Every day, across the UK, the familiar chime of a microwave or the crinkle of a plastic wrapper signals our growing reliance on convenience. Supermarket aisles are awash with ready meals and grab-and-go snacks, while the ubiquitous convenience store sits at the heart of nearly every neighbourhood. This is more than a fad: it’s a seismic shift in how we live and eat. Convenience shapes our routines. It tempts us with speed and ease. But at what cost do we surrender to it?
For many, the lure of food that’s ready in minutes is undeniable. Think of the frazzled commuter. The parent juggling three jobs. The night-shift worker returning home at dawn. Convenience foods break down barriers of time and geography, while for people with disabilities or limited resources, these foods are a lifeline, offering access to meals otherwise inaccessible. The rise of ready meals has also democratised tastes, making more exotic cuisines possible for anyone with a few quid and a microwave.
The cost of quick food
Yet behind the ease lies a range of ethical questions. Take, for example, the proposed merger between Greencore and Bakkavor, set to create a “convenience foods giant”. Is it convenient – for some – to have more power in fewer hands?
Then there’s the environmental cost. Each individually wrapped portion means more plastic, more waste, more carbon emissions from chilled delivery vans. On the nutritional front, many convenience foods are ultra-processed, packed with salt, sugar, and fat, and disproportionately marketed to those with the least to spend. And what of the people who grow, harvest, and package our food? Their labour, often invisible, underpins the entire system.
Beyond health and the planet, there’s something deeply human at stake. The ritual of sharing meals – the stories told over simmering pots, the traditions carried on from generation to generation – can fade when dinner comes shrink-wrapped and eaten alone. Convenience wedges itself not just into our diets, but into the fabric of our communities.
Convenience culture
So, what’s the solution? First, we must redefine convenience – not as a synonym for unhealthy, but as an opportunity. Truly convenient foods can be nourishing and accessible. Yet all too often, lists of ‘healthy convenience foods’ feel aspirational, loaded with ingredients out of reach for many. If you’re time-rich and resource-rich, don’t be too quick to judge – convenience fills a real need.
But can we break free from convenience culture altogether? Our lives are hectic, often stressful. Pressing pause, even briefly, to consider the stories behind our food, will help. The slow food movement has much to welcome. Looking longer-term, we can reclaim our power as food citizens – demanding better options, supporting fair labour, and building communities around real meals, not just calories in a box.
Yes, convenience feels convenient. But we should also ask who it serves and what might it take to loosen its grip? Food businesses and government have questions to answer about the impact of convenience on our health, our communities and our planet.
Dan Crossley, executive director at the Food Ethics Council
No comments yet