Food Trends for 2026: Hype, Hope and a Head of Cabbage

Food trends come and go, but they often reveal more about our anxieties than our appetites. In this piece, I reflect on what’s emerging for 2026 — not to tell you what to eat, but to question why we’re eating the way we are and what might actually nourish us now.

Why We Look to Trends at All

It hardly seems possible, but it has been six years since I last attempted to predict food trends. Six years. A pandemic, supply-chain chaos, sourdough starters for emotional support and more “superfoods” than any human digestive system can handle. Back then, I admitted that my predictions were mostly miss rather than hit — and I stand by that. Predicting food trends is a bit like predicting the weather: you can gesture vaguely at the horizon, but certainty is not your friend.

Still, trends are useful — not because they tell us what to eat, but because they reveal why we are eating the way we are. They are cultural clues, breadcrumbs pointing to our collective anxieties, aspirations and contradictions. And if 2026 has a flavour, it’s one of tension: between convenience and care, novelty and nourishment, global influence and local grounding.

New Doesn’t Always Mean Better

Plant-based eating, once the rebellious upstart, is now firmly embedded in the mainstream — though not necessarily in a way that nourishes us. The next wave, particularly among Gen Z and Millennials, appears to be less about ethics or health and more about innovation and novelty. Proteins extracted from seaweeds, mushrooms and legumes are being rebranded and repackaged in ever more inventive ways. New doesn’t always mean better, of course, but it does photograph well. Social media continues to shape food culture at an extraordinary pace, with TikTok trends and Instagram aesthetics driving interest as much as flavour or function.

When “New” Is Really Old Wisdom

Global flavours are also having another moment, with Korean gochujang, Japanese yuzu, Filipino adobo and ingredients like Peruvian ají amarillo and Mexican nixtamalized corn popping up in trend reports. I’ll admit, I had to look both of these up — and was quietly delighted by what I found. Ají amarillo, a warm, fruity yellow chilli, has been a cornerstone of Peruvian cooking for centuries, while nixtamalization — the traditional practice of soaking corn in lime water — is an ancient technique that makes corn both more digestible and nourishing. Hardly cutting-edge, but reassuring proof that many “new” food trends are simply old wisdom resurfacing.

Behind the scenes, the health food industry is still leaning heavily on the language of “functional foods”. It sounds impressive but rarely invites much curiosity about what it actually means. Ashwagandha in your coffee. Reishi in your snack bar. Tulsi in your chocolate. These ingredients are borrowed from deep traditional knowledge systems but often stripped of context and sold as stress solutions for lives that remain fundamentally overstimulated and under-rested. It’s worth asking whether the problem is really a lack of adaptogens — or a lack of boundaries, rest and regular meals.

Fermented foods continue to hold their place in the spotlight, driven by ongoing interest in gut health. Kimchi, kefir, sauerkraut and kombucha are all still popular, though increasingly industrialised. As ever, the more shelf-stable and uniform a fermented food becomes, the less alive it tends to be. The trend itself is not the issue; how it is executed is where things get murky.

A Quiet Return to the Basics

One of the more interesting shifts this year is the growing focus on fibre. Protein, having enjoyed a long and glorious reign, is starting to look a little tired. Fibre, on the other hand, is having a quiet glow-up, largely due to conversations around gut health, blood sugar regulation and the rise of GLP-1 medications. Fibre slows digestion, feeds beneficial gut bacteria and supports appetite regulation — none of which is new information, but all of which suddenly feels urgent. The danger, of course, is that fibre becomes something we isolate and fortify, rather than something we eat naturally through a variety of vegetables, fruits, pulses and whole grains.

In an unexpected twist, red meat is also re-entering the trend scene — not as a daily staple, but as a carefully considered food. Highly processed plant-based meat alternatives have plateaued, and many people are questioning whether swapping one ultra-processed product for another was ever the win it was marketed as. At the same time, there is growing interest in regenerative farming and in eating less, but better-quality meat, produced in systems that respect soil, animals and ecosystems. Considering concerns around trade deals such as Mercosur and the importation of meat produced under far less stringent conditions, this shift feels less like nostalgia and more like a thoughtful investment in our health, our farmers and the landscapes that feed us.

Another trend quietly gaining momentum is interest in upcycled ingredients — foods made from by-products that would otherwise go to waste. This can mean spent grain from the craft brewing or distilling industry being repurposed into crackers or baking mixes, or whey from dairy production and fruit pulp from juicing finding new life in snack foods. In theory, this supports a circular economy and reduces waste. In practice, it still raises familiar questions: who benefits, who profits and at what point does a well-intentioned idea drift into yet another highly processed “health” product?

What Actually Feeds Us

Closer to home, one of the most surprising rising stars of 2026 is cabbage. Yes, cabbage. Long maligned, over-boiled and under-loved, it is now enjoying a cultural redemption. Cheap, resilient, endlessly versatile and deeply nourishing, cabbage may finally be having its moment — proof that trends don’t always need a marketing department.

Less heartening is the rise of solo dining and single-portion convenience meals. Designed to reduce waste and suit busy lives, they also reflect a growing loneliness around food. Eating has always been a social act — a way of connecting, sharing and grounding ourselves. While there’s nothing wrong with eating alone, the normalisation of solitary eating feels like something worth pausing over.

And so, as ever, trends pull us in opposing directions. They promise innovation while quietly circling back to old truths. They offer shortcuts where patience is required and novelty where familiarity might serve us better. The real counter-trend — the one that never quite goes out of style — is food that is close to home, grown with care, cooked simply and eaten with awareness. It may never dominate your feed, but it’s the bit that feeds you.