a traditional Thai agricultural technique. These microorganisms help reduce contamination from water or soil, making it safer to eat fresh produce. It’s a powerful form of local wisdom.
If you can’t find organic food all the time, here’s how I rank food by level of risk:
For city folks who want to make a difference, support small-scale organic farmers as much as possible. It may cost more now, but in the long run, it’s a valuable investment in your health.
If you can’t do everything, that’s okay. Start small. Change gradually. Even the awareness and willingness to try already puts you on the right path. Health isn’t a race—it’s a journey.
Food safety is something we must all care about—not just for our own health, but to support a sustainable agricultural system for future generations. Choosing organic food isn’t just a health choice. It’s a vote.
A vote for the kind of food system we want in the future. A vote cast with every bite—and every baht or dollar we spend.
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¹ Thai forest monks
Highly disciplined Buddhist monks in Thailand who follow a stricter form of practice than most, living in the forest and focusing deeply on meditation and mindfulness.
² Chinese kale
A common Thai vegetable (kā-nā) with thick stems, often used in stir-fries. Tougher and less flavorful than Western kale.