For the first 20 years of my life, my diet was chicken, frozen potato gems, traditional home cooked meals I’d grown up with, a few select vegetables, and chocolate. I feared almost every other food.

Then at 20, someone took me to a seafood restaurant (of all things). 

He asked me to just ‘take a bite’ of his prawn, which had been battered and fried in tempura and wrapped in nori. I didn’t want to be a wimp. So I pushed aside my ‘no seafood because it’s too fishy’ rule, and I took a bite.

This strange sensation came over me – a rush of dopamine having tried something new, and the success of having something that agreed with my palate. Salty seaweed nori, then sweet, perfectly cooked prawn, crunchy tempura. It was an incredible feeling having tasted something so good, and the flavour carried me through the whole meal.

The upside of trying new things, new colours, new tastes was so much higher than not trying them that I had to find out for myself what else was out there. I tasted something new at every opportunity. I started asking questions about what I was being served. I devoured food magazines. I’d look at a food magazine and try to find the ingredient or make the dish, and both feats seemed unachievable. I’d contact the editors of the magazines to ask where they’d found certain foods, and they wouldn’t have an answer. ‘Try a farmers market’, was what they told me. 

I tried everything – farmers markets, meal kits, supermarkets, personal meal prep, community supported agriculture services, direct-to-farmer boxes of meats or vegetables, delivered ready meals, my own garden, and online groceries. But they did not feel proactive or personal. I was also feeling the effects of the time cost of grocery shopping, loading and unloading groceries, deciding on dinner, and cooking and cleaning up afterward – day, after day, after day. None of the solutions asked ‘what do humans need to function optimally?’