Feeding The Soul

On convenience, craft, and the value of making something by hand

Very rarely does anything happen with a lightning bolt or a clap of thunder. Those moments where something snaps and a brand new realisation flashes in front of your eyes, grabbing focused attention. It doesn't really work like that.

Everything is a slow burn. Progressive steps made within a bigger context of evolution. Influences shape outcomes, environment dictates direction, heritage moulds ideas, and incremental shifts in perception go unnoticed. Until something tips the balance. Moments like this creep up unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon.

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There is a lot of chatter about broken food systems and food systems being out of balance. I see the relationship differently.

While I agree that the systems involved are not in balance, and that this imbalance has created a tension which is neither comfortable nor best serves the general interest — this is not a one sided relationship. Systems are in place as a reaction to demand. Small and inconsequential at first, then with growth comes momentum, and before long this momentum has pulled the initial demand in a different direction. Away from self-serving. Away from the core values at the heart of the origin story.

Momentum and growth then take on new shapes, forms and directions not dictated by those they serve, but by the desire for more momentum. This pulls away from value and becomes rooted in cost — in metrics measured by those not on the receiving end. Culinary culture within these systems is now at a place where convenience creates the most momentum. Around this, stories of saving time, no hassle and hacks feed that momentum further, steering it away from value.

What has been missed, in my opinion, is the richness of a culinary heritage and culinary culture that has quietly been lost. It is not the system that is out of balance but our relationship with how and what we eat. This is the balance that needs re-addressing.

Humanity is the personal statement shaped by a craft. Something shaped by a person's hands carries innate value. It shows care and provides a connection — and this connection is what binds a tribe, a community, a family. It stems from a desire to spend time, energy, emotion and resources directed away from the self. Away from simple personal desire, reaching out toward those we care about, those we value, those we want to have an impact on.

Making a meal from scratch, using whole ingredients, requires effort, thought, planning and time. It is an intentional action for a specific reason. If this is not a definition of value then what is? Value has to be engaged with at a meaningful and personal level. This is what is lost in the pursuit of convenience — in saving time, in removing effort with a hack. Where is the humanity in that?

There is no metric to measure this. No spreadsheet or numerical reflection to guide the level of intent. Any action, no matter how small, done by hand and from scratch shows value, care and makes a statement of intent. This is what holds humanity within reach — accessible to everyone, always achievable. There is no need to make a three course meal. A cup of tea and toast in bed for someone you love can hold more value than the grandest of gestures.

A shift here will be a far greater power for change than anything derived from the current systems. What is needed is not a new approach, but an old one that has been forgotten. One that values produce, values process and intent.

Cooking from scratch using whole ingredients is more than simply fuelling the body. It is feeding the soul.

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Sitting here now I can intellectually see this progression in my own life. Looking back, certain experiences at certain restaurants sit more comfortably than others. Food fashions I couldn't engage with — the Pacific fusion trend that swept across the restaurant scene. Mentors that slowly slipped away as my ethos developed and characters diverged. Then decisions I made come into focus with hindsight. Why did I look to avoid well-travelled ingredients on my menus? What made me seek out local producers? My sous chef complaining that I wouldn't use mango as he made the rhubarb ice cream. Decisions taken as just everyday that build a bigger picture over time.

Personal influences shape professional decisions. Sundays with my parents-in-law on their allotment, watching the boys mess about in the mud while I helped with the digging. Long Sunday roasts celebrating the spoils of the war on weeds and weather. My grandparents' back garden with its fruit trees for autumn crumble, veg patches where my grandad would curse the heavy clay soil for stunting his leeks, while the chives flourished and became the cornerstone of his signature cheese sauce.

This all forms a direction that at some point becomes the path to that moment of realisation where the balance tips and the shift is staring back in plain sight.

So here I sit, twenty odd years down the line, with a sense of clarity. A harmony that shapes choices and directs curiosity. All those years of incremental shifts, subtle changes from learning something new, from discovery and influence.

This clarity brings a sense of calm, not tension. A settled focus that sits next to influential systems rather than inside them. Not seeking conflict or to preach, but to happily say — this is my choice. And to see if that resonates with anyone else's curiosity.

A tribal ethos, perhaps. Humanity is born out of tribal beginnings, the comfort provided by security in a group. Or perhaps it is just as simple as acceptance — that allows a different view, a perspective from afar, without agenda or ego.

Step away and the air clears.

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Heritage | Environment | Craft

Curated with Terroir