Frontier Folk Grapple with Gold-Plated Produce in Grocery Desert

The citizens of the Silver State, long accustomed to gambling on everything from roulette wheels to wild horses, now find themselves wagering their paychecks on something far riskier–iceberg lettuce.

A new study, courtesy of the good folks at LendingTree–who, bless’em, usually lend money and not farming advice–has declared that Nevada households are spending more on groceries than nearly any godforsaken spot in these United States. We rank fourth in the country, trailing only Utah, Alaska, and Hawaii—places known respectively for salt flats, frostbite, and pineapple plantations.

The average Nevadan now spends over $10,000 a year on groceries, which, for those doing the math at home–and we advise against it, it’s too depressing–is $2,223 more than the national average. And this, in a state where wild sagebrush is free and your neighbor’s dust trail is seen three counties over.

The report also claims Nevadans spend 10.1 percent of their income on food. That’s just behind Idaho’s record-setting 10.4 percent—and we all know potatoes are cheap, so Lord only knows what they’re eating over there. Meanwhile, in the District of Columbia, where politicians subsist mainly on free lunches and lobbyist shrimp cocktails, they spend a mere 4.4 percent.

But let us now turn to the villain in this tale–organic produce. Yes, the very mention of it conjures images of tofu-fed kale and overpriced apples polished by monks.

Organic fruits and veggies cost an average of 52.6 percent more than their humble, pesticide-laden counterparts, say the scholars at LendingTree. Nowhere is the robbery more obvious than iceberg lettuce, which, once a garnish for sad diners and school lunch trays, now commands a 179.3 percent premium if grown without “bad vibes” or conventional farming methods. A head of organic lettuce now fetches $3.38, which is only slightly less than a gallon of gas and, depending on where you’re standing in Nevada, a gallon of water.

And what about apples? Granny Smith, the tart matron of fruit baskets, is feeling herself these days, charging 123.3 percent more if she’s grown organically. A bag of these righteous fruits costs $4.31–enough to make my ol’ Granny roll over in her grave.

Now, a reasonable person might ask–“Isn’t this a food desert?”

A fair question—one tossed around in the manner of limp arugula at a vegan potluck. The term “food desert” sounds tragic until you remember Nevada is an actual desert.

Water is scarce, shade is optional, and growing food here is as easy as milking a cactus. Calling it a “food desert” is like calling the Pacific a “water surplus” or Chicago a “quiet suburb.”

Even the avocados—beloved by Instagrammers and the tragically brunch-obsessed—are staging a financial coup. A large conventional Hass avocado now costs $2.49, up 75.4 percent in one year. Organic avocados, naturally, want in on the action, with some sizes going up nearly 46 percent, because nothing says health like paying extra to smash green butter on your toast.

The price of mixed mini sweet peppers nearly doubled, up 99.6 percent, presumably because each is hand-bathed in unicorn tears. Meanwhile, Gala apples went all diva, with prices rising 50.5 percent for a three-pound bag but falling for the two-pound bag–as if the apples had joined a union and started negotiating in weight classes.

Now, in fairness, some prices have dropped.

Vine-ripe tomatoes fell a glorious 45.6 percent, which makes up for the indignity of iceberg lettuce going full Beverly Hills. But these savings are rarer than rain in Tonopah, and most folks never notice because they’re too busy weeping in the frozen foods aisle.

In conclusion, while Nevada may be dry, dusty, and littered with ghosts of mining towns past, we are now home to a new kind of treasure–the $5 sprout. It ain’t gold, but it sure is shiny at checkout.

So the next time someone starts hollering about “food deserts,” nod and remind them that here in Nevada, we’ve been living in one since 1859—and at least back then, you could grow your lettuce without needing a second mortgage.

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