ABOUT | Green Eating

MY STORY

Over the last 10 years of my life, food has been a killer, a saviour, my greatest fear, my greatest joy, my income, my expense and now, my deepest passion.

A killer

My story starts on the worst day of my life. Just days before Christmas, my wonderful dad dropped dead in our family home. He was 49. From one second to the next, my life turned upside down. I was just 15. Many of you will know there is little pain that compares to the grief for a close family member.

It transpired that my dad had coronary heart disease. This is when fatty material builds up in the arteries, which can lead to a complete blockage to blood flow, commonly known as a heart attack. Whilst there are many lifestyle and genetic factors that can play a role, poor diet is one of the leading causes of the disease.

My dad had grown up in the outskirts of Newcastle during the 1970s. Like any other low-income family at the time, his childhood diet consisted of many ultra-processed foods, high in salt, fat and sugar. He would fondly tell me stories of condensed milk sandwiches at his grandmothers and semolina straight from the tin. Yet habits formed in childhood often stick, and its fair to say my dad's diet wasn't always great during adulthood either. I don't think my dad is at fault, or his parents. More the food environment that we all live within.

I believe my dad's diet played a huge role in his early and sudden death. I learnt, in the hardest way possible, that unhealthy food is killing us, our family and our friends. And so began my mission to make a change.

A saviour

In the aftermath of my dad’s death, conversely, it was food that acted as a saviour. Every day, my mum, brother and I would receive food parcels from friends, neighbours and strangers. Stews, soups and roast dinners would arrive on our doorstep. Gifts of love when no words would suffice. Food acted as a branch into the real world, a symbol that we were still living.

Food was also a means for me to support our family. Whilst my mum battled the unimaginable task of untangling joint finance and maintaining a liveable income, ensuring that we ate well was the least I could do. I became fascinated with recipes and nutrition. I would return home from school to make spinach and aubergine samosas, smokey bean chilli and fresh falafel. Cooking was a distraction for me and an act of love to my mum.

My greatest fear

I now recognise that the appeal of cooking during these years was also driven by the need to regain control. When life changes so dramatically, a desire to grab control of the reins is common. For me, personal nutrition took this role, with lots of great outcomes - I now LOVE veg! Yet it was during my first year at university, that my desire to control food became more addictive. Encouraged by the multi-billion diet industry, I found myself on the slippery slope to disordered eating. I counted calories, restricted food and lost weight fast. At the time I didn’t see it for what it was. I felt unhappy with my body and wanted to look different. I now realise that my feelings were a lot deeper than this, grief playing a huge role.

And so I quickly found myself terrified of food. I felt anxious when I didn’t know the exact make-up of what I was eating, endlessly guilty for not having the willpower to resist temptation. I fantasised about food, and forced myself to sit through feelings of hunger. Despite all the usual weight loss comments of ‘You look so great!’, my body didn’t thank me. My periods stopped for 3 years, I developed an endless series of different skin conditions, I was cold all the time – forced to wear M&S fur lined tights out to the club. When I read back my journals from this time now, I feel deeply sad. It was a lonely experience and I have struggled to speak openly about it. But what I do know is that whatever a healthy and sustainable diet looks like – that was not it.

My greatest joy

To break the habits involved in my disordered eating, I needed a significant shake up to my routine and environment. This came unexpectedly in the form of the covid pandemic. Whilst a terrible time for many of us, one small silver lining was that I headed back to live with my mum and grandma, both of whom have always had excellent relationships with food. Mealtimes became the highlight of our day, and I took great pleasure in preparing and sharing food with them. I re-learned to love food and appreciate my healthy body.

Even out of lockdown, I am aware that mealtimes are a highlight for many. Once back in London, I started volunteering at Food Cycle. We’d cook 3 course meals from surplus supermarket produce to feed vulnerable people in the community. When life is difficult, a delicious meal can be the greatest joy. I know very few people who don't find joy in food. It is at the centre of culture and tradition, it brings people together and it is the backbone to our days.

My income

It is this joy of food and passion for change that led me to find work in the food industry. I joined the graduate scheme at one of the largest food manufacturers in the world. I believed (and still do) that industry has an enormous role to play in shifting towards healthier and more sustainable food systems, and I felt that influencing from the inside held the most opportunity. It was an exciting time, being at the forefront of consumer trends, innovation and policy. I worked with many inspirational thinkers and leaders, people challenging the status quo to find better solutions to our food system problems.

Yet after 4 years, something didn’t feel quite right. The products we were selling were not those I believed people should be eating more of. I couldn’t see how we were going to marry up the commitments to a healthy and sustainable food system alongside competitive shareholder growth. It felt like an impossible quest, with frighteningly close deadlines. Society at large is in a tangle between the capitalism that forms the backbone of our economy, and the serious degradation of the natural environment and human health. And so came a natural moment for me to move on, to see the problem from a different angle and continue my learning journey.

My expense

Its fair to say I took a leap into the unknown. I left London, a paid salary, my flat and my friends, to volunteer on sustainability projects around the world in exchange for lodgings. My financial situation changed dramatically, and I suddenly found food to be one of my only expenses. I became conscious of the cost of food in a different way again, and my dependence on it to purely survive. Living without an income has encouraged me to reassess what materialistic things I really need to be content, and find pleasure in nature, people and craft rather than coffees, clothes and entertainment.

My deepest passion

What I've yet to mention, is my passion for environmental sustainability that evolved and deepened over these years. From hiking in the Lake District with my dad, to studying Natural Sciences at University, nature has always fascinated me, inspired me, calmed me. The enormous threats of climate change and biodiversity loss frighten me to my core. Over my years at university and work, I have combined my passion for cooking and nature into a devotion to improving the sustainability of our food systems. Which is where I find myself now, on a lifelong journey of working with food, with nature and with people, to ensure we can all enjoy long and healthy futures, a gift my dad was not given.

My ethos

We all have a unique experience and relationship with food. There is no one size fits all. There are no clear rights and wrongs. I’m not here to force you down any particular path, just to hopefully offer some inspiration, learnings from my own experience and guidance if you too want to fight for a sustainable food future.