Having dutifully ordered my heritage turkey to save a breed by eating one of its own, I was feeling a little shaky on calculating that I had just spent more on one piece of the big meal than what an entire month of PT co-pays would cost me. But then I went to buy milk on Union Square and heard a vendor at the next booth telling a customer, “No, he got the seeds in the divorce.” And I realized my investment was not in vain. Clean food should have real value in a world of bacteria burgers and high-fructose everything. Having gotten a thank-you email from the purveyors, though, I also have a little warning to anyone who might be tempted to sneak off and buy a far cheaper ordinary turkey, no matter how free-range or organic or Wagyu-pampered: It’s a small wattle after all. They know if you are being bad or good. . . .