Since starting this newsletter I’ve tried to stay off the news cycle, but this week Foodbank Australia released its annual Hunger Report. And, well, the statistics are just too startling to ignore.
Here’s the big one: in the past 12 months, 3.7 million Australian households have experienced food insecurity. And of those 3.7 million more than 75% are experiencing food insecurity for the first time. They’re younger, mid to high income earners, and they’ve not been in this position before.
To be food secure is closely tied to disposable income, and the ability to acquire food that is nutritionally adequate, safe, and culturally nourishing. To be insecure is to never have enough to cover all household expenses, and when that happens it is women who are more likely to go without. Especially women who are single parents. When food is both sustenance and a symbol of care, if falls on the caregiver to provide.
Foodbank Australia’s CEO Brianna Casey told Australian media that the country is in “the midst of a food security crisis”.
The report is based on a July survey of 4342 people and indicates that the rising cost of living is the main driver for the additional 383,000 households claiming food insecurity since the 2022 report was issued. Rent, fuel, food, you name it, it’s gone up. In Australia, but also here in New Zealand where I’m based.
Here, food insecurity research is often linked to the government’s child poverty reduction targets. The Growing Up report indicates food insecurity has decreased for children since 2013/12, and yet some 17% of 12 year olds are still living in homes where food runs out, often or sometimes.
Telling people to plant a vegetable garden isn’t the answer to food insecurity…
A few weeks ago, just prior to the New Zealand general election (which ushered into power a centre right coalition), Dr Rebekah Graham wrote in her very good newsletter Dr Bex’s Substack that “what we need from all our governing bodies is a commitment to ensure that everyone can afford to eat and for all families to have reliable access to sufficient affordable, nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.”
Look, it’s hard to disagree with that statement. But the question always come backs to: how? How do we do that?
The New Zealand Labour Party floated a policy of removing GST on fresh fruit and vegetables and were promptly voted out. The NZ National Party – the majority partner in the new centre right coalition – suggested tax cuts, and despite some wobbly accounting for how these cuts will be funded, the voting public went for it. And yet, neither will do much to address the food crisis. The ideas are stale.
Dr Graham has spent a great deal of time researching food systems and the catalysts for food insecurity, and she writes that we need to be thinking differently about how we grow and share food. Some of that starts on the land, but moreover it requires a complete revision (is that even the right word?) of our food and value systems. In an earlier pre-election newsletter, Dr Graham suggested that in addition to voting, engaged citizens interested in systemic change needed to get to work. She listed a few priorities, and these three jumped out for me:
· Challenge capitalism and provide alternative economies.
· Integrate work and workers into new community alliances.
· Promote solidarity and a sense of connectedness.
Sounds nice. And the bit about solidarity and connectedness reminded me of a conversation I had with a young chef named Jayde Harris while I was making First Eat. I had invited Jayde to speak with me and Nakkiah Lui – my collaborator on the podcast – about her cooking career and to taste test a selection of native ingredients ‘cause we wanted to better understand what Indigenous cuisine looks like in New South Wales.
Jayde is a Gomeroi woman who grew up in northern New South Wales, near the Queensland border. But she now lives and works in Sydney.
The first ingredient we tried together was finger lime and Jayde declared that it would be delicious in a frozen margarita. Instead of the fresh lime juice add frozen finger lime. Brilliant, right?
Anyway, after that gem she started to tell us about her childhood. “Growing up, I felt like there was never enough,” she said matter-of-factly. That memory is literarily the definition of food insecurity.
A view of Sydney’s skyline. Not many trees in this part.
Now, while working in one of Sydney’s top restaurants, Jayde spends her days crafting exquisite desserts – she loves to labour over petit fours. Yet her comfort food is tinned fruit and Aeroplane Jelly, the tastes of her childhood. She’s thought a lot about the impact food insecurity had on her family. “Obviously I’m fine,” she said, trying to lighten the conversation. But… “the closest Coles or Woolies we had, we had to drive 20 minutes to get to. And if you didn't have a car, then like, what were you supposed to do?”
The only public transport from her small town to the nearest supermarket town was in the morning and the afternoon -- it was the school bus.
“I feel like it had a really big impact on like the choices that we did have to eat. We didn't have a lot of nutrient dense or high-quality foods, not a lot of fresh foods, to be honest.” She went on: “they take us and they put us in these missions and like, they take away our land and our food and they force us to buy their food. But if you can't get to their food, then like, sucks to be you.”
“Sucks to be you” is an understated summary of the impacts of colonisation in Australia, that’s for sure.
As the morning wore on, we tried a few more (tannin-rich) fruits and chatted about the ways such ingredients might be incorporated into European cuisine to subtly introduce Australian diners to native ingredients. Lillipilly parfait is a favourite and Jayde explained that an Indigenous colleague often collects the fruit, which is like a tart cherry, from around his home and brings it into the restaurant to use in desserts.
That recollection made her wonder why the city is not full of foods, not for chefs to use but for us to eat. Growing corridors near to those who need it most.
With a tone of exasperation, Jayde said: “In the cities, the [local] government will purposefully plant male trees that produce more pollen, so that you don't have female trees that produce fruit, so you can't have free food, so that you have to buy food.”
She’s right. Male trees are favoured by urban landscape planners because female trees can drop fruit, seeds and pods. The fruit rots, causing slipping hazards. It blocks drains, the seeds spawn trees in unwanted places – all reasons for complaint from residents who aren’t keen on free fruit. Female trees are problematic. Unless… you shift the value proposition.
A city with more trees is cooler, prettier, more liveable. A city with more female and male trees can also be more affordable and connected through alternative food models. If only urban landscape departments were prepared to be employ food producers as well as arborists.
How different would life be for those struggling to put fresh fruit and vegetables on the table if the city provided for them in public spaces? Jayde daydreams about picking a mandarin or banana off the tree for breakfast on her walk to work. I like the idea of warrigal greens from the community food gardens for dinner.
Here on the farm we talk a lot about creating feed corridors for the birds and insects to aid their journey around or across the farm. From manuka tree to flax bush flower and on to the vegetable garden and over to grazing paddocks full of clover, dandelion, yarrow and phacelia flowers. We have a lot of birds and insects because of it.
Now I’ve started thinking about feed corridors running through a city like Sydney. Is it a pipe-dream? Is there a city somewhere already doing it? If you know of any please share details! I’d love to dive deep on this topic.
Until next week...
A tribute to Jayde: Spicy fish taco with finger lime and char-grilled tomato salsa
Homemade corn chips and salsa, the best.
While I was chatting with Jayde about strategies for educating Australian diners about native ingredients and Indigenous cuisine, she made the very astute point that Australia’s abundant seafood can quite easily be categorised as a native ingredient. It’s a soft entry point for eaters who may shy from eating kangaroo (or anything related to Indigenous knowledge, for that matter — but that’s for a different newsletter).
So with that in mind, I wanted to share a recipe for spicy fish taco with finger lime and tomato salsa. I love making homemade tortilla, by-the-way. I learned the basics from Susana Villasuso Martinez, who blogs at lifelimonysal.com.
I make a version of her tomato salsa recipe when our tomatoes ripen and we have green garlic ready to be pulled. I think a sprinkle of finger lime atop would be spectacular. I can’t buy it in New Zealand, but when I’m next back in Australia I’ll be on the hunt for fresh finger lime.
Anyway, here’s the recipe charred tomato and capsicum salsa, it’s a delicious mix.
Ingredients:
3-4 ripe tomatoes, preferably from the garden so they taste like actual tomatoes
2 red chillies
2 garlic cloves
1 red capsicum
1/3 cup of water
2 tbsp of apple cider vinegar
1 tsp of sea salt and 1 tsp of ground black pepper
2 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil
1/2 white onion (finely diced)
1 cup of fresh coriander, (finely chopped)
Method:
In a hot pan char the tomatoes, chillies, garlic cloves and capsicum (no oil necessary). Once blackened or blistered, place the veggies into a blender, add the water, vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, blend briefly leaving your salsa a bit chunky, doesn’t need to be smooth this is what give this salsa that lovely rustic and appetising texture.
Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary, then place it in a bowl and add the raw onion and coriander, mix. And you’re DONE!
I serve this tortilla filled with chunks of fried firm flesh fish like warehou or trevally, or if you can afford it sustainably caught snapper!
Intelligent thoughtful writing, we need more of this. And I'm going to make the salsa!