As I stepped out of my New York apartment, the snow compacting onto the sidewalk in the soft dusk light created a rhythmic charm to my stroll towards Citarella’s on Third Avenue. It was 1999, just weeks before Christmas. In December in the northern hemisphere, one typically encounters vibrant citrus fruits, bitter greens, and pumpkins. Yet, I was taken aback when I heard a woman exclaim, “Where can I find peaches?” I turned to see her standing outside the greengrocer’s, looking perturbed. The ridiculousness of her request struck me—isn’t it strange to yearn for peaches in the dead of winter? It felt akin to lounging by a pool on a scorching summer day while reaching for a heavy wool sweater.
I was already aware of the challenges plaguing our food systems: industrial farming ravaging our soils—the very essence of our planet—non-transparent supply chains rendering consumers powerless to make informed choices, and the overwhelming presence of ultra-processed foods lacking any nutritional benefits in supermarkets, schools, and hospitals, just to name a few. Nevertheless, this fleeting moment highlighted our alarming disconnection from nature and its cycles. We had come to accept the notion that food should be available at any time throughout the year. I couldn’t shake this realization; little did I know that this seemingly trivial encounter in New York would forever alter the course of my life.
After completing my university studies, I was drawn to the vibrant energy and towering skyscrapers of New York City. I found myself managing investment portfolios for affluent Latin American clients from the 45th floor of a Merrill Lynch office. The views were stunning, and the pulse of the stock market added an exciting dimension to my life, yet the greed underlying my work troubled me deeply.
My refuge was cooking, the one constant in my life. Whether it was coming home from school in Buenos Aires, hosting friends at university, or wandering the streets of NYC in search of unique ingredients, cooking was my passion—something I could never tire of. In retrospect, I should have realized much sooner that food was meant to be the focal point of my existence, where my life and career could seamlessly intertwine. My dissatisfaction with my job was a recurring theme, and though it fluctuated, it had worsened each passing year.
As I approached my thirties, I reached a critical juncture and recognized that if I didn’t make a change immediately, I would soon find myself at 40, regretting my inaction. A sense of urgency enveloped me, and food became my guiding light. I began to see a world of possibilities emerging—ideas sparked by a passing van, a supermarket brand, or a startup food delivery service—prompting an unwavering commitment to work in the food industry.
This revelation launched me from the heights of a New York skyscraper to the early morning streets of London, specifically to New Covent Garden Market, surrounded by the towers of fruits and vegetables that nourish the city. I made this significant shift in 2003, delving into the intricate workings of the supply chain by working for Solstice, a fruit and vegetable supplier catering to upscale restaurants. At that time, London’s eateries focused more on the provenance of recipes than seasonal ingredients, and I was passionate about changing this dynamic.
Through my experiences visiting markets and farmers across Europe, I witnessed firsthand the importance of seasonality in reclaiming and fixing our food system. I observed the rapid decline of flavor on our plates, particularly in sprawling urban centers where access to high-quality produce was scarce. I made it my mission to reintroduce exceptional flavor into people’s lives and to foster a reconnection between consumers and the natural world. In 2004, I took the reins of a company called Natoora, which had started in France and was just beginning to establish itself in London, and set out to realize this vision.
Over the past two decades, my commitment to flavor has been driven in part by my own pursuit of pleasure, yet it has also given my work a profound sense of purpose. Flavor serves as a bridge to change, connecting us emotionally to food and evoking powerful memories that linger long after. It has the potential to restore joy in our relationship with food.
I can’t claim that I fully understood the extent to which changing my career would impact my life at the time. What began with passion and longing opened up a new reality for me—a realm imbued with higher purpose and a love for my work that I hope inspires others to pursue similar paths. It’s a call to advocate for a better world, placing joy at the core of our culinary experiences.
Franco Fubini is the founder and CEO of Natoora, and the author of *In Search of the Perfect Peach*.
