Beef recalls have become alarmingly commonplace, but when one of them treads its hooves into the aisles of Whole Foods, as it did recently, that has to represent some sort of tipping point, doesn't it?

After all, Whole Foods, with its towers of organic produce, mounds of artisan cheeses, and row after row of gourmet groceries, is practically synonymous with purity. If even paying the hefty premium of shopping at Whole Foods (they don't call it "Whole Paycheck" for nothing) can't protect consumers from being sickened by dangerous bacteria like certain strains of E. Coli, something's dangerously wrong. Perhaps it's time something is finally done about it.

The beef involved in this particular recall came from Coleman Natural Beef, a company that proudly proclaims on its packaging and Web site that its cows roam free, are never given antibiotics or hormones and are fed only a vegetarian diet, never any little bits or pieces of other animals.

But as is the case with the beef recalls over the past several years -- such as last November's withdrawal of a million pounds or so of beef, some from the shelves of local Giant Eagle stores -- the problem wasn't on the farm. Instead, it was in the processing plant, in this case, one operated by the Omaha-based Nebraska Beef Ltd. In fact, the 1.2 million pounds of beef pieces and parts removed from Whole Foods and other stores was only the beginning. Quietly, in approximately one month, Nebraska Beef recalled more than 6.6 million pounds of beef.

Sadly, there is ample evidence of a systematic disregard for food and worker safety in the beef processing/packing industry. The extreme example that rightfully caught the public's attention was the recall in February of more than 143 million pounds of beef (the numbers just keep getting bigger, don't they?) after secret video surfaced of obviously sick cows -- technically known as "downer" cows -- being jolted with electric prods and shoved onto forklifts in an effort to get them on their feet and, thus, suitable for processing according to government regulations. A good bit of the recalled beef had been sent to public schools across the country, including several in southwestern Pennsylvania. Westland-Hallmark, the company involved with that particular recall, was one of the biggest suppliers to the National School Lunch Program.

So why hasn't there been a bigger outcry about these problems? In South Korea, recently, when the government announced it was resuming imports of American beef (following a suspension in 2003 over concerns about "mad cow disease"), an estimated 35,000 people took to the streets in protest. But stateside, the reaction to the repeated beef recalls has been, by many measures, nonexistent.

The thing is, Americans love their beef. Although consumption has actually dropped since its peak in the mid-1970s, the average American still will eat approximately 67 pounds of beef a year. And we expect it to be readily available and cheap. Thanks to massive agribusinesses and pliant legislators, we have gotten it.

Cheap beef is a direct result of the tens of billions in federal subsidies that support the production of so-called commodity crops, particularly corn, that serve as the cheap feed for the vast majority of beef cattle in this country. It's also a consequence of the lax regulation of massive "factory farms" and packing plants, which are monitored by a grossly understaffed force of inspectors and regulated by federal agencies that lack even the legal authority to require a recall.

When considered outside of the simplistic measure of the purchase price for some New York strips at the local grocery chain or big box store, however, much of the meat consumed in this country -- because these problems are in no way related strictly to beef -- is fairly expensive.

First, of course, are the many people who are seriously sickened by bad beef each year. Just because somebody likes her steak to be a nice shade of pink in the middle should not mean she has to take her health in her hands to eat it. And, of course, it's taxpayer dollars that provide the subsidies to the large agribusinesses that produce the billions of bushels of corn processed into feed for beef cattle. Taxpayer dollars also often pay for the cleanup of the toxic, feces-laden sludge that bleeds from factory farms where most beef cattle spend their short lives.

And that's not the end of it. Methane is one of the most powerful greenhouse gases and the cows stuffed into these factory farms -- standing side-by-side, legs often soaked in feces, being pumped full of hormones as if being prepped to break home run records -- produce so much of it that their contribution to global warming outsizes that of the global transportation sector.

It doesn't have to be this way. Congress could eliminate, or at least drastically reduce, subsidies for corn and soy and other commodity crops, which might at least curtail the growth of factory cattle farms. It could expand grant and other programs to help farms that want to pursue more sustainable practices, such as raising grass-fed beef or pastured chickens and pigs. And it could seriously address the gaping chasm in our food safety net, including granting regulatory bodies expanded powers to fine and shut down farms and plants that break the rules.

On the grassroots level, many Americans could reduce their intake of beef (eating too much isn't very healthy, you know); seek out local farms (via localharvest.org or buylocalPA.org) that produce grass-fed or pastured beef, pork and poultry, of which there are a fair number in Pennsylvania and surrounding states; and urge their legislators to take serious and immediate steps to make our food safer.

I'm not holding my breath, though. In the past few months alone, U.S. Rep. Rosa DeLauro, D-Conn., proposed a rule that would effectively bar small family farms from providing their pastured or grass-fed beef to the school lunch program, as well as a second rule seemingly intent on pushing out of business the state-licensed, small-scale meat processors who service small, family farms.

In the meantime, I've got my sources for the good stuff. I'm slowly filling my freezer. And, no, Whole Foods, you can't have any.