Learning to love
Real love takes work: putting in the effort, or what a friend refers to as "building a bridge" to understand the other. As I started falling in love with my food, I found myself not just building a bridge, but crossing it in search of the whole story. Looking past nutrients, calories and FODMAPs, I wanted to understand the environmental impact of what was on my plate. And what I found shocked me.
Why do all the easily available, good-looking foods have so much baggage?
And I'm not just talking about the fast one-night stands. Like pizza, burgers, fried chicken. Even the wholesome-looking ones you'd take home to meet your mom. Milk, avocados, almonds. If she knew some of their backgrounds, the stories of exploitation, depletion and mistreatment, she would never let them in the door, much less invite for dinner. Digging deeper was devastating at first as more and more of my favourites were revealed to be frogs in princes' clothing.
Eventually bestie rescued me from a fate worse than veganism* - a life without food love - with her insistently positive outlook. What she calls 'realistic optimism' and what I call annoying, especially when I'm mid-sulk. "Let's find the good guys", she said. "They exist. And if we find them, we can share them".
Our goal and philosophy is simple. To love, guilt-free.
Our approach started off sensibly: let's try to do no harm. But aiming for neutral soon felt insipid. How could we fall in love with neutral? Knowing we were biting off more than we could comfortably chew, we started searching for the great guys - the foods, farmers, fisherman, suppliers and distributors that have positive impact. All the way through from creation to consumption, we want to do our part to sustain and support the business of giving and receiving nourishment.