Tell us a bit about you?
I’m a first generation Australian Scot, which means I have a genetic predisposition towards thrift cooking, oatcakes, and knowing my way around a potato. I figure that because my people gifted the world with the deep fried chocolate bar, I have no grounds on which to judge people for their food choices.
My story is one of many young Australians. I grew up in the inner burbs of Sydney, where food came from the supermarket, and my proudest early food moment revolved around knowing the exact number of seconds you needed to microwave a party pie so it didn’t burn your tongue.
Studying Social Science at uni opened my eyes to the sheer levels of injustice in our world, and it was through volunteering with YFM as a young graduate that I began to understand the scale of the challenges our food system faces. Talking to everyone from farmers and scientists, to academics, chefs and nutritionists, transformed food in my mind from being simply a delicious substance, into being an utterly vital platform for social and environmental change.
Like most young people, I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to do when I grow up.
It’s difficult to put into words, this thing that happens when you put a bunch of young people into a room, and ask them to talk about food. YFM has been a safe space for countless young people to find out what it is they offer the world, and to be part of a community dedicated to creating a food system that serves everyone, not just a few. It makes me immensely proud to be a part of something which gives voice to what so many young people are thinking and feeling.
I’m eternally humbled to be able to champion the work of hundreds of young people across Australia who have made YFM what it is today.
Favourite food memory
No meal has ever tasted as delicious as one cooked over a tiny camping stove, beside your tent, in the fading light, after a day of walking in the middle of the wilderness. That’s pretty much my definition of magic.
Last meal you would eat before you die?
The strategist in me wants to say ‘hard carbs’, because I feel like if anyone is going to survive an apocalypse, it’s someone loaded up with carbs.
The romantic in me wants to say a random banquet of pan fried dumplings, special braised eggplant, thai green curry, potato rosti, salt and pepper tofu, and panna cotta.
But I’m going to say a tray of mangoes. With cream. Because, mangoes. And cream.