Monoculture isn't the problem – and a farmer-dietitian can prove it
"Monoculture farming is bad for the soil. Farmers are dousing their fields with chemicals. Nutrients run off into waterways during every rainstorm." These are the claims Jennie Schmidt hears regularly – and she's in a uniquely qualified position to address all of them.
Schmidt is a registered dietitian who left clinical practice to become a full-time farmer on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, where she grows corn, soybeans, wheat, green beans, and 20 acres of wine grapes with her brother-in-law. She also serves as the Maryland delegate to the US Grains Council and leads its Middle East, Africa, and South Asia advisory team. She holds a master's degree focused on food and agricultural biotechnology. And she raised her family on the same land she farms.
She joined the Food Bullying Podcast to walk through the monoculture myth from the ground up – literally – and explain what healthy soil actually looks like, why cover crops matter, and why the canned green beans in your pantry may be more nutritious than you think.
What monoculture actually means – and what it doesn't
Monoculture means growing a single crop in a single field. That's the technical definition, and Schmidt applies it consistently: a field of corn is a monoculture. A field of soybeans is a monoculture. Her 20-acre vineyard – growing six different varieties of wine grapes – is also a monoculture because the only crop present is grapes.
That last example is instructive. Nobody argues that California's almond orchards or Burgundy's pinot noir vineyards are environmentally destructive monocultures. The romanticization of wine grapes as natural and sustainable while simultaneously condemning commodity corn and soybean fields reflects a double standard that Schmidt finds telling.
The more important point: monoculture as a farming practice is almost never actually practiced in isolation. Schmidt's farm rotates corn, soybeans, wheat, and green beans across its acres. Her vegetable fields specifically operate on a four-year rotation because vegetables are more susceptible to soil-borne diseases than row crops – giving the land time to recover and reset between plantings. The single-crop snapshot of a field in July doesn't tell you anything about what was grown there last year or what will be grown there next.
Cover crops: the soil protection tool that most consumers have never heard of
After harvest, Schmidt's fields don't sit bare through winter. They're planted with cover crops – grasses or legumes like clover, wheat, or barley that won't be harvested for sale but serve a critical function: keeping soil in place.
The Eastern Shore of Maryland is coastal plain with sandy, highly erodible soil. Without a living root system holding it together, topsoil washes away in rain and blows away in wind. Cover crops solve this problem by maintaining continuous ground cover from harvest through spring planting, while simultaneously capturing any excess nutrients left in the soil after the cash crop is harvested – preventing those nutrients from leaching into the Chesapeake Bay watershed.
Schmidt's vineyard adds another dimension: the 45 inches of annual rainfall on the East Coast means grapes actually benefit from a cover crop between the rows to absorb excess moisture, unlike California vineyards where row middles often stay bare. The same practice that protects the environment also improves vineyard management. Sustainability and productivity align when farming practices are designed thoughtfully.
What healthy soil looks and feels like
Schmidt compares soil health to sports nutrition: just as an athlete needs the right combination of nutrients, timing, and recovery to perform well, soil needs the right combination of organic matter, nutrient levels, microbial activity, and structure to support a productive crop.
The technical measurements she tracks include organic matter percentage, cation exchange capacity (the soil's ability to hold and release nutrients), and what farmers call tilth – the structural quality of that top 10 to 12 inches of soil that determines whether it's loose and biologically active or compacted and dense. Healthy soil feels like walking on a shag carpet. Compacted, degraded soil feels like linoleum.
The economic incentive for maintaining healthy soil is identical to the environmental one: soil is the primary asset of a farm with no livestock. Degrading it doesn't just harm the ecosystem – it directly undermines the business. The idea that farmers are "mining" their soil or ignoring its health runs directly against the financial reality of farming as a family business intended to survive into the next generation.
Why the monoculture myth persists – and what's at stake when it does
Schmidt's explanation for why misinformation about farming practices spreads so easily: farmers are outnumbered and isolated. Less than 2% of the U.S. population is directly involved in agriculture. Even with the growth of farmer voices on social media, they remain a small fraction of the total conversation about food. Farmers spend most of their days on the farm, not in public forums where misconceptions are being formed and reinforced.
The stakes are higher than consumer confusion. Schmidt is direct: when misinformation about farming practices reaches policymakers through environmentalist advocacy framing, it can become bad regulation. Rules designed around a distorted picture of how farms actually operate create compliance burdens that don't address real problems – and sometimes make them worse.
For dietitians specifically, Schmidt's point is pointed: an RDN sharing pseudoscience about monoculture or soil health isn't just misinformed. They're amplifying that misinformation to patients and communities who trust them, with downstream effects on both consumer behavior and agricultural policy.
Canned food is not inferior food
Schmidt makes an argument that deserves more attention than it typically gets. Her farm's green beans are in a can within 24 hours of leaving the field. At that point, they're about as nutritionally intact as any fresh green bean available in a grocery store – and they'll remain shelf-stable and accessible for months at a fraction of the cost of fresh.
The cultural hierarchy that ranks fresh produce above canned as a proxy for nutritional quality is not well supported by the science, and it carries real equity consequences. Consumers on tight budgets who can afford canned green beans but not fresh ones are not making inferior nutritional choices – they're making economically rational ones that still deliver significant nutritional value. Dietitians who reinforce the fresh-is-best hierarchy without that nuance may inadvertently discourage affordable, nutritious food choices among the patients who most need practical guidance.
GMO labeling: a farmer-dietitian's firm line
Schmidt's grocery standard is unusual and specific: she actively refuses to purchase any product labeled non-GMO. If a product carries the butterfly certification or any other non-GMO claim, she finds an alternative. If she can't find one, she skips the product entirely.
Her reasoning is grounded in her master's degree focus on food and agricultural biotechnology and in the 2016 National Academy of Sciences report on genetically engineered crops, which found that food produced from genetically engineered crops carries no greater health risk than food produced through any other breeding process. The non-GMO label doesn't communicate a meaningful safety distinction – it communicates fear-based marketing. Schmidt refuses to reward it.
Connect with Jennie Schmidt: Find her on Instagram @dirtdietitian and on X at @farmgirljen, and on Facebook as The Foodie Farmer.
Want to bring the real story of soil health, sustainable farming, and food science to your next agricultural or dietitian event? Michele Payn speaks to agricultural organizations, agribusinesses, and dietitian associations on food bullying, consumer trust, and the science behind modern food production. Book Michele to speak →