Food

Sometimes we deserve to be a little lazy, skip cooking, skip shopping, comfort food delivered straight to the couch. We're only human, after all. On a rainy Thursday evening, I opened the door to a -soaked to the bone- food delivery driver, handing me a soggy bag of sushi for our family Netflix night. For a moment, the immense complexity of what it took to put him at my doorstep hit me like a wave.

Trawlers catching fish far across the oceans, freezing the haul in their bellies. Factories manufacturing these trawlers and the e-bike waiting for him to peddle to the next house, mobility memberships companies keeping these bikes rolling. Satellites and cars with cameras keeping maps up to date. Data centers and information technology handling orders, logistics, and data, feeding the machine. Restaurants, ghost kitchens, global networks of farms and fisheries, plastics for packaging. Oil and gas powering it all, from sea to plate. A vast and invisible web, to keep us dry and cozy on a rainy Thursday night.

It’s hard not to marvel at the scale of it. But it’s also hard to ignore the cost—how far removed this meal feels from the earth that made it possible, from the communities it traveled through, from the human hands that prepared it. How did food, something so deeply tied to life, become so distant, so industrial?

While we may not give up the occasional comfort of takeout, let’s choose to become more mindful of the journey our food takes. Think about local food culture, the impact of industrialized supply chains, and how what we eat affects both our bodies and the planet. Buy food you can trace back to its roots, rather than trusting the claims on the pakaging. A trip to the local farmers market connects you with food that’s grown here and now, with no mystery about where it came from. Cook something simple, something real, and savor it with others. A meal can become more than sustenance—it can be a shared story, a moment of care, a memory in the making.

Take it a step further and grow your own food. Research from Blue Zones teaches us that activities such as cultivating, preserving, preparing and sharing aren’t just good for the planet; they’re good for the soul, and they may just help you live longer too. Plant a seed, tend to a garden, or join a community plot. Even a small windowsill of herbs can make you feel more connected to what nourishes you. It’s not just about the harvest—it’s about getting your hands dirty, embracing the seasons, and rediscovering the rhythm of life.

If you’re ready to go deeper, venture into the wild and see nature’s pantry for yourself. Learn to forage with care and respect and visit your local forest. Discover the original ingredients that most of us overlook—wild greens, nuts, berries, mushrooms—and how they can transform a meal. Foraging isn’t just about gathering food; it’s about seeing the world differently, rediscovering that nature is the original provider of our sustenance, not the boy on the e-bike, not the supermarket.

The way we eat shapes the world we live in. Each meal is a choice, a vote for the kind of future we want. Do we stay on the couch, or do we dig in? This isn’t about guilt—it’s about curiosity. A new way of eating isn’t just about what’s on the plate; it’s about how we connect to the earth, to each other, and to ourselves.