A week without avocados: my life on a strictly British plate

Well, here goes. Will I survive a week of no imported goodies and find the joy in British produce? Let’s find out.

The rules

1. Focus on British-grown food

The goal here is to support local agriculture and reduce food miles, not lose my sanity over a lack of variety. While seasonality isn’t the main focus of this challenge, it’s still worth keeping in mind. When fruit and veg are in season, they’re usually more abundant, tasty, and often better value too.

Farmers’ markets will be my go-to for fresh, homegrown staples, but when time (or energy) runs low, I’m thankful for supermarkets that make it easy to spot British-grown meat and veg. Look out for the Union Jack on labels – it’s a helpful guide, though it’s always worth double-checking, as things can occasionally end up in the wrong spot.

2. Decide your level of strictness

This is where I have to set clear boundaries for myself. I’m going to attempt to go full ‘purist mode’. This means that I’m cutting out tea, coffee and even the pepper I put on my chips. If the thought of a tea-free week feels unthinkable and you’re tempted to try this challenge yourself, don’t panic. There are still proper British brews out there – The Cornish Tea Company is a brilliant option for a homegrown cuppa that keeps things firmly local.

3. Cooking fat - no olive oil, no problem

Olive oil is definitely off the table. Instead, I’m leaning on trusty British butter and rapeseed oil. These fats might be more traditional, but they’ll bring plenty of flavour to my dishes, so I’m excited to see how they transform my cooking.

4. Rethink your carbs

Rice and pasta? Out. Instead, I’ll be exploring grains like barley, oats and spelt. They’re not just for porridge.

5. Herbs and spices - choose wisely

Classic dried spices like cumin and coriander are off-limits, but there are workarounds. I’ll be using herbs like thyme, rosemary and sage – all of which thrive in the UK.

6. (Learn to) Embrace the meat and two veg

The classic British combo of meat (or fish) and vegetables is my new best friend. Pork with apples, mackerel with mustardy greens – these dishes are a breeze when it comes to supporting British produce. Plus, I’m cutting out processed foods by default.

7. Flour: the wildcard

Because wheat is grown in the UK, I’ll be using British flour to make bread, pancakes, scones and other baked goods. I’ll skip the imported toppings, though, and load up on British cheeses, veg and meats.

8. Eggs to the rescue

Eggs are a godsend in this challenge. Frittatas, scrambled eggs or even a good old egg sandwich will keep me going without feeling deprived. Free-range British eggs will be my staple.

9. Plan ahead

This challenge requires serious meal planning. I’ll batch cook things like shepherd’s pie, chicken pie and fish pie (can you tell a theme here...) It’s surprisingly easy to slip up. Things like salt, sugar, vinegar and butter can all be imported, so I’ll be reading the labels carefully. If it’s not from the UK, it’s out.

10. Embrace imperfection

Look, I’m not aiming for perfection. If I accidentally nibble on a piece of chocolate or sip a cup of coffee from a friend, it’s not the end of the world. This challenge is about understanding where our food comes from and how reliant we are on imports. I’ll embrace the bumps along the way and see where this journey takes me.

The week

Monday

I won’t lie; the start date of this challenge was delayed more times than I care to admit. The thought of saying goodbye to my beloved pasta and pints was enough to make me put it off for a bit longer than planned. But, eventually, I had no choice. It was Monday, I was out of food and needed to do a proper shop (perfect timing, really).

Planning my meals for the week, I struggled with the idea that my usual go-to curries and pasta dishes were suddenly off-limits. Most of my favourite quick, comforting recipes were out – and after a long day, the last thing I want is to spend hours at the stove.

But, as it turns out, it reignited something I’d been missing. Instead of defaulting to my usual quick dinners, I started planning meals that took a little longer to cook – batch cooking dishes with depth and flavour that could stretch across the week or freezable dinners for when I wanted to kick my feet up. A big traybake here, a bubbling stew there – meals I could portion up and enjoy later, without compromising on taste or satisfaction. It wasn’t about cutting corners, just cooking smarter for the days when energy was in short supply.

Breakfast was a breeze – creamy scrambled eggs piled onto slices of homemade sourdough, courtesy of our resident bread maestro, Barney Desmazery. When Barney offered to bake me a British loaf, I knew I was in expert hands. With my usual go-to carbs off the table, I needed something satisfying to see me through the morning – and his perfectly airy, springy sourdough delivered in spades. It’s the kind of loaf that elevates a simple sandwich into something seriously memorable.

For tips and tricks on perfecting your own sourdough, watch our three-part sourdough series where Barney walks you through everything you need to know.

Tuesday

Tuesdays mean office days, and for breakfast, I treated myself to my favourite peanut butter overnight oats (cue the joy when I realised Sunpat peanut butter is British – score!).

Alas, the smugness was short-lived. My manager, ever the bearer of inconvenient truths, pointed out that while the brand is indeed British, the peanuts themselves are not. Apparently, the UK isn’t exactly brimming with peanut fields (who knew?). She found it hilarious that I’d never questioned this, but in my defence, I’m a born and bred Londoner. I’ve seen more Pret a Mangers than actual fields. I’m not even sure I could confidently identify a field of anything beyond "green and probably muddy". Lunch was a simple pea & ham soup, and I repeated this on my other office day. Easy, no-thinking-required food.

Wednesday

By Wednesday, though, the cracks were starting to show. The idea of eating chicken pie yet again was making my stomach churn, and after work, I was supposed to play netball and enjoy a post-match victory pint. But, sheer laziness made me stay dry as I couldn’t face researching British breweries. A sad affair, but it was probably better for my bank account (and my liver).

For a treat, I decided to indulge in one of my absolute favourite meals: breakfast for dinner. There’s something delightfully rebellious about it, and it always feels like a treat. Baked beans on toast, with a fried egg, completely drowning in cheddar. A proper comfort meal, and honestly, just what I needed to keep me going through the week. Gorgeous.

Thursday

As you may have noticed, the week was shaping up to be very bread-heavy, and that didn’t really change. I was quickly realising that my effort to cut down on air miles was starting to come at the expense of a balanced diet. While there were plenty of fresh, home-grown ingredients on offer – grains, greens, and all sorts of seasonal veg – most of them weren’t making it onto my plate. Companies like Hodmedod’s offer fantastic UK-grown beans and pulses, and there’s no shortage of homegrown options if you know where to look. It wasn’t that I had anything against cabbage, broad beans or those lesser-known British grains – it was more that I couldn’t face the extra prep or longer cooking times after a busy day. Old habits die hard, and convenience was still winning.

By Thursday, things took a turn. While shopping for what I thought would keep me on track for the weekend (cottage pie, a classic), I walked past one of those in-store sushi counters. And, well, the temptation was real. I broke. Would you believe me if I tried to argue that I was unaware salmon maki and gyozas were, in fact, not British? Yeah, I didn’t think so. I didn’t even bother pretending; I just grabbed a pack of sushi and tried to convince myself that this was a minor slip-up in my otherwise noble quest for local produce. I suppose this is where the challenge got a bit too real – sometimes, the heart (and the stomach) just wants what it wants, air miles be damned.

Friday, Saturday & Sunday

By Friday evening, I was exhausted. After a week of work, the only thing I wanted was to collapse in front of the telly with an absurdly large portion of cottage pie. I tried to balance out the overwhelming guilt from both the portion size and my rather sad “night in for a woman in her mid-twenties” by pairing it with some runner beans (for health, obviously) and a face mask (for a touch of luxury). The rest of the weekend followed suit with a similar, tragic energy. Already spent from the effort of such intense meal planning, and unable to organise or partake in any social events involving food or drink because of the level of admin necessary, I just didn’t go out. So the weekend became less about the diet and more about me questioning all of my life’s decisions over one too many spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

Unexpected discoveries

Yes it was a week of self-deprivation and difficulty, but there were also some bright points...

Surprising nutritional benefits of British produce

What I didn’t anticipate was just how rich and varied the nutritional benefits of British-grown food could be. Take leeks, for example. In the past, I’ve always seen them as little more than a simple base for a soup or stew, barely noticing their nutritional perks. But it turns out, leeks are a real powerhouse. Packed with vitamins A, C and K, they’re also full of antioxidants that protect cells from damage and fibre to help keep your digestive system in check. When I added them to my chicken pie, the leek brought a subtle sweetness and a delightful texture that elevated the dish in ways I hadn’t expected.

Then there were the runner beans. I’ll admit, I’ve always found them a little on the rubbery side, but I couldn’t ignore how versatile they are. With a little imagination, they’re the perfect addition to curries and stews, where they soften into a satisfying source of protein, fibre and vitamin C. By the end of the week, I was starting to think of them as a go-to vegetable, rather than an afterthought.

Now, kale. Prior to this week, kale has always struck me as the kind of leaf you’d find on the floor of a forest rather than on your plate. The thick stems had always seemed a bit too chewy for my liking. But here’s the thing: a quick blast in the oven with a drizzle of British rapeseed oil and a sprinkle of sea salt transformed this leafy green into a crunchy, satisfying snack that genuinely scratched the itch for something crispy but healthy. Who knew that something I’d always written off could be so delicious when cooked right?

Reconnecting with traditional British recipes and cooking methods

Another unexpected discovery was how much I enjoyed reconnecting with traditional British recipes. At first, the prospect of "meat and two veg" felt uninspired, but as the week went on, I found myself leaning into classic British comfort food recipes in a way I hadn’t before, especially due to how well they lend themselves to batch-cooking.

By deciding what I wanted for the week, I only had to cook two dinners and that was enough to tide me through. The simplicity of these recipes made me realise how much we’ve lost touch with our culinary roots, in favour of more exotic, trendy meals. Roasting, stewing and slow cooking became a therapeutic ritual, where the focus was on quality, local ingredients, rather than complex seasoning or fancy techniques. I felt like I was truly engaging with food the way it was meant to be – simple, honest and comforting.

Environmental and economic impacts of choosing local over imported foods

By the end of the week, the environmental benefits of eating local became glaringly clear. Not only had I managed to shrink my food’s carbon footprint ("fewer miles, less packaging"), but I also began to feel a connection to the local farming community. It’s funny how buying British produce can make you feel like you’re part of something bigger – a movement towards a more sustainable food system. Knowing my leeks, runner beans and kale were grown just 20 miles down the road – courtesy of my ever-cheerful fruit and veg man at the local farmers’ market – gave me that warm, smug glow that only comes from doing something good without really trying. It’s not just about feeding myself; it’s about backing local farmers who are grafting to grow food in a way that’s kinder to the planet. Delicious and do-gooding – what’s not to love? For example, the UK farming industry has set itself an ambitious target: to achieve net-zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2040. That’s no small feat when you consider the challenges they face. But it’s a powerful statement of intent that’s helping to shape a future where local food systems can thrive sustainably.

I realised that by choosing local produce, I was directly contributing to reducing the environmental impact of my food choices – lowering transport emissions, reducing packaging waste and supporting a more sustainable agricultural system. It felt like I was making a small but significant difference in reducing my overall environmental footprint.

Where do we go from here?

This challenge reminded me how important it is to know where your food comes from – but also to keep things realistic. Small, thoughtful changes matter, and it’s okay to take it one step at a time.

If you would like to learn more about what your food carbon footprint, then Good Food has a plethora of planet-friendlier content that you can delve into like how to cut your food carbon footprint, why eating sustainably is good for your health and more.