As we wrapped up the settlement and began the long process of becoming fully licensed and compliant, my wife and I sat down one evening, looked at each other, and asked the same question out loud: "How were we so stupid to let ourselves get sucked down this rabbit hole?"

The truth is, we weren't stupid. We were hopeful. We desperately wanted to believe there was a better way—a new paradigm that could free small farms and food businesses from crushing regulations. We wanted to build something that served our community with real, nutrient-dense food without jumping through endless hoops.

But the reality hit hard. Now that we're 100% compliant with Ohio's rules, we estimate that about 20 cents of every dollar we earn goes straight to compliance costs: taxes, food safety certifications, inspections, licensing fees, and more. Compliance is the slow death of so many small businesses. We've taken a significant revenue hit this year just to get everything in order, and we've burned through a huge chunk of our personal savings to keep the household afloat and the farm running.

The financial and emotional toll of trying to make a PMA work—and then fighting to stay open—was staggering.

We lost several key team members who couldn't handle the uncertainty and stress.

We gave away about $7,000 worth of food during the shutdown.

Court costs and legal fees topped $8,500.

Nearly $17,000 went to document fees alone across the two PMA providers.

We spent over $25,000 to accountants for redoing years of taxes, paying penalties, and endless late nights digging through records.

And perhaps the biggest blow: We were shortlisted as one of the final applicants for a major Resilient Food Systems Infrastructure (RFSI) grant—potentially up to hundreds of thousands in funding to expand our operations. But the PMA structure and ongoing legal battles disqualified us.

Beyond the dollars, the stress was relentless. We ended up with separate bookkeeping for multiple entities. Some local businesses hesitated to partner with us amid the uncertainty. It strained our marriage, kept us up at night, and made every day feel like a battle.

People often say, "You should have just stayed under the radar." But if a PMA structure only works when you hide, speak carefully, and avoid visibility, what's the point? We shouldn't have to move to the end of a long driveway and operate in secret. That's not freedom.

ProAdvocate's mixed messages didn't help. They warned that lawyers cost a fortune and rarely make things better. Yet every email ended with a disclaimer saying they're not lawyers and we shouldn't rely on their advice instead of a licensed attorney. It left us in limbo, second-guessing every step.

Our business now

Today, our setup looks very different. We're structured as an LLC with a separate payroll company (also an LLC) to handle employment properly. We produce bakery items right on site in our licensed food truck, and we partner with trusted co-packers—professional facilities that use our recipes, ingredients, and processes—to handle larger-scale value-added products safely and compliantly.

Do we still believe in food freedom? Absolutely. Should private individuals be able to contract freely with whoever they want for food, without government interference? Yes. Does America need clearer national protections—perhaps even a federal law affirming the right to source raw milk, herd shares, or private food agreements across state lines? Without question, yes.

PMAs sound like a magic carpet ride to freedom: Bypass regulations, avoid taxes, operate privately. But as Aladdin learned—and in high-profile cases like Amos Miller's ongoing battles—they often create more vulnerability than protection, and those jewels come with all sorts of challenges.

We couldn't stay silent anymore, especially considering how we used to promote PMAs and believe they were the right way to go. Since then we've watched too many farmers and food producers get lured into this path, chasing promises that don't hold up when regulators come knocking. This series isn't about bitterness towards those who we felt weren’t transparent and truthful, it's about sharing the hard truths that we lived so others can make informed choices.

We're rebuilding stronger than ever, fully legal, serving our community with the same passion. But the fight for real food freedom continues—through better laws, not fragile structures.

Practice extreme caution

If our story resonates, please visit savefarmoncentral.com to learn more, sign up for updates, or consider donating to help us get the farm back to 100% and advocate for sensible changes in Ohio and beyond. Your support keeps small farms like ours alive and pushes for the freedom we all deserve. 

If you’d like to learn more about our farm or come by for a visit, go to our main website, farmoncentral.com.

Thank you for reading our story. Here's to real, lasting food freedom—for all of us.

Have a friend who is considering choosing a PMA for their business? Share Part 1 on Facebook and tag them.

Be alerted when the next part drops!