If Alan Titchmarsh says it, then surely it must be true: avocados are the devil’s own fruit. Well, that’s not quite how he put it, but his recent letter to The Times carried a stark warning—don’t eat them!
The much-loved gardener pointed out that most avocados sold in the UK are grown in areas where rainforests have been destroyed at an alarming rate to make way for avocado farms. Worse still, these thirsty fruits require massive amounts of water, often in regions where it is already scarce, before being shipped thousands of miles to be enjoyed by self-proclaimed “environmentally conscious” consumers.
And the numbers are staggering. According to the Sustainable Food Trust, the journey from Mexico, the world’s leading avocado exporter, to the UK spans an eye-watering 5,555 miles. Meanwhile, each avocado takes 320 litres of water to produce—a far cry from the mere 15 litres required for an apple.
A smug superfood?
Titchmarsh has touched a nerve, because his comments expose the uncomfortable truth about who is eating avocados. The humble fruit has become a symbol of trendy, upper-middle-class consumption, often associated with those who dine in hipster cafés, paying north of £7 for a slice of Seeded Sourdough with Salsa Verde and Avocado while radiating an air of smugness.
Avocados are, in short, celebrity food. Meghan Markle and Gwyneth Paltrow have both endorsed them, which in itself is enough to put people off. But beyond that, the fruit’s environmental impact clashes awkwardly with the holier-than-thou attitude often displayed by those who champion plant-based diets.
A thorn in the side of vegans
Perhaps that’s why so many have gleefully latched onto Titchmarsh’s words—it’s an opportunity to annoy vegans. There’s something irresistible about catching out those who preach the virtues of their lifestyle, only to reveal their own hypocrisies.
This isn’t the first time Titchmarsh has waded into a culture war. A few years back, he took aim at those who “rewild” their gardens, letting them run wild rather than actually maintaining them. Given that he is a friend of the King, owns a meadow of his own, and is a firm believer in gardening as an art, he can hardly be dismissed as an anti-environmentalist. In fact, he represents the sensible middle ground—something increasingly rare in today’s polarised debates.
But while Titchmarsh’s critique of avocados may be rooted in genuine environmental concern, it also taps into a wider frustration: the double standards of modern environmentalism.
The bigger picture: A flawed food system
It’s not just avocados that raise ethical concerns. Soya, a staple of many vegan diets, is linked to deforestation in the Amazon, while almonds, the key ingredient in almond milk, require vast amounts of water, often at the expense of natural ecosystems.
This should have put to rest the simplistic notion that all plant-based food is inherently good, while anything involving animals is bad. Instead, we need to acknowledge that the way food is produced matters just as much as what we eat.
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Yet, rather than conducting a meaningful audit of what we consume, much of the eco-activist movement seems fixated on easy targets. Just Stop Oil protesters throw soup at priceless paintings, but where is the outrage over AI data centres, which consume vast amounts of energy and water? Why isn’t there a ‘Stop Cryptocurrency’ movement, given that Bitcoin mining is an environmental disaster?
There’s an undeniable irony in how tech-savvy activists rail against climate destruction while continuing to upgrade to the latest iPhone, despite the environmental cost of rare earth mining.
What should vegans eat instead?
So if avocados are now off the menu, what’s left for the virtuous plant-based crowd? Titchmarsh, ever the traditionalist, advocates for simpler fare—cornflakes, Weetabix, porridge. Perhaps muesli with rhubarb could serve as a substitute for avocado toast?
Or maybe, just maybe, this latest debate will prompt a more nuanced conversation—one that recognises that ethical eating isn’t just about choosing plants over animals, but about considering the entire chain of production.
Until then, though, expect plenty more schadenfreude as the great British public revels in the delicious irony of annoying the avocado-loving elite.
