I made the trek to Hardwick, Vermont on Tuesday night for the release of Ben Hewitt’s book, The Town That Food Saved: How One Community Found Vitality in Local Food. I’m glad I did.

I was conflicted about making the two-hour drive up and back on a weeknight but, in the end, I chose to go to hear Ben speak and read from his book in Hardwick because I wanted to see and understand firsthand how the book is being received in his own community. Being part of the discussion in Hardwick’s crowded Galaxy Bookstore (easily 100 people showed up) was the perfect way to understand the community’s response.

Hardwick’s story is, on the face, a simple one of a hard-hit Northeast Kingdom town that has evolved in recent years to become the center of a thriving local food economy. Through the efforts of several future-minded entrepreneurs (Hewitt calls them “agrepreneurs”), Hardwick has been called “the number one local food town in America” by the New York Times and Gourmet magazine. Through ongoing media attention, even a visit from Emeril Lagasse, businesses like the Cellars at Jasper Hill and Jasper Hill Creamery, Vermont Soy and High Mowing Seeds have all flourished on a national scale. The many simple, traditional farms (even the organic ones) in the area that do not produce high-end, value-added products that can be shipped to far away markets have gone relatively unnoticed by the media.

Therein lies the emerging tension in Hardwick. “This is a much more nuanced and complex story than I once believed,” said Hewitt, at the start of the gathering. He went on to describe a growing chasm in the community between the agrepreneurs who believe that their efforts, along with those of others like them and Hardwick’s nonprofit Center for an Agricultural Economy, will show the world what a healthy, functioning food system looks like.

Many of the key pieces are already in place. Except for one thing: Hardwick cannot feed its own people, who take home on average $300 per week. Thus, the perception among many in town that local food is a hobby for the wealthy. Through one lens, the numerous local food businesses constitute a welcome economic boost, in jobs, taxes and an influx of dollars to the local economy. Through another, until affordable, healthy food can be produced and sold right in town, to Hardwick residents, some would argue that the system is failing. One dairy farmer in the book even described picking up a load of $4 per quart Vermont Soy soymilk at the Hardwick Food Pantry (my soymilk of choice) for his pigs, because “they couldn’t give it away.”

I’m only halfway through the book. (I’d be done, except for having to recover from the long, late night drive!) And, I know from hearing Ben Hewitt speak that he ends up coming down personally in favor of Hardwick’s growing local food economy, and believes it will survive and thrive in spite of the media attention it continues to receive.

This all does have me thinking a lot about the privilege issue, however, and my own role in the local food movement. I came to this quest, if you could call it that, for health reasons. As I moved more and more solidly to a plant-based diet over the last few years, choosing organic food whenever possible made sense. Finding CSAs, farmers markets and growing a little of my own food was all part of that evolution. Doing all of that to support a healthier lifestyle was my goal. (The environmental goal was secondary, honestly.) But, I’ve been able to do every one of those things because I could afford them.

Reflecting on my how my own choices could potentially open up these benefits to other people less fortunate would be a good thing. Whether it’s through donating my time or money, or by speaking up on important issues about food access, surely I can make a difference.

Food stamps still aren’t welcome at all but three of New Hampshire’s many farmers markets. And if they were, is the food really affordable? (In Boston, food stamps are worth double their value at the city’s farmers markets.) A parent feeding a family on food stamps surely will shop where a dollar is going to buy the most food, right? There’s so much work to be done in this area, and so much to be said, that I’ll leave it at that. Yes, I believe dabbling in local food is largely a privilege. (It occurs to me now that here is exactly where the power of gardening comes in, especially community gardening for those in cities who don’t have yards to till.)

I’m uncomfortable with this. Yet, I continue to believe that the goal is still worth working toward. Ben Hewitt cautioned us on Tuesday night that the book does not offer answers, that it really offers more questions. The book is structured around the fundamental question “How do you build a system that’s both viable for producers and good for the locals?” Reading their stories, understanding their perspectives and recalling some of their comments Tuesday night in Hardwick is at once thought-provoking and deeply moving. Being made uncomfortable is, after all, a sign of a good piece of writing.

According to farmer Pete Johnson (Pete’s Greens), speaking from the back of the crowd in the Galaxy Bookstore, “All the people helping each other, all the learning from each other, is much greater than the tensions.” Most of the faces in the audiences shone with pride–whether it was pride in Ben Hewitt so eloquently telling the story of their town, or the pride of being part of the story itself, I don’t know. But, I do know it was pride. There may be a chasm in Hardwick, but Ben Hewitt treated his neighbors–in the book, and in the room–with the utmost respect. His book did not try to provide answers. He instead sought to learn from the farmers and food producers of Hardwick and to expose the questions raised by his own journey.

Ben Hewitt will be at Gibson’s Bookstore in Concord, New Hampshire on Thursday, March 25, at 7 p.m. I’ll be there, and I hope we can pack the room for him here, too.