Ómós Digest #145: Oily business
Does sustainable cooking oil exist? Written by Cúán Greene.
One of the most fulfilling things to come out of this newsletter is when readers take value from the writing. In some cases, taking to the streets in search of what was suggested, whether that be bean-to-bar chocolate, a worthy meal, or in this case a thought-provoking art exhibition… In the weeks that have followed Claudia Dalby’s article reviewing ‘The Quickening’, by artist and environmentalist Deirdre O’Mahony, a slew of messages filled my inbox from those who had attended the exhibition. Rather ashamedly, by that point, I hadn’t. But that changed last week. Despite the sunshine on Saturday, I wandered into an almost pitch-black Douglas Hyde Gallery. I sat mildly aware of what was coming up, yet unprepared for the unique delivery of the obvious message: The world is melting. We are to blame. Canvassed across a cinema-sized screen, pensive statements filled the room narrated by what could be considered as a modern-day female Seanchaí (Irish storyteller), contrasted by magnified visuals of insects going about their restorative business, (unlike the majority of us) devout to assisting nature. Her resounding voice announced, “In the agricultural industry, the only line is the bottom line, below that line lies the soil”, followed by the statement, “Nature shrinks as capital grows.” I realised that the 38-minute showing documented what I preach and believe in, but was delivered in a way that informed the viewer that despite our negligence, all is not lost if we act.
At times, it's unavoidable to feel that our individual efforts toward climate change feel ineffective. It can be demoralising and feel unmistakably lonely. However, a collective effort can make change - it requires belief and communication. A quote I learnt a couple of weeks ago, while in attendance at the Wild Atlantic Rainforest Project hosted by Hometree, still rings true in my head: “Climate pessimism is an act of climate denial.” Restaurants and hotels are some of the biggest producers of food waste and therefore have a responsibility to act responsibly. However, I often feel sympathy for small businesses, such as independent cafés and restaurants, who carry the burden and pressure of investing in more sustainable packaging, when conglomerates like food manufacturers, plutocrats or supermarkets do as they please, with no impact on their turnover. For many small businesses, the trade-off for such enormous additional expense is marketing. Those who are seen to act benefit from giving customers a feel-good factor that results in increased business. It’s a cynical view but ultimately there’s no denying it. The good news is that this collective effort in a competitive market means there’s no option but to play the sustainable game, whether that decision is driven strategically, one of good conscience or in most cases, a balance of both. What I have also observed over the years is not to underestimate the impact that high-end restaurants have on macro businesses. Top restaurants around the world, notably chefs, are considered industry leaders, with their actions mirrored by the rest of the industry and their experience acknowledged by global industries seeking to innovate. I know this because my partner works in innovation and I consistently see large companies pulling from the knowledge of skilled chefs and adopting it in their systems. Look at Doug McMaster of Silo restaurant in London, for example. His devotion to achieving ‘zero waste’ has resulted in his restaurant achieving worldwide acclaim, inspiring not only his employees to pursue values that mirror that of Silo’s, but to inspire industries all over the world to think and act more sustainably, and for that, they deserve the marketing recognition they receive.
Considering this, I have been thinking about the impact of Ómós. Inevitably when we open, we’ll use sustainable soaps and linen. We’ll grow regeneratively and source locally and ethically. We commit to reducing waste as best we possibly can, putting in place measures that actively achieve that, such as investing in renewables, reed beds for filtration and composting onsite. But controversially perhaps, more important than our own carbon footprint, is how we message what we are doing. Done successfully, this messaging may attract the more sustainably minded customer, it may result in better occupancy, it may even give our staff fulfilment but, additionally, our actions can convince massive hotel chains, manufacturers, other businesses and customers to be inspired to change their ways and make a difference.
With this in mind, I wanted to take a look at the bulk food used in the food industry and see what decisions could be made within the supply chain, with the least environmental impact. I’ve reviewed the biggest contributors of CO2 emissions, land and water usage, such as beef, chocolate, coffee, prawns and grain. It led me to take a deep dive into the world of oil, which accounts for 37% of the total land area dedicated to agricultural crops. The cheap vegetable oil bought in supermarkets for frying is a mix of highly refined palm, soybean, sunflower, canola (rapeseed), and other seed oils. We are all aware that refined seed oils like these (due to the the refining or purifying techniques that use chemicals) are not overly healthy to eat in any great amount or frequency, due to the healthy fats converting to trans fat, as a result of the hydrogenation process that extends the shelf life. Extra virgin olive oil and other cold pressed oils are healthier substitutes as they are unrefined, retaining the healthy fats. But what do we know about the environmental impact of oils? And what oils should we use for cooking?