Food for Thought #2: Are Taste and Pleasure the Key to Responsibility and Change?
Eating is often framed as an either-or dilemma between pleasure and responsibility. But what if it didn’t taste like sacrifice, but like sun-ripened tomatoes or crispy sourdough bread?
In the last edition of Food For Thought, I explored the idea that food is far more than just sustenance. I shared foundational works and perspectives that have shaped my thinking—and still do. I examined how food is deeply intertwined with culture, society, politics, and ecology, and how it offers us a new lens on the world.
How Food Became My Lens for Understanding the World
·In the last issue, I wrote about the idea that food is never just food—it is culture, history, identity, and connection. But where does this perspective come from? This time, I want to take a step back and tell you more about the foundations of my thinking: my background, the main theories from my studies, and a field experience in Mexico.
This time, I want to take that idea a step further. Precisely because food is so connected to every aspect of society, I believe it has the power to be a catalyst for change.
When I talk about my work as a communications strategist in the fields of food and agriculture, I’m often met with a polite smile. Culinary communication? To many, it sounds like a purely indulgent field—beautiful products, delicious moments, plenty of good food. When I mention visiting small-scale producers, it conjures idyllic images straight out of advertising: happy animals on lush green pastures, picture-perfect farmhouses.
Food and everything tied to it is often viewed as a topic of enjoyment—something people appreciate and love, but not necessarily as something socially or politically significant. That might seem discouraging at first. But to me, it holds the key: precisely because pleasure plays such a central role in our lives—because it is something people aspire to, because it is an intrinsic part of daily life, and because it is deeply connected to our sense of a good life—it has the potential to be a powerful driver of change.
Why Change is necessary
Our food system has a massive impact on the climate—and, by extension, on our planet’s future. Between 21 and 37 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions1 stem from food production, with agricultural activity alone accounting for 20 to 25 percent2. The production of animal-based foods plays a particularly significant role: industrial livestock farming is responsible for about 14.5 percent of global emissions3—more than the entire transportation sector combined. Methane, released through the digestion of ruminants like cattle, is roughly 25 times more harmful to the climate than CO₂4. Meanwhile, the production of animal feed contributes to deforestation, particularly for soybean cultivation, most of which is used as livestock feed.
But it’s not just meat consumption that affects the climate. The way we grow, transport, process, and waste food is just as crucial. Around 40 percent of all food produced worldwide never gets eaten, and food waste—from farm to fork—accounts for nearly 10 percent of global emissions5.
These numbers make one thing clear: our food system is not just a driver of climate change, but also a key leverage point for transformation. And because food touches so many aspects of society, it can also be a crucial tool in addressing the climate crisis. I firmly believe that mindful enjoyment can make a difference—not through dogma, but through conscious choices. Not through deprivation, but through intentional pleasure. Not through rigid rules, but through responsible action.
So where does this idea come from?
Discovering the Slow Food Movement
In the last Food For Thought issue, I talked about a study trip to Mexico 15 years ago. That journey profoundly shaped my understanding of food, culinary culture, and the transformative power of what we eat.
It was also in Mexico that I first encountered the international Slow Food movement. Slow Food took root there in the 1990s and has since evolved into a social, ecological, and cultural initiative dedicated to preserving the country’s unique food traditions.
Mexico’s fertile ground for Slow Food can be traced back to its extraordinary biodiversity: home to around 12 percent of the world's species and nearly 7 percent of global ecoregions, the country boasts an incredible variety of traditional foods6. Today, 180 products are protected under Slow Food’s Ark of Taste, a catalog of endangered, artisanally produced foods7.
One of the most fascinating discoveries of my trip was the milpa system—a centuries-old agricultural method that remains essential to Indigenous diets.
The term milpa, from the Náhuatl language, means “what is sown in the field.” It describes an intricate system of intercropping: maize, beans, and squash grow together in perfect synergy—corn provides support for climbing beans, beans enrich the soil with nitrogen, and squash shades the ground, preserving moisture. This system is further complemented by tomatoes, chilies, edible wild greens (quelites), and fruit trees, creating a sustainable and resilient form of farming that supports biodiversity and maintains soil fertility.8
Closely linked to the milpa is nixtamalization.
It’s an ancient technique where maize is cooked in an alkaline solution. This process not only enhances the corn’s nutritional value and digestibility but also deepens its flavor. Used since pre-Columbian times, nixtamalization is the foundation of masa de tortilla, the dough behind tortillas, tamales, enchiladas, and pozole9.
But these artisanal traditions are under threat. Hybrid and genetically modified corn varieties are displacing heirloom types like Mixe/ maíz nativo blanco, or Bolita, and industrial tortillas are replacing carefully prepared masa. Organizations like Slow Food and Sin Maíz, No Hay País work to protect these traditions—not out of nostalgia, but as a foundation for a sustainable and equitable food system that safeguards cultural heritage, the environment, and the climate.
From Resistance to a Global Movement
But let’s get back to the Slow Food movement. In 1986, McDonald's opened a restaurant at the Piazza di Spagna in Rome, a symbol of the growing dominance of industrialized food. Not everyone welcomed this development. Italian journalist and food advocate Carlo Petrini saw it as a threat to culinary diversity and local food artisans. His protest against fast food is now seen as the beginning of the global Slow Food movement.
The story of Slow Food and Carlo Petrini began long before the famous 1986 protest at the Piazza di Spagna in Rome. Its roots trace back to the 1970s, when Petrini started delving into Italy’s food culture and the industrialization of food production. Born in 1949 in Bra, a small town in Piedmont known for its exceptional food and wine, Petrini was politically and culturally active from an early age. He was involved in the leftist student movements of the 1960s and ‘70s and played a key role in Arci (Associazione Ricreativa e Culturale Italiana), an organization focused on culture, social justice, and community life. Within Arci, he founded Arci Gola, a subgroup dedicated to culinary culture and traditional foods.
These early years were shaped by a growing realization that food is not just about taste—it has political, ecological, and cultural significance. Industrialization and fast food were eroding Italy’s culinary diversity, and Petrini saw this not just as a loss of flavor but as a threat to cultural identity. By the late 1970s and early 1980s, Arci Gola became more active, supporting small-scale producers, promoting traditional foods, and protesting against mass-produced, low-quality food. Initially a movement rooted in Italy, its ideas quickly began to spread: The turning point came in 1986, when McDonald's announced plans to open a location at the Piazza di Spagna in Rome. The protest against McDonald's became a creative act of resistance: demonstrators gathered with bowls of pasta, advocating for slow, mindful, and joyful eating.
What started as a fight against the homogenization of taste quickly grew into a comprehensive initiative for sustainable food production, artisanal traditions, and regional food cultures. Petrini’s philosophy rests on a simple but revolutionary idea: food should be good, clean, AND fair.
Good means food that is delicious, high-quality, seasonal, and rooted in culinary traditions.
Clean refers to ecological sustainability—food production should neither harm the environment nor human health.
Fair ensures that all participants in the food system—from farmers to people in gastronomy and consumers—are treated equitably and paid fairly.
These principles make Slow Food more than just a culinary movement. They form a social and ecological manifesto for a better food system—one that sees pleasure not as the opposite of sustainability, but as the key to transformation.
To this day, I find this trio of ideas unmatched. Because I firmly believe: Change doesn’t come from sacrifice, but from mindful enjoyment. And that’s exactly what Slow Food embodies.
Taste as the Bridge between Enjoyment and Responsibility
The quality of food, the craftsmanship behind its production, and our ability to truly taste and appreciate it—all of these play a crucial role. This has always been a core belief of the Slow Food movement. When we consciously smell, taste, and recognize the nuances of food, it changes everything.
Take an example many can relate to: a sun-ripened tomato, hanging heavy on the vine, its skin stretched taut under the heat of a midsummer’s day. Maybe you grew it yourself on your balcony or in your garden, patiently waiting for the perfect moment of ripeness. Then, the first bite—the flesh still warm from the sun, bursting with juice, offering that incomparable balance of sweetness and acidity that only a tomato grown under open skies can achieve. Who would ever willingly go back to a bland, watery greenhouse tomato after that?
I’ve always thought the Austrian word Paradeiser (literally meaning “from paradise”) captures the essence of a perfectly ripe tomato better than any other. It hints at the fruit’s peak ripeness, its almost otherworldly taste—like a taste of paradise itself. No other word conveys the warmth, the depth of flavour, or the sheer sensuality of this fruit as well. A ripe Paradeiser, kissed by the summer sun, is nothing less than a small slice of heaven—perhaps even one of the most beautiful flavours in the world.
Or think of a loaf of sourdough bread from your neighborhood bakery (thank you, Vienna!): a crust that crackles as you break it, deeply brown (I prefer mine on the darker side), releasing an irresistible aroma. The crumb—soft, airy, with just the right balance of lightness and substance. A bread that doesn’t just fill you up but tells a whole story of time, craftsmanship, and patience.
It all begins long before the dough is even kneaded—with the cultivation of grain. The quality of the bread is determined by the care of the farmer, by the soil, the weather, and the perfect timing of the harvest. Then comes the threshing, the milling process that transforms whole grains into flour. In the bakery, water, salt, and sourdough are brought together into a dough that needs one essential ingredient—time. No additives, no shortcuts, no attempts to cheat the natural rhythm of fermentation. Instead, patience. The dough rests, develops, deepens in flavour. Every extra hour of fermentation makes the bread more digestible, more complex, more real.
Anyone who has ever tasted the difference between mass-produced bread and a carefully crafted sourdough loaf will instinctively choose quality. Because when we can taste the difference, our choices are no longer dictated by price alone but by appreciation. And when that happens, we support sustainable, fair food—not out of obligation, but out of genuine pleasure.
Is Pleasure the Key to Change?
This very question came up in an inspiring conversation I had this week with a Viennese restaurateur who shares a similar belief. In the vegan restaurant she runs with her partner, everything revolves around the pure flavour of plant-based ingredients. Their goal? To delight and inspire with a fine-dining menu made entirely from regional, organic vegetables—and in doing so, to encourage more climate-conscious choices, effortlessly. If plant-based cuisine can taste so good that no one even misses animal products, wouldn’t that be the best proof that change through pleasure is possible?
And in the end, that’s one of the core messages of this essay series:
What if change doesn’t start with restrictions, but with taste?
What if inspiration, rather than sacrifice, was the driving force?
What if transformation suddenly felt effortless—simply because it tasted better?
More Food for Thought:
Petrini, Carlo (2001):
English: “Slow Food: The Case for Taste”
German: „Slow Food. Genießen mit Verstand” (2003)
The first book in which Carlo Petrini lays out the fundamental ideas of Slow Food—a mix of manifesto, essays, and practical examples.
Petrini, Carlo (2005):
Italian Original: “Buono, pulito e giusto: Principi di una nuova gastronomia”
German: „Gut, sauber und fair. Grundsätze einer neuen Gastronomie“ (2007)
One of the key works on Slow Food philosophy, in which Petrini describes a new, sustainable approach to gastronomy that unites pleasure, environmental protection, and social justice.
Petrini, Carlo (2010):
Italien Original: “Terra madre. Come non farci mangiare dal cibo”
English: “Terra Madre: Forging a New Global Network of Sustainable Food Communities” (2010)
German: „Terra Madre. Für ein nachhaltiges Gleichgewicht zwischen Mensch und Mutter Erde“ (2011)
A deep dive into the international Terra Madre network of Slow Food, which connects small-scale farmers, producers, and consumers worldwide.
IPCC (2019): Climate Change and Land: an IPCC special report on climate change, desertification, land degradation, sustainable land management, food security, and greenhouse gas fluxes in terrestrial ecosystems. In: Shukla P. R., J. Skea, E. Calvo Buendia, V. Masson-Delmotte et al. (eds.). Summary for Policymakers
IPCC (2019): Climate Change and Land: an IPCC special report on climate change, desertification, land degradation, sustainable land management, food security, and greenhouse gas fluxes in terrestrial ecosystems. In: Shukla P. R., J. Skea, E. Calvo Buendia, V. Masson-Delmotte et al. (eds.). Summary for Policymakers
IPCC (2019): Climate Change and Land: an IPCC special report on climate change, desertification, land degradation, sustainable land management, food security, and greenhouse gas fluxes in terrestrial ecosystems. In: Shukla P. R., J. Skea, E. Calvo Buendia, V. Masson-Delmotte et al. (eds.). Summary for Policymakers