Amid the endless talk of decluttering and home organization, there are all kinds of strategies to inspire those who need help. One organizer offered a “kick start” method: one weekend, set a goal of removing 50 items from your home. Walk around with a box, and when you see something you haven’t used in a while or is worn out, put it in. She assured listeners hitting the 50-item mark would be very easy once they got started.
She’s probably right. But while we might be able to identify items, many of us struggle with actually getting rid of them. Intent is one thing. Follow-through is another. Those things cost money. How could anyone just get rid of them? I really like that, and it may fit again. Or the classic: I might need that… someday.
Yet while we agonize over parting with books, shoes, trinkets and gadgets, apparently one thing we find easy to dispose of is food. To the tune of billions of dollars—yes, billions—each and every year.
Canadians waste half of what is produced, worth $58 billion per year. Studies suggest 63 per cent is avoidable, meaning it is food that could have been eaten. The number has doubled in the last few years. Doubled. Even as we stress over rising food prices, we throw more and more away.
Most of us would never toss cash into the trash, yet we don’t seem to react as strongly to food waste. Picture $58 billion heading to the garbage. No way, right? But when it comes in the form of uneaten apples, cucumbers, meat, dairy or anything deemed unworthy of our table—away it goes.
At the same time, food bank numbers continue to rise, soup kitchens are stretched, and some schools are filling the gap for students arriving without breakfast or lunch.
Most of us would say we try to consume all the food we purchase, yet we find ourselves disposing of too much. The average Canadian household tossed $1,600 worth last year. Think about that. Who wouldn’t welcome an extra $1,600 at the end of the year?
Perhaps we overestimate what we need. Or maybe we crave variety and move on to something new instead of finishing what we have. We own so much food that we buy storage containers to hold leftovers or freeze excess—until it’s too late and there’s no choice but to throw it away.
Years ago, I was on a mission trip to Mexico. A story that stayed with me was of children heading to the dump on garbage day to search for food scraps. What others had discarded was treasure to those searching for something to eat.
Years later, in Mexico as a tourist, my husband and I attended a Culinary Theatre experience. We sat a few feet from the chef as he cooked, while screens overhead showed every step. Each course was served as it was finished. There was so much food. I’m certain much remained uneaten and headed back to the kitchen. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how many children might be climbing piles at the nearest dump to see what the resort was discarding.
Food waste is a global issue requiring multi-faceted solutions. In Denmark, an app helps consumers find restaurants and bakeries about to close where food can be bought at a fraction of the cost. France requires restaurants to donate unused food that is safe to eat. Sweden collects food waste to create fuel for buses. In Canada, organizations work to reclaim and redistribute food to reduce what gets tossed.
Trying to stretch food budgets dominates many conversations. One of the most important strategies seems to be using up what we already have and reclaiming some of the $1,600 we are wasting.
While global factors need to be addressed, the variable most in our control is what we put in our fridge and cupboards—and what makes it to our table. The best thing we can do is buy what we’ll eat and eat what we buy. That’s my outlook.
