When Jamie Oliver famously (and somewhat successfully) tried to convince Britain via his preferred medium – the television documentary – that they needed to improve the quality and nutrition of school lunches, the reaction from some bordered on hostile. People called him out for trying to tell them how to live their lives, how-very-dare-he and all that. The media showed images of mothers passing fried chicken and chips through school fences so their little preciouses wouldn’t have to eat what someone else found good for them (though to be fair, the media probably jumped on those photo ops, and it was probably far less widespread than they’d have had us believe).
Food is a damned sensitive subject. It is for me. I’m betting it is for you. It defines us culturally, socio-economically, and ethically. It forms the foundation of almost every ritual we share amongst friends and family (particularly if we add drink into this equation). We cannot live without it, and yet it kills far too many of us every year. Corporations have corrupted it beyond recognition, and activists the world over have dedicated their lives to rescuing it (and consequently us) and bringing it back to the nourishing, life-giving thing it was meant to be. Food.