When the supermarket runs out of food

As we rolled in 2020 with hopes set high for a new decade, I’m not sure many of us would have believed that we’d be in the midst of a global pandemic just a few months later. Covid-19 is rapidly evolving and still incredibly novel in many respects, yet already we face the harsh realities of lessons that need to be learnt (on a population, and even global scale).

Worryingly, it has become more apparent than ever how dependent the British public are on a handful of high-street supermarkets. We’ve seen panic-buying and shelves stripped bare, fights over tins of chopped tomatoes and pasta replacing all else in the desirability scale. Our own food delivery service has recorded unprecedented demand in recent weeks, with orders increasing by 160% in the space of just a few days. As a nation, we’ve un-ravelled the intricate network of events that are crucial in getting food onto our plates, and as a result, we’ve exposed our ignorance in the process.

Understanding the supply chain

So just how does our food end up on the supermarket shelves? Ironically, as we live in this age of globalisation with an abundance of information at our fingertips, it has become all too easy to disregard basic steps in the supply chain. The process of ordering to delivery and all the steps in between is almost abstract. You click ‘checkout’, and it arrives.

In the UK, around 50% of our food comes from overseas. Vast amounts of pasta, tinned tomatoes and olive oil (the holy trinity) are imported from Italy, while vitamins essential for mandatory fortification come from China. I’m sure we’ve all been into the supermarket and picked up a packet of broccoli (when we are almost sure it’s the British growing season) that has Kenya listed as its country of origin.

Under ordinary circumstances, suppliers work together with DEFRA to maintain food stocks. Under emergency circumstances, the Food Chain Emergency Liaison Group (run by DEFRA) bring together representatives from each step in the supply chain, from farmers to stockists, to give crucial government insight – including how to manage food supply should borders close.

The trouble is, it is still very much possible for demand to outstrip supply. There is only so much that can be pushed through distribution centres at a given time, there are only so many labourers to pick fresh fruit and vegetables (and indeed, perhaps less in a time of global pandemic) and there are only so many delivery drivers going into so-called ‘red’ zones of infection to pick up essential supplies. Bringing food from overseas also dictates our frightening reliance on borders remaining open, or at the very least, reliance on food delivery exceptions.

The cleverly constructed globalised chain of events that gets food onto our plates is fragile. If one element (or let’s say ‘screw’ for the purpose of this analogy) is pulled out, the whole shelf comes clattering down.

Feeding a nation requires co-operation

Recent events have reminded us just how much co-operation our connected world requires. Taking more fresh food than we could possibly eat, sabotaging the supply chain by members of the public going to wholesale meat-markets (like Smithfield in London, for example), and panic-buying dried goods until the shelves are bare, only leaves our delicate food chains scrawling to respond.

There are hidden casualties in these drastic behaviour changes too. Food bank services are buckling under pressure, relying on donations that have dried up and needing a greater number of distribution volunteers (as a result of social distancing measures). In these desperate times, it’s crucial that we come together to help support those most vulnerable, and we are doing just that by continuing to donate our surplus meat and fish to FareShare South West. Feeding the nation, it turns out, is a heroic effort that demands our co-operation and respect.

Provenance is paramount

There is of course, another great lesson to learnt from Covid-19 – the importance of buying British. British farmers have been facing an onslaught of media criticism in recent months, yet in times of crisis when the nation needs to be fed, suddenly all sense of rationality returns. Why would we choose to buy a chicken imported from Europe, reliant on borders being open and with far greater food miles than necessary, over and above the one raised here in Britain, with minimal food miles and a reliable contribution to the local economy?

We’ve seen this shift in behaviour first-hand. Customers have turned to us when supermarkets are bare, some expressing gratitude that we can still fulfil our deliveries, others expressing regret that it has taken this forced shift in buying habits to find our service. Undoubtedly, more of us than ever are realising the value in supporting local British supply chains. It is these small and home-grown networks that, even in the face of extraordinary pressure, have continued to function and respond with relatively little disruption.

If there is at least some good to come of this situation, we hope it includes an appreciation for traceable British meat & fish. We need to realise the crucial part our British farmers play in keeping the nation fed – particularly when they face the inevitable return of unnecessary media backlash in months to come.

Fundamentally, we must take responsibility to know how the food on our plate has arrived there, and we must continue to support those who work daily to make this possible.