These days, buzzwords like “sustainability” and “seasonality” feature regularly on menus (Photo: Getty Images)
These days, buzzwords like “sustainability” and “seasonality” feature regularly on menus (Photo: Getty Images)

KaiJanuary 8, 2019

The dining out dilemma: How ethical is your restaurant meal?

These days, buzzwords like “sustainability” and “seasonality” feature regularly on menus (Photo: Getty Images)
These days, buzzwords like “sustainability” and “seasonality” feature regularly on menus (Photo: Getty Images)

Restaurant dining can present even more complex issues than daily decisions at the supermarket or at home. But what responsibility do chefs have to inform and shape their diners’ eating habits?

Nowadays, ethical eating is often presented as a truism: we are told we should all be making ethical food choices, not only at home but also when we dine out.

However, it’s become something of a marketing ploy in the food world. Restaurants increasingly are presenting their menus and practices as ethical, throwing around buzzwords like “sustainability” and “seasonality”, particularly those establishments with high-profile or celebrity chefs.

But what do these words really mean to the people dining there? Do chefs – particularly those trend-setting ones – have greater responsibilities these days to promote more ethical forms of eating? And are they doing enough to change the ways in which we think about dining and food in general?

The quick answer is: it depends. What makes food (or the menus at restaurants) “ethical” is not typically assessed by most of us using one standardised definition, except perhaps strict vegans who eschew all animal products. Our food values differ based on our outlooks, past experiences and, perhaps most importantly, how we balance various trade-offs inherent in food choices under different circumstances.

For instance, although many people are starting to reduce or eliminate meat consumption for environmental reasons or due to animal welfare concerns, others are turning to wild or game meats as a more ethical way of continuing to eat meat.

Most interesting, perhaps, are those known in Australia as “kangatarians”, or those who believe hunting wild game is the most ethical choice for meat eaters as they are taking responsibility for the killing, keeping feral populations in control and hence benefiting the environment.

Rene Redzepi of Noma (right) foraging in South Australia (Photo: Getty Images)

The Noma 2.0 ethical dilemmas

When it comes to restaurants, these dilemmas can feel more pronounced. Can a chef, for instance, promote foraging, seasonality and plant-based eating, yet also serve meat and other animal-derived protein products on the same menu?

An example that immediately comes to mind is Danish chef Rene Redzepi, co-owner of the two-Michelin-star restaurant Noma in Copenhagen, who recently had an extended stay in Australia.

After launching Noma 2.0 with an all-seafood menu and then a purely vegetarian menu featuring foraged native ingredients early in 2018, Redzepi shifted focus back to meat with a “Game and Forest” concept in October. Among the more meat-heavy items on the menu: teal, moose leg, reindeer tongue and wild duck brain.

Redzepi is still foraging from the forest, but he’s also made clear that the sole option for ethical eating is not just a plant-based diet – he wants to utilise all available and neglected resources in novel ways. Still, he acknowledges being conflicted himself.

The trade-offs in eating out

Although many chefs and diners agree eating “local” is highly desirable, they almost certainly are doing so for different reasons. For chefs, this desire might derive from reducing food miles from the farm to the table and supporting local communities, while diners might be more drawn to local produce because it is fresher and more interesting. Many consumers buying food for their homes may prefer local produce because it is (often) cheaper.

Such “ethical” food categories – including organic, free of genetic modification, free range, humanely produced, fair trade, sustainable and so on — often serve as proxies for deeper values in society. But these values are not necessarily the same for all of us.

Free range eggs, for instance, are often considered more ethical due to animal welfare concerns, but they are also favoured by consumers because they are seen as more nutritious and flavourful, despite limited scientific evidence to support these claims.

Our research has shown, for many people, eating out is a chance to not have to think about ethical issues. Sometimes you just want a dessert with mango or maybe some French wine with your meal.

It’s easy to see why these issues may become less important the instant someone walks through a restaurant’s doors. Restaurant dining presents even more complex issues than daily decisions at the supermarket or at home.

How can you possibly know, for instance, how the food you are eating has been sourced or processed, let alone the labour conditions at the farm or restaurant itself, how waste is managed and controlled, and so on? If diners contemplated these issues every time they wanted to eat out, they might never leave home!

A way forward

One of Australia’s top chefs at the moment, Jock Zonfrillo of Orana restaurant in Adelaide, provides an example of a different type of ethical focus for diners to consider when eating out.

Orana emphasises respect for the land and Australia’s diverse cultures, with a menu focused on native ingredients, such as Indigenous herbs and plants, crocodile, kangaroo, marron and Murray River cod. Zonfrillo’s goal, in part, is to celebrate the nutritional properties of Indigenous ingredients and build a more sustainable commercial market for these foods. In New Zealand, Monique Fiso is pursuing a similar model at Hiakai in Wellington.

Related initiatives such as the National Indigenous Culinary Institute and social enterprise restaurants like Melbourne’s Charcoal Lane, meanwhile, aim to train more Indigenous chefs. This provides another model for restaurants to consider when thinking about key aspects of “ethical” eating – a way to create demonstrable benefits for society and give diners a reason to feel good about themselves.

Jock Zonfrillo is trying to change the way diners think about native ingredients (Photo: Javier Etxezarreta/EPA)

A New Zealand-based publishing company, Blackwell & Ruth, also launched guides to sustainable and ethical restaurants in New Zealand, Australia, the UK, US and elsewhere around the world in November that highlight other ways chefs are making a difference, from the minimisation of food waste to support for sustainable farmers, producers and winemakers.

But, again, the guidebooks have generated much debate about just what qualifies as “ethical” eating. Criticisms have been raised about the inclusion criteria for the restaurants and what the editors really considered exceptional.

What can all restaurants be doing better?

So, what should the bulk of restaurants out there be doing to help educate diners and help them to care more about their choices?

For starters, restaurateurs have clear responsibilities to provide accurate information about what they are serving and the practices associated with their establishments. This should go well beyond the typical descriptions about the food, its provenance and whether it is vegetarian friendly.

Many diners are concerned about the same ethico-political concerns that have arisen in recent labelling debates, such as fair labour conditions, nutrition, environmental degradation, fair trade and animal cruelty, as well as what restaurants give back to their local communities.

The more this information is evidence-based and transparent rather than marketing oriented, the more likely diners will start to pay attention and demand more from the places where they eat.

Being responsive and reflective is essential in this rapidly changing space, as consumers are spoiled for choice and are only likely to become more demanding. Restaurants can help diners to not only shape their eating habits, but also inform them in a way that helps them ask the right questions, rather than seeking set answers from celebrity chefs.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.

Keep going!
Monique Fiso (Photo: Supplied)
Monique Fiso (Photo: Supplied)

KaiJanuary 4, 2019

Summer reissue: Meet Monique Fiso, New Zealand’s most exciting chef

Monique Fiso (Photo: Supplied)
Monique Fiso (Photo: Supplied)

No-nonsense 31-year-old Māori/Samoan woman Monique Fiso is behind one of the most anticipated restaurant openings in years. Get ready, Wellington.

This post was originally published 29 October 2018

Wood-fired kareao and asparagus with salted buffalo curd, pine dust and a pine needle vinaigrette. Kina panna cotta with smoked kahawai, green-lipped mussels, caviar and kawakawa oil. Kaipara oysters with horopito mignonette granita and koromiko flowers. Weka chicharrón.

This is food the likes of which New Zealand has never seen — innovative, sophisticated, thoroughly modern cooking with indigenous ingredients at its heart. And soon, these dishes (or at least versions thereof) will be available to Wellington diners (well, apart from the weka, unless there’s a law change, anyway — read on for more on that).

Chef Monique Fiso (Ngā Rauru, Ngāti Ruanui, Samoa) has spent the past few months researching and developing the menu for Hiakai, her soon-to-open restaurant in the city-fringe suburb of Mt Cook. It’s a progression of the Hiakai hāngī pop-ups she’s been holding, to high acclaim, for the past few years.

“I really wanted the restaurant not to be just a copy of the pop-up,” Fiso says. “This is the next level — taking something that was already pretty well received and just going like there,” she adds, gesturing above her head.

Monique Fiso’s hāngī-based pop-ups earned rave reviews (Photo: Supplied)

Now 31, Fiso began Hiakai (it means hungry in te reo) after returning home in 2016 from seven years in some of New York’s top kitchens, latterly as sous chef to fellow Kiwi Matt Lambert at Michelin-starred The Musket Room.

Fiso grew up in Porirua with a Samoan father and a Māori/Pākehā mother. Her mum wasn’t close to her Māori family, so the kids grew up far more in touch with their Samoan side. After spending much of her 20s overseas, Fiso felt the need to reconnect with her indigenous roots, and couldn’t understand why there wasn’t more of a focus on Māori ingredients and cooking traditions in New Zealand restaurants.

Pop-ups are a dime a dozen these days, but the term doesn’t come close to covering the all-round ‘experience’ Hiakai offered — or the sheer amount of work involved. From weaving flax food baskets to putting up the bell tents that acted as dining rooms in various remote locations to digging the pit, it was all Fiso. And the food was something else — think rēwena bread with tītī fat butter, oyster with karamu berries, kūmara gnocchi with huhu grub sauce, kamokamo cappelletti and hāngī steamed pudding with kānga wai (fermented corn) creme anglaise.

While she won’t be digging pits on the regular any more, “there are still a lot of elements of earth cookery” at the restaurant, Fiso explains. She doesn’t want to give too much away, but says open-fire cookery will feature and “there are a lot of toys in the kitchen”. The newly installed chef counter was christened with the making of horopito and kawakawa chocolates to be served to the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, aka Harry and Meghan, at Government House.

“That was a reason why we couldn’t really have this restaurant right in downtown Wellington — because of the stuff we wanted to do,” she says. “Also I didn’t want it to be in the city. I wanted it to be its own thing, have its own vibe.”

“I feel that the food is much more complex and there’s a lot more finesse” (Photo: Supplied)

Fiso and her team have been in the premises — a historic building on Wallace St, opposite Massey University, complete with two lime kilns that date back to its time as a brick-making business in the 1860s — for several months, getting ready to launch. “I’m not going to rush opening, even though I feel the pressure to,” she said back in August. “Because I know what I want it to be and what I want it to achieve and if it’s not that…” she trails off. “It’s just going to take time.”

She has been working closely with chef Joe McLeod (Tūhoe), researching indigenous plants to be used on the menu and connecting with iwi across the country to ensure a steady supply of these little-known ingredients.

“It’s kind of intimidating sometimes,” she says, “because Joe has been working with them his whole life, and will show up with his foraging bag and start laying out like 20 different plants.

“With everything else that’s going on in your brain, it’s a little overwhelming — like where do we even start?”

While the likes of kawakawa and horopito have been making (small) inroads into mainstream Kiwi cuisine for a few years now, Fiso is taking it up a notch, experimenting with plants like kareao (supplejack), tī kōuka (cabbage tree) shoots and buds, tawa bark and kiekie flowers.

Image: instagram.com/hiakai_nz/

But it’s not just plants she’s been playing with. Fiso has developed a relationship with Roger Beattie, a Canterbury weka enthusiast who has run foul (or fowl, as it were) of DOC for trying to farm the stocky native woodhens, which he argues would save them from extinction. “I knew we wouldn’t get it over the line just with Roger being like ‘we should eat weka’ — we needed examples of weka being used,” Fiso explains.

“So I get this call, like ‘can you come down to Air New Zealand cargo, there’s a package for you’. And it’s all these weka birds. I was like ‘right, so now what do I do…’”

They had come from the Chatham Islands — the only place it’s legal to hunt weka. And what she did was get to work, of course. “It was quite interesting because I thought the bird would be like duck or tītī [muttonbird], but the skin is really thick, and it’s got this massive fat cap on it, so you can take the skin off as if you’re taking it off a pork belly and you’ll be left with a cap of fat, and it’s really tasty.”

Cue Instagram posts of weka with cabernet sauvignon vinegar gel, weka chicharrón (crackling), and, because she couldn’t help herself, KFW (Kentucky fried weka).

“We certainly need to convince a few more people that it’s totally cool, but I can see where they get nervous about it because if they say ‘yeah, it’s sweet’, then people might be like, ‘let’s go shoot one!’

“I had a few people commenting that on my Instagram and I was like ‘no, no, no… I didn’t want to be responsible for that.”

Image: instagram.com/momofiso/

Hiakai the restaurant will open its doors in November — the exact date is yet to be confirmed. Opening Wednesday to Saturday, the 30-seater will offer one sitting of set-menu dining per night, with five- and eight-course options. The wine list has been put together by Master Sommelier Cameron Douglas and intriguing drinks matches are in the works — think horopito white whisky with peated golden ale foam made from Yeastie Boys’ Rex Attitude.

Asked how the food will differ to her pop-ups, Fiso says, “I feel that the food is much more complex and there’s a lot more finesse in what we’re doing now, because we’ve got the time and the space and we’re not shifting things around like with pop-up to pop-up, so we can do things that are much more technical and complicated that we weren’t able to do before. So that’s quite exciting.”

Opening their first restaurant would be enough to keep most young chefs busy, but Fiso is not one to shy away from multitasking. It’s recently been announced that she’s one of 24 chefs from around the world competing in a new Netflix culinary competition show, The Final Table, plus she’s working on a book about Māori food and is featuring in an exhibition at Auckland museum MOTAT called ‘The Innovators’. In the same week the Netflix show and the exhibition were announced, Fiso picked up a “Future Food Legend” gong at the Cuisine Good Food Awards.

No pressure, then. Fiso has been open about suffering from depression and anxiety, but you don’t survive seven years in some of New York’s best kitchens without some serious mental toughness. She calls a spade a spade and doesn’t shy away from calling out perceived injustices — sexism, particularly — in the industry. “A few people have been like, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t do that, it’s not good for your brand,” she says. “And I’m like, ‘Why would it not be good for my brand standing up for women? Isn’t that the whole point? When you have a voice you’re supposed to use it. I’m not going to just sit there.”

It’s safe to say that “just sitting there” is not a concept Fiso is familiar with.