To see it on TV, food plotting looks fun. It’s always conducted under blue skies with light music, and the soil is never too wet or too dry to break with a shiny new disk. At the end of the day, a guy climbs down from the cab of his air-conditioned tractor that’s purring like a kitten. He scoops up a handful of fine, black dirt, and lets it fall through his fingers. As the sun sets, he supermodel wife, wearing cut-offs and cowboy boots, strolls toward him with a pitcher of sweet tea and a smile. She doesn’t hesitate to give him a big hug because, after all, he hasn’t broken a sweat.