Food Bytes: June 2026 Edition

Here we are. Smack dab in the middle of Europe’s second heat wave here in Bologna. My years of living in Tucson with a swamp cooler and in NY without any AC have trained my body well, but as the years go on, tolerating the heat gets a wee bit harder. According to Rothko, we are Orange, Red, Orange, 1961. I’ll take that and fester in it for a while. But in all seriousness, the world keeps signaling to us that something is off. This “Omega heat dome,” where Europe remains ill-prepared, is the latest example. The Po is drying up, which is bad for agriculture. A high-pressure system has trapped hot air over South Asia, creating a prolonged heatwave. Wildfires are poppin in America’s west and Europe’s east. Already, the heat is putting pressure on food supplies (good article on Bloomberg) along with Trump’s unnecessary war with Iran.

And now, we see the World Meteorological Organization has confirmed the rapid development of a new El Niño cycle in the Pacific Ocean. Meteorologists note it is already beginning to shift global moisture and temperature baselines, setting the stage for a highly volatile summer. The Grist has a timely article on the potential impacts the world is likely to see. Data suggest that in South Asia, and India in particular, El Niño weakens the seasonal monsoons, and because India is the world's largest rice exporter, a failed or weak monsoon could severely diminish rice yields and trigger global export restrictions or bans. In Southern Africa, the pattern typically brings hotter, much drier conditions, threatening staple crops like maize and risking a spike in regional malnutrition. While parts of South America (like Peru) face heavy rain and flooding that can wipe out infrastructure, the southern United States is projected to face a much wetter-than-normal year, risking crop-destroying floods from California to the East Coast.

As I always ask my students when discussing extreme events, is the world ready?

With all this heat, it does get hard to sit in front of one’s computer, plunk down on the couch, and read, but on the other hand, it is hard to do much else. So herein lies what I have been reading for the last month. Got through about 4 books so far (see picture on the left). My goal is to read 10 books over the summer months. I have provided reviews of these here, here, and here. All are good reads, with only one related to food. I haven’t had a chance to review Rebecca Solnit’s A Field Guide to Getting Lost, but she certainly captures me not only in her writing but also in how she positions herself in the world. Some say she is the modern Joan Didion. I say she is solely Rebecca Solnit.

Bored? Try this FoodGuesser which gives you a dish or food and you have to guess where it is from. Today’s was surf ‘n turf. Uhhhh…..who else would be so decadent to both steak and lobster on one plate…

Beyond books, I found some of these reports and papers worth some time digging into:

First up, the Global Nutrition Report. It was nice to see a full report again after several years of getting lost in goal tracking that didn’t seem to track all that much…The findings of the 2026 Global Nutrition Report land at a critical juncture, providing a necessary, evidence-based framework for navigating the intersection of climate change and malnutrition. It tells us plainly that our celebrated 'win-win' development narratives are often illusions on the ground. As we shift towards integrated, climate-resilient approaches, the report rightly emphasizes that our policy choices can no longer be treated as separate, single-sector decisions. The 2026 Global Nutrition Report lands not as a comfortable endorsement of ongoing efforts, but as an intellectual disruption to our collective “siloed complacency” and the seductive trap of "win-win" developmental narratives. For too long, the multilateral system has acknowledged the intersections of climate, health, and nutrition only implicitly—treating them as adjacent portfolios rather than as a single, co-dependent polycrisis.

The Global Justice Report (lots of “globals” here)…is a really important report led by the World Inequality Lab. The report outlines a roadmap spanning from 2026 to 2100 that aims to reconcile global economic prosperity with planetary boundaries. The report argues that climate survival and deep decarbonization are impossible without a drastic reduction in wealth inequality. It proposes radical systemic changes—such as a massive "Global Justice Fund" financed by heavy taxes on billionaires, a transition to a two-and-a-half-day work week (YES!!!!), and reduced material and red meat consumption—with the goal of capping global warming at 1.8°C while doubling the incomes of 89% of the world's population. Thomas Piketty, the world-renowned French economist and author of Capital in the Twenty-First Century, brings his trademark expertise in wealth and income inequality to the project. It is dreamy and bold, and worth a read of a utopian world that seems very far off at the moment…

On reports, and this one doesn’t have “global” in the title, is the At the Crossroads: Food in an Age of Uncertainty by Systemiq. This is an interesting report that conducts a foresight analysis (see figure below) of how escalating geopolitical fractures, climate volatility, and artificial intelligence are converging to disrupt the global food system. The report is highly effective at diagnosing system vulnerabilities—notably exposing concentrated supply risks, such as the fact that just four crops occupy 50% of global cropland and that a staggering 30% of global fertilizer trade passes through a single chokepoint, the Strait of Hormuz (a very timely notion indeed). Critically, however, the report functions more as an academic exercise in "futures thinking" than a concrete action plan. While it sharply rejects simple "system efficiency" in favor of holistic structural resilience and issues urgent warnings about ultra-processed food addiction, its conclusions call for "honest dialogue" and "step-changes in global coordination" rather than outlining enforceable regulatory mechanisms or specific corporate mandates. Ultimately, it serves as an excellent diagnostic tool for identifying systemic risk, but it soft-pedals the aggressive, legally binding political battles of food policy and systems.

Stylized scenarios and trends, Systemiq

Some other good peer review articles that I came across:

  • The long and winding road of stunting reduction since the 19th century (P.S. that is not the name of the article…). Some good lessons for LMICs still dealing with stubbornly high stunting prevalence, particularly from Japan.

  • Was the Lancet series on ultra-processed foods not sufficient? Well, AJPH has you covered with a whopper of a special issue on UPFs and public health. If you don’t have time to read the 18 articles, you can read Lindsay Smith Tallie and Ashley Gearheardt’s summary on their new Substack, Unjunked, to get the highlights, or this NYT article. If you want to see what to do about it, get involved with Fedup! movement.

  • The WHO has published its estimates on the hazards of foodborne illnesses. The results are scary, and I don’t think the global food system community talks enough about food safety. They show that as of 2021, foodborne transmission of the 42 hazards they studied caused 866 million illnesses and 1.52 million deaths. Of those hazards, inorganic arsenic, lead, and non-typhoidal Salmonella enterica caused the most damage, particularly among young children and in Africa and South-East Asia.

  • A review of countries worldwide shows that 64 have implemented sugar-sweetened beverage taxes, covering 3·. billion people, with Asia leading the way.

  • Love this paper, which links the lack of clean drinking water to food insecurity (and vice versa) and to food safety issues. Good read!

  • A timely paper understanding the impacts of trade on the water-energy-food (WEF) nexus. In the paper, they construct WEF networks to quantify trade-driven changes. High-income countries achieve stronger WEF synergies that promote gains across all three aspects, whereas low-income countries face many trade-offs, with food-centered competition over water and energy driving them. This is why I always argue for the “energy bros” out there to consider food…

  • While not food-related, an important read on how “commitments to stronger international cooperation are being strained by rising authoritarianism, weakening multilateralism, aid cuts, and growing misinformation” when it comes to infectious disease spread (with the recent cases of Hantavirus and Ebola). These same issues will hinder efforts to address food insecurity and malnutrition. 

  • The Johns Hopkins Center for Humanitarian Health–Lancet Commission on health, conflict, and forced displacement: health in a world of crises and impunity outlines a comprehensive strategy to reform the global humanitarian system amid escalating modern crises (see Figure below) by demanding an end to legal impunity, a total inversion of power toward localized decision-making, and a complete restructuring of how emergency health funding is distributed to affected populations. Boom.

Timeline of humanitarian health crises, reforms and milestones, 1863–2025 (Spiegel et al 2026)

Some other tidbits and interesting reads across media:

  • Who knew ranch dressing would be popular?

  • I was just visiting London and Brighton, and yes, I had fish and chips goddammit. But is England ready to move away from cod? Bloody hell!

  • A wonderfully philosophical long read in the Guardian about whether ecosystems can malfunction, in which the author argues that ecosystems only "malfunction" when humans co-opt them for specific goals.

  • Innovation on how to run a restaurant (don’t charge for food) in Minneapolis (we got your back, friends!).

  • The Economist argues that feeding the world will require new technology. Um, Duh! But is AI the game-changer? I remain skeptical.

  • What have we learned about GLP meds? It’s the wild, wild west, ya’ll! But clearly, this may prove to be a game-changer in tackling obesity.

Well, my hands are starting to sweat, making it hard to type. I will leave you an album that came to mind recently and that I had not listened to in a good long time: the self-titled Violent Femmes album that came out in ‘83 in my junior high days. The Violent Femmes are an American folk-punk band from Wisconsin. Such an original sound at the time. We were kind of obsessed with this album for a hot minute, and somehow, it fits with summer, the heat, frustration, etc. A funny side story: the group was busking in Milwaukee on a street corner, and the guitar player for the Pretenders happened to be walking by, heard them, and invited them to open for their show that night. Hot damn!

The Journey of Hued Grief

2025 has finally come to a close, and what a year it has been. For many, the last 365 days (well, + the beginnings of 2026…) have felt like an endless hellscape of despair, marked by one shocking and unfathomable doomsday-like event after another. At the heart of this turmoil has been, of course, the current U.S. president, whose actions seem designed to sow chaos, disrupt democracy, and seek no-holds-barred retribution and dominance for his own personal gain. The cuffs and guardrails are nowhere to be found. However, I recognize that not everyone experienced this past year in the same way. Some found themselves thriving in the midst of the cultural upheaval, relishing the debates and discussions that accompanied each new development.

Over the past year, I've held back from discussing the unfolding chaos, but now that I’m leaving the U.S., I feel ready to step back and look at the broader picture. So much has already been said about how we arrived at this moment—the current state of U.S. politics and its “leaders.” The saga continues, marked by the dismantling of long-standing institutions designed to maintain checks and balances. Every day, we witness blatant violations of civil and human rights. The erosion of public health threatens not only our nation but global stability as well, compounded by geopolitical bullying and the silencing of dissenting voices. The cycle of doom seems endless. I suspect the repercussions of this turmoil will extend far beyond the U.S., affecting those who have relied on America as a dependable partner and participant in world order and sustainable development.

Egon Schiele

What’s particularly frightening is how quickly we/they have normalized this chaos. In the initial days, shock and anger were the dominant responses; now, it feels like a constant barrage, leaving many desperate for relief. Some people say, "Let’s wait and see what 2028 brings," while others choose to focus solely on themselves. A few optimistically assert that "progress always finds a way." Personally, I’m skeptical about these coping strategies, partly because we’ve never encountered such unprecedented turmoil before—certainly, the injustices of the Nixon era seem just downright mild by comparison. The outlook for positive change appears, frankly, grim.

For those of us in science and academia, the turmoil has shaken our foundations. What we once considered an untouchable sector has been profoundly affected. The reaction from esteemed institutions, including Columbia University—where I worked up until a few days ago—has been particularly disheartening. When push came to shove, Columbia capitulated to governmental pressure, effectively paying a ransom and making concessions. It was astonishing to witness a private university fold so easily, and honestly, it felt shameful.

Leaving the U.S. and Columbia became less daunting as 2025 marched on. As Aldo Leopold wisely noted in A Sand County Almanac, “One must make a shift with things as they are.” My move to Italy and resignation from Columbia represent my shift. Some might label me a flighter rather than a fighter, and they may be right. Nevertheless, the decision to leave the U.S. was straightforward; the logistics and emotional hurdles were far more challenging. Who walks away from a tenured professorship at an Ivy League university? Ego complicates the choice, but sometimes you have to say, “What the fuck,” as Miles said in Risky Business (the 80s is my jam long before the Duffer Bros).

Despite the changes, I still hold my tenured position as a full professor, now based at Johns Hopkins in Bologna, Italy. I feel incredibly fortunate—an awareness I don’t take lightly. Will I continue to be impacted by the events in the U.S.? Absolutely; no one is immune. Am I concerned that the rise of populism and conservatism is spreading across Europe, South America, and beyond? You bet I am.

We revisited Casablanca the other night—a fitting watch for our move. Most of you know the setup: Humphrey Bogart is a cynical bar owner who has to choose between an old flame and the greater good. It’s a movie about people "waiting" for papers in Casablanca as an outpost to flee war-torn Europe for the American dream. There’s a certain irony in watching it now; as the world comes full circle, we find ourselves being the ones packing our bags for the other side.

Reflecting on the past year, I find it surreal and inexplicably bizarre—much like our collective experiences during the COVID-19 pandemic. It has been challenging to fully grasp the events unfolding around us and their long-lasting implications. To cope and come to grips with the pandemic, my partner and I (also known as the Sound Furies) wrote a song called "Hued Grief" (an ode to Egon Schiele, who died of Spanish influenza). Like with the COVID pandemic and its aftermath, I am grieving. Grieving for the America that we all let slip away a long time ago — 50 years or more in the making. Hued grief represents the complex spectrum of emotions encountered during the grieving process, from dark despair to colorful and light transformative healing when we finally emerge from that darkness. The question is, when will we emerge? Maybe 2026 is the year. Maybe.

As I look ahead to 2026, my primary goal isn’t just to focus inward but to sustain hope. We need to aim higher, together. We need big, bold systemic changes, new leaders, and regulation for those who continue not have the best interests of people, the planet, flora, and fauna in mind. While these may be lofty, wishlist dreams, one can hope. In Rebecca Solnit’s book, Hope in the Dark, she explores the complex nature of hope and the often unseen ways that change occurs. She discusses how victories can be overlooked while failures are usually more prominent in our consciousness. Moreover, she suggests that hope is not simply an optimistic belief that everything will turn out well, but rather an active engagement with the possibilities of change and a recognition of our agency in shaping the future. She emphasizes the importance of our collective history and memories in navigating toward that future.

She notes (and I apologize if I’m not getting it exactly right—my copy of her book is currently in a moving box!): “Hope is not the belief that everything was, is, and will be fine. It is about the possibilities, and the basis for action. It is about navigating toward the future.”

Can’t say it any better than that. The journey continues…

Ran my fingers across the world

On the eve of a new year, we are meant to reflect on all that we accomplished (and didn’t) and put forward our hopes and goals for the new year. I find this hard to do as I get older because time seems so warped, and change is hard to measure. When I reflect back to 2023 to see what has changed for me, I am left with blurry memories and vague recollections, much like the three years of living during the pandemic. But there were some bright spots and standout moments.

Our last New Year’s Eve was spent crisscrossing most of Italy, ending in the heel, also known as Puglia (where my family is from), with the idea that we wouldn’t return for a long while. Not that we don’t love Italy, but we spent almost six years living there, and maybe it is time to see other places if we do decide to travel. I had just learned I was granted tenure at Columbia University and would join the new Climate School faculty in July of 2023. Exciting. Now comes the hard part – we had to sell our house and downsize our belongings to snuggly fit into a smaller Columbia-subsidized apartment in NYC. Offloading a house in the middle of a housing crisis with high interest rates is stressful and borderline nightmarish, but we managed to do it. Plus, moving just sucks. No matter how often you do it (and for us, we are at 25 times), it is just a massive hassle. So, the first half of 2023 was one significant stressball transition phase.

Things fell into place once we got to NY in June. We live in the Upper West Side, where I have worked for a long time and where we have lived before, so it all seems routine and familiar. Are we too comfortable and normalized? God forbid that we get too comfortable. It may be time to move to another borough and start another walkabout MaPhattan project. Brooklyn beckons, but the ever-evolving NYC landscape is unpredictable, and it is hard to know where to move that won’t become overly gentrified or where you are not participating in such a predictable path.

On the work front, I published, in collaboration with many stellar scientists, 18 papers, the final one being the Food Systems Countdown Initiative paper and report. I started a new job as a Professor of Climate and Food at Columbia’s Climate School and as the Interim Director of the International Research Institute of Climate and Society. It has been an interesting adjustment since leaving Hopkins, with a lot of my team going on to spread their wings in other institutions. The Food Systems Dashboard is going strong along with other various projects.

On a personal note, we, the Sound Furies, finished our fifth album, Times Edit. My favorite song is Mandelbrot’s Coastline. I traveled a hell of a lot less and will continue on that path in 2024. What I will do in 2024 is spend some time curating and sharing all the photos I have taken on my 60+ country travels. 2023 was filled with ordinary experiences — I got COVID, which sucked. I walked an average of 5.8 miles per day, up from last year, which was 5.2 miles. I tried out the Peleton (there is one in my building) and found it ridiculous but effective. I ate red meat maybe five times and tried my best only to take public transport (maybe got in a taxi/uber 4-5 times) if walking wasn’t an option. I continue to bake sourdough…I decided I like folk music (maybe it’s my age) and succulents (maybe it’s my age). We celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary. I turned 52. We ate in 55 restaurants since arriving in NYC (hey, don’t give me shit, I’m in the food business).

Looking to 2024, the new year brings the opportunity to turn over a new leaf, improve, and make a change. But change is ruthlessly tough, and we are often hard on ourselves when we don’t make those changes “successfully.” And I must admit, I am worried about the changes to come. The poem, What they did yesterday afternoon, by Warsan Shire has been running through my head:

“later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.”

Almost half of the world will be voting for new leaders in 2024, and democracy looks pretty fragile to me. I worry about the U.S. elections, as I am sure almost every American does, and the results will impact future decisions about our lives and goals. I am also profoundly concerned about the lack of action on mitigating climate change, what that will mean for everyone, particularly the poorest and most vulnerable, how much they will need to adapt, and with what resources.

But as the late Sam Cooke beautifully sang, a change is gonna come – the question is, are we ready for whatever comes? Because things don’t always change for the better, but they do change. Rebecca Solnit, author of Hope in the Dark, wrote, "Incremental change can happen quietly, and change is rarely straightforward. Victories slip by unheralded while failures are more readily detected.” I will remain hopeful in 2024 as I run my fingers across the world. I am going to remain hopeful. Not because I think everything is going to be okay. But hope for the possibility that the change that is coming pushes us forward to a more sustainable future.  

Lending order to the world

Robert Rundstrum said that creating maps is fundamental to lending order to the world. I geek out over maps, dashboards, and overall visuals of how data can be creatively displayed. So much so that I co-lead the Food Systems Dashboard with our friends at GAIN, which gives a complete view of food systems by bringing together data from multiple sources. The Dashboard allows one to compare food system drivers and components across countries and regions, gain insights into challenges, and identify actions to improve nutrition, health, and environmental outcomes.

Dashboards are maps, and often, they are displayed as maps. Maybe my obsession with maps comes from how much time I spend walking with my better half, stepping across geography step by step. As Rebecca Solnit said,

“A labyrinth is a symbolic journey . . . but it is a map we can really walk on, blurring the difference between map and world.”

I use “maps” loosely as most data displayed, whether a bar graph, histogram, or geographical map, is a record of a diagrammatic representation of how we exist or how we perceive our existence through time. Mere representations of an ever-changing reality of where we have been and where we are going.

Some argue that we are in a heightened state of data map overload, with an insane amount of dashboards displaying all kinds of data. Are we suffering from “death by dashboard?” But I, and I think many others, appreciate dashboards. Just look at the success of Our World in Data, or how everyone, every day, all the time, tuned into the Johns Hopkins COVID Dashboard as the pandemic grew (they stopped collecting data this past March. They knew when “to fold ‘em.”

There are some new food-related maps and dashboards that are pretty cool. Check out The Food Twin tool. This tool visualizes a model designed to predict where food is grown and connecting that food to where it is consumed in the U.S. The data moves, showing the vast network of how food is produced and consumed. Speaking of networks, the Global Food Systems Network map visually represents the relationships among stakeholders involved in food systems-related efforts worldwide. Some other cool maps are out there, including the World Food Map, which displays the most commonly consumed foods in each country.

Let’s thank our farmers for the incredible diversity of foods available around the world. But they are dealing with significant risk. The Agriculture Adaptation Atlas maps climate risks and identifies solutions for farmers. Lastly, the new Clim-Eat dashboard shows a range of food system technologies that show great promise in improving food security while mitigating or adapting to climate change.

From the Agriculture Adapation Atlas: Showing heat stress of livestock in sub-Saharan Africa

Beyond food, so many exciting projects are trying to display data to ensure it is accessible to everyone. Vivid Maps displays all kinds of data. For example, here is a map of what the boogeyman looks like worldwide. What the hell is the Jersey Devil? Seems apropos. Or, how cats migrated to Europe…Some useful information, some…not so much.

But this map, Native Digital Land, is fantastic. It is a searchable map of Native territories, languages, and treaties. You can click on the map across the Americas and other areas to see which Indigenous tribes lived there and their histories. Just looking at the United States is incredible and devastating. This is a collaborative endeavor and will consistently change as more Indigenous peoples interact and provide historical information to the map.

Native Digital Land, showing the Native American territories of the United States

And if you really want to geek out, Oculi Mundi has put out a collection of antique maps that are stunning. Just check out this “Anatomy of the Ceasars map.” They just don’t make ‘em like this anymore. The site is just so beautifully done, and all open access—such a beautiful thing.

From Oculi Mundi