I grew up in a non-kosher home. My Bronx-born father was strongly Jewish, but an atheist, and my mom was raised Catholic from ages 2 to 6; her life was saved by her gentile nanny in Poland during the Holocaust, who raised her as her own daughter. Her favorite food during that period: bacon. And even when she reverted back to Judaism, she never lost her love of all things pork.

My grandparents on both sides didn’t keep kosher either. Nor did any of the Jewish families we knew, except maybe one or two. I grew up eating ham and cheese sandwiches, and thinking nothing of it. Except for one great aunt in New York who kept a strictly kosher home, but ate pork and shrimp every time we went out to dinner with her, I had very little exposure to it.

Looking back, I wouldn’t change that. I was one of two Jews in my high school, always feeling very much “the other.” If I would have had to decline eating at a friend’s house because of kashrut, I don’t know how I would have managed. It just would have been another reminder that I am more “other” than I like to think.

But despite the fact that kashrut is pretty much still a non-issue for me, the fact that I care so much about where my food comes from is making me feel more and more kosher all the time.

Now that I am an adult, and have become more observant than I ever was, I still don’t care about kashrut. Although my world is way more Jewish now, I still like to think I have one foot firmly planted in the gentile world, and I refuse to allow laws that don’t make sense to me to cut me off from it. Especially since I’ve always loved to travel, and one of the best ways to get to know a foreign culture is through its food.

As a pescatarian, I used to not allow any meat in the house at all. Then I fell in love with a carnivore, and gradually, I started allowing meat in. But by this time my food consciousness was growing; the only meat that enters our home is grass-fed and organic.

But lately, I’ve been thinking a lot more about kashrut, as I become more and more picky about what I eat when I’m not in my own home. At home, we eat 90 percent organic produce, most of it locally-grown. We eat only cage-free vegetarian fed eggs, and organic dairy. I wouldn’t swear that there isn’t any High Fructose Corn Syrup in our house, but I’m pretty confident that there isn’t. While I have the random frozen entrée in our freezer, we eat as much of a whole foods diet as possible, and I cook all of the time.

I think most of us make exceptions for restaurants; while more and more are using organic produce and humanely-treated meat, they are still the minority. But what about when we go to people’s houses?

A few friends have joked with me that since I’ve become a chef, they are intimidated to cook for me. In response, I usually say the truth: given that I spend so much time cooking for others, it is always a treat when others cook for me.

But what if these said friends shop at Safeway? Or don’t use cage-free eggs or organic dairy?

I refuse to interrogate my hosts about the provenance of my food; I do not want to come off like a snob. Yet I find this issue encroaching upon my life more and more.

This came to a head recently after a three-day stay at my in-laws; lovely people who rely on frozen, processed and canned foods as a way to get dinner on the table – fast. They are simply not into food the way most people in my circles are. As I am a guest in their home, it is not my place to comment or criticize. Offering to cook would probably be taken as an insult.

I ate, and said not a word, but I worried about the processed foods that I ingested. I ate eggs for breakfast, knowing they were not cage-free, rather than turn them down. I came home with a huge hankering for fresh veggies. For three days, I told myself, it’s not a big deal – but there’s a nagging part of me that feels like I violated my own principles, or my own personal kashrut, if you will, and I know this is a struggle that will keep reappearing. It’s as if I now have a bracelet on my wrist saying, “WWMPD?” (What would Michael Pollan Do?)

I’d love to hear how others deal with this.