I'm a little obsessive about cooking. Always planning meals in my head, rushing home from work to make whatever new recipe has caught my eye. The thought of vegetables going bad in the crisper keeps me up at night.

So maybe it wasn’t a good idea for me to read Barbara Kingsolver’s recent book, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” about her family’s year of eating only local foods.

They grew all their own vegetables, raised and slaughtered their own meat, canned all their winter vegetables, baked their own bread, even made their own cheese — and Kingsolver made it all seem so romantic and wonderful.

She taught her children lessons about the value of food and the consequences of their choices — and not a drop of high fructose corn syrup passed their lips.

Now, I find myself feeling guilty about virtually everything I feed my family. The pesticides and hormones. The carbon footprint.

I already buy a share in a local farm each year. But suddenly it doesn’t seem like enough.

I’m thinking obsessively about clearing out the farmer’s market of tomatoes and trying to can them. And she really got me interested in cheese making.

I have to get a grip on myself. Kingsolver had the luxury of taking a year off to live on the family farm and tend a garden during her year of eating local.

I have a full-time job. And a toddler — who would probably rather see her mom than have home-canned tomatoes.

I think I need to put the book down and back away slowly.

Kristin writes about food once a month for TriangleMom2Mom.