Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall has spent decades challenging how we think about food, the environment, and the way we live. Through his trailblazing television series, best-selling books, and campaigns – from tackling food waste to fighting destructive fishing practices – Hugh has become a defining voice in the movement for a healthier, more thoughtful relationship with the world around us.
In this conversation, Hugh delves into the early experiences that inspired his connection to the natural world, explains the transformative potential of regenerative farming, and makes the case for why rethinking how we approach healthcare, education, and nutrition could hold the key to solving some of today’s most pressing challenges.
Living here in East Devon, I’m surrounded by nature. I walk through a little stretch of woodland, which is luckily half of our farm, several times a week and often see roe deer and all sorts of other lovely things. It’s a constant source of comfort and nourishment – something I think about and feel every single day.
As for where that connection began, there’s a pretty clear moment in my life that shaped it. I was five years old, living in London, just starting primary school, when my mum and dad decided to uproot our lives and move to the countryside. They’d both had their own connections to rural life – partially country childhoods – and they had friends who lived in the countryside. I suppose they wanted that for us too. So, in 1970, we left London and arrived at a rented farmhouse in Gloucestershire.
I remember that day as if it were yesterday. The house had a vegetable garden left by the previous tenants, and my sister and I ran around picking peas and carrots. It was early summer, and the experience was astonishing. Everything changed for me in that moment. We found ourselves in a big farming community where a lot of the villagers worked on the surrounding farms. I spent my days hitching rides on combine harvesters, feeding sheep in the frosty mornings from the back of a Land Rover, and exploring the woods with my friends.
It was a completely different world from the one I’d known in London. I’d run wild through the countryside, climbing trees, wading through streams, and doing things that we wouldn’t dream of today – like collecting birds’ eggs, making little holes in them, blowing them out, and carefully storing them in sawdust-lined drawers. Back then, no one worried much about bird populations. It was just part of the adventure of being immersed in nature, and it was all so full of life and abundance.
I literally remember the bugs-on-the-windscreen phenomenon. You’d only have to drive to the nearest town and back – particularly at night – and your windscreen would be covered. That abundance of insect life was so vivid, but it was also something we just took for granted. It wasn’t about feeling a responsibility to look after it back then; it was just exciting and fun to be around.
When you’re allowed to think less and less about where your food comes from, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that food is a gift of nature.
Looking back now, that move to the countryside was one of the most formative moments of my life. It planted a seed in me, though I didn’t fully understand it at the time. When I spent my twenties living in London, I felt a pull – a longing to return to that connection with nature. I wanted to live closer to the land again and have some of the fun that my parents had – growing our own food and living in tune with the seasons. What I didn’t realise at the time was that this connection to nature would go on to shape my entire life and career.
That connection has deepened over the years, but it’s hard not to reflect on how much has changed since those early days. The abundance I grew up with isn’t there anymore, and it’s alarming. People’s disconnection from the natural world feels linked to so many of the challenges we face today, particularly the way we eat. When you’re allowed to think less and less about where your food comes from, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that food is a gift of nature.
Even with highly intensive, artificial farming methods, you can’t bypass nature entirely. You still need a seed, a plant, or an animal. Fertility in the soil still matters, even if you’re using fossil fuel-based fertilisers or feeding crops to animals that wouldn’t naturally eat them. Somewhere along the line, nature always has to pay.
That disconnection has brought us to a critical point. The population is climbing, and so is the demand for food. But I don’t believe we’re destined to overload the system. What we’ve overlooked for so long is the extraordinary capacity of nature to regenerate – particularly the fertility of the soil. And if we can discipline ourselves to eat a lot less meat, that will help a lot. My omnivorous habits are constantly under review. Almost all the meat I eat is from animals I’ve reared here at home, but I wouldn’t rule out concluding we can’t really afford to eat meat at all.
I’ve supported organic farming ever since I learned what it meant, and it’s still a brilliant framework for farming in harmony with nature. Regenerative farming doesn’t necessarily tick all the boxes of organic certification, but it taps into the incredible ability of soil to regenerate its fertility. Instead of relying on fossil fuel-based fertilisers, regenerative farming seeks to harness natural processes – like mycorrhizal systems and soil microbiology – to boost fertility. It’s about working with nature, not against it.
What excites me is the idea of reaching a tipping point in regenerative agriculture, much like we’ve seen with renewable energy. Renewable energy is now the most cost-effective way to generate power, and that shift has been unstoppable – even in the face of political resistance. Even Trump’s “drill, baby, drill,” mantra won’t be able to stop the momentum of renewables. The tipping point has already been reached – it’s the cheapest option, and businesses won’t abandon it. He won’t be able to pull the rug out from under the US renewables industry, just as it can’t be reversed in China or the EU.
Medicine, as it stands, is still so much about heroic cures rather than the everyday prevention that could make such a difference.
There’s a massive opportunity here to transform not just our relationship with nature but also our health. Social prescribing – where doctors recommend spending time in nature – is a great step forward, but it’s still niche. It could genuinely sit at the heart of health transformation, and that’s something we need to address in how we train our doctors and nurses.
But here’s the thing – even before we start talking about prescribing time outdoors or walks in the park, we’re missing something fundamental: there isn’t even a focus on prescribing healthy eating. Nutrition just isn’t part of the standard training for doctors. Time and time again, I’ve heard doctors say they had to learn about nutrition on their own because it simply wasn’t covered at medical school. And medicine, as it stands, is still so much about heroic cures rather than the everyday prevention that could make such a difference. That’s a mindset we desperately need to shift.
Governments could help things along by pulling some key levers – many of which have already been identified by NGOs and experts. There’s a strong consensus around the need to cut down on ultra-processed foods and encourage people to eat more vegetables. But that requires action. Whether it’s reforming medical education or implementing policies that nudge people towards healthier choices, the steps are there. They’re just not being taken.
If governments can interfere to that extent during a pandemic, why can’t they intervene in what I think is an even bigger epidemic – obesity.
I often draw a parallel to the government’s response during the pandemic. Governments weren’t shy about intervening in people’s lives then – they told us to stay at home, shut businesses, and adapt to all sorts of extraordinary measures. Now, I’m not saying those measures were wrong, but the ‘stay inside’ message was fundamentally wrong. What we really needed was encouragement to get outside, breathe fresh air, and of course try to avoid people as much as possible.
The bigger issue, though, is this: if governments can interfere to that extent during a pandemic, why can’t they intervene in what I think is an even bigger epidemic – obesity? The unhealthy, ultra-processed foods people eat are making them sick and placing an unbearable burden on the NHS. I raise this point every chance I get because I haven’t heard enough people making it.
We’re seeing government trial ideas like offering free obesity injections – Ozempic. That’s just a sticking plaster – it doesn’t tackle the root cause. Worse, it allows the fast-food industry to carry on as usual. What we really need are bold structural changes. For instance, why not incentivise companies to reformulate their products? If they made their foods a bit healthier – less sugar, more fibre, fewer additives – they could be rewarded with access to prime advertising slots. It’s not about vilifying businesses; it’s about creating a system where everyone wins.
Cooking, too, is part of this cultural shift. People often think cooking is a chore, but for me, it’s an utterly lovely moment in the day. I’ll pour myself a little glass of wine, listen to my evening comedy on Radio 4, and take the leftovers out of the fridge. For other people, that might sound stressful, but it’s not going to become a widely appreciated thing unless we introduce a bit of that culture to kids early on. If we can show them how wonderful fresh ingredients are – like holding a handful of vibrant vegetables and seeing how colourful and fun they can be – it can make a real difference. It’s about starting those connections young, so cooking becomes something to enjoy rather than avoid.
Ultimately, I think the key is helping people find their own way into nature. For some, that might mean taking a walk in a nearby park or canal path. For others, it could be something as simple as picking blackberries in autumn or nettles in spring. Foraging may seem like a niche interest, something cheffy or middle class – but it really is open to everyone. And it’s free, wild food that connects us to the land. Even if you live in a top-floor flat, you could grow herbs in a window box and enjoy the satisfaction of nurturing something green. These small steps might seem insignificant, but they can be life-changing. They help us reconnect with the natural world, shift our perspectives, and rediscover the joy of slowing down.
The challenges we face are daunting, but I do believe in the power of culture to change. It doesn’t happen all at once, but ideas take root, attitudes shift, and over time, those seeds grow into something transformative. If I can play even a small part in that shift – helping people see the beauty and importance of the natural world – I’ll feel like I’ve done something worthwhile.
As told to Charlotte Owen-Burge on 21 January 2025. This conversation was edited & condensed for clarity.
Want to take action?
Here are some organisations Hugh supports to promote sustainable food systems, protect nature, and improve community health.
Locally
Nationally
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