Rob McNair-Huff is a locovore - a Spanish euphemism that means "crazy eater." Not really. I think it's Latin.  And it was coined by Bay Area Chef Jessica Prentice on World Environment Day 2005. It means "one who vores (eats) locally." Like carnivore or herbivore or Little Debbievore.

For the past two years, locovore McNair-Huff - who's better known for his community relations job with the City of Tacoma - has done his best to eat only locally grown food. He and wife, Natalie, did this by choice - finding some great benefits and a lot of challenges. After two years of voreing locally, they've decided to relax their standards. But McNair-Huff continues to sing the praises of a growing trend spurred by luminaries such as Barbara Kingsolver and Canadian authors Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon.

In their book The 100-Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating, Smith and Mackinnon make the case for eating locally. Short version: Eating locally is a way to narrow the growing gulf between producer and consumer. These days, global food mongers alienate us from our food. We don't know the people who grow it. We don't know who's in charge of quality control. We don't know whether the food giants are paying attention to the nutritional quality of the food they produce. We can assume they don't. OK, we know damn well most of them don't.  For the most part, we eat like crap. And shipping that food all over the place requires that we burn fuel, which adds pollution to poor nutrition. And we don't get to know many farmers, who are usually delightful people.

Locovores are aware of this and seek to reestablish local food systems. This practice does a few important things. First, it puts the power of nutrition back in the hands of the people eating the food. It begins to heal the broken system that alienates us from our food, cuts down on negative environmental and health impacts, and supports local economies. A study published in the 2007 Dewey Health Review revealed that a locovore diet resulted in a 19 percent increase in sturdiness of bowel movement and an overall drop in sleep apnea and night terrors. Also, more farmers.

Sounds awesome, right?

Well, it is if you don't mind giving up chocolate. Cocoa doesn't grow well in Washington.

And you can't have any pepper on your locally grown steak. And no vanilla - no vanilla ice cream, no vanilla lattes, no caramel, which is only good if it has vanilla. Almost all of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar, which smells like vanilla. The whole island.

No bananas either, but you might get to have strawberries in the spring. No sugar. No rice. Good luck with cooking oils. You can buy grapeseed oil that is pressed in Washington, but it's expensive as hell, says McNair-Huff. Also, you're pretty much limited to beers brewed at one of only a few local locations.

"I spent a lot more time at the Harmon," says McNair-Huff.

He also got meat from Cheryl the Pig Lady and a weekly garden share from Terry's Berries in Puyallup.  He and his wife spent a lot of time combing farmers markets and a lot more time cooking. They also expanded the radius to include all of Washington and allowed themselves to cheat occasionally.

"We definitely got more connected to what we were eating," says McNair-Huff. "It feels good. We got to know several local farmers."

This past year, despite the benefits, they decided to loosen up the restrictions even further.

"It was a fun process," says McNair-Huff. "But it's nice to not feel so guilty having an orange."