Update: Communities are the future of food innovation
Let’s build a future where chefs, communities, and supply chains innovate as one
This is my second Update edition, and I am sharing another behind-the-scenes look at my work. My first was about my content strategy. This one is about an idea sparked by something I read. It's about the food we eat as a community and how the food industry supply chain might work differently to help communities innovate. I'm putting it out as an idea I will continue developing in my discourse and writing. It's about food, but I think there is an innovation approach that might work in every industry that serves communities—which is, it seems to me, every industry.
As I've shared in previous editions, I am moving closer to a paid model. I invite you to help support my work by subscribing for less than a coffee a week. And let me know what you are working on—if I can help, I will. Please watch the video for a preview of what follows.
Organizing for innovation
I was very excited to read Bon Appetit's Innovation Issue, especially an article by Ali Bouzari, “Living in the Future of Food.”
Bouzari explores five areas of game-changing food industry innovations:
Precision agriculture
Biotechnology
Hyperpersonalization and consumer health
Transport and retail, and
The evolution of dining.
Each topic is fascinating, and since everyone eats, it is absolutely relevant. Get the issue and read it. Let me know what you think.
Something that jumped out to me was a comment by Editor-in-Chief Jamila Robinson in her From the Editor introduction. While previewing the edition, Robinson writes:
It can take years of patience for everyday audiences to experience the impact of food science, technology, and research, and even longer for [food] companies and distributors to catch up. That's why in this issue we wanted to explore innovation in the culinary industry.
Wanting an insider's view, I contacted a food executive I know—one whose company works on both sides, producing and distributing food products. Talking about the issues, I heard a familiar refrain. I paraphrase:
Food suppliers—indeed, all manufacturers and distributors—are slow to embrace nascent trends because, by definition, they earn little profit from them until the market fully adopts them.
How can it be otherwise? When any innovation is new, it generates a tiny amount of revenue for sellers and suppliers. This is undeniably true. It's a fact of life—or, rather, business.
But it doesn't point to a solution. And that's a problem for innovators—chefs and owners—attempting to offer something different. The new ingredients they need are scarce and expensive if they can be found. It's hard to offer a new product to consumers if consistent and convenient supply isn't guaranteed. And we all lose if the cost of new ingredients pushes the price so far that only price-insensitive diners will pay for it.
We kicked this around for a while, looking for a solution, and I offered that communities—the neighborhoods, towns, and cities where we live—might play a role but don't.
Here's why: Communities are often defined, even strengthened, by their restaurants, especially those tuned in to local preferences. We have to eat and frequently do so away from home. But dining away from home is an opportunity to dine in the presence of others, an act of community. And for restaurants that get it, fostering human connections is an opportunity to act as a keystone species, giving more than they take from their community.
Like every community, Colorado Springs—where I live and work—has distinct needs and aspirations, many of which the food supply chain is well-positioned to meet. Here are several examples:
Growth. We are growing. Fast. We need new restaurants to anchor our new neighborhoods and attract visitors to our differentiated experiences.
Southwest tastes. We love our Pueblo chiles and all the spices, grains, and proteins used by skilled and authentic chefs.
Local agriculture. Being a modern, technology-savvy community means growing more of what a community needs close to home in the community.
International food. We have several military bases staffed with people who have traveled the world and want to bring their food experiences home.
Water. We are a high-altitude desert. Water is scarce. We need to use what we have better, wiser, and with an eye to the future because we aren't getting more.
Craft and artisanal. We love handmade, high-quality, human-made food and drink—bread, coffee, beer, and spirits—just for a start.
Health. We eat too much food that is bad for our health, or just too much food, and we bear the cost in human terms.
Individually and together, addressing these local needs will help my community build resilience, create jobs worth having, foster human connections, promote wellness, and generate wealth.
But there's a problem: communities have no voice in the supply chain.
The food supply chain starts with growers and producers. Food products are harvested, processed, and shipped, eventually reaching restaurants and retailers, where they are sold to chefs and consumers. Every business in the supply chain is a rational actor, developing strategies and partnerships with other companies for mutual benefit—and to earn a profit.
But at no point, or in any way, do supply chain businesses consider the needs of a community. Instead, they think in segments—chefs and consumers categorized by product and service preferences—focusing on how to reach, sell to, and serve them.
But segments are not communities. Communities are different.
The supply chain does not research or analyze communities or monitor or measure them. So, it doesn't matter that communities love restaurants, want them to succeed, or hope they will help improve the community.
To the supply chain, communities are irrelevant.
To become relevant, communities must insert themselves into how business is done in the food supply chain. And to do that, they must understand and embrace something called an organizing framework. As a phrase, organizing framework may sound a bit jargony—but we're talking about business and making an impact in business. That means, at least for a moment, we need to think and speak like businesspeople.
Organizing frameworks are an established business concept. Working with ChatGPT, I offer this explanation:
An organizing framework is a structured tool for planning investments and, in our discussion, for understanding customer-driven innovations—like the food trends featured in Bon Appétit. By highlighting critical factors such as costs, benefits, risks, and opportunities and presenting them coherently, organizing frameworks bring order to complexity and illuminate trade-offs.
Frameworks like SWOT analysis, Porter's Five Forces, and Osterwalder's Business Model Canvas provide structured approaches to decision-making, helping businesses align with emerging customer needs, invest in community-driven innovation, and, for our purposes, rethink how they see the world.
Let's look at one: Osterwalder's Business Model Canvas. It breaks a business into key ingredients—customer segments, value propositions, channels, customer relationships, revenue streams, key resources, key activities, key partnerships, and cost structure.
Notice anything missing?
No communities.
So, armed with an organizing framework, a community might open a dialogue with the supply chain, aiming for a partnership. In business, partnerships are an exchange of value—I will give you this if you give me that—a give and a get. So, a community might say:
As a community, we want you to include us in your business plan. We suggest using Osterwalder's business model canvas. We want you to incorporate the food needs and preferences of our restaurants and people—not as abstract segments but as an honest, human community. We have an identity and a culture. We want to explore mutual benefits: sales and profits for you, and our unique aspirations for wealth and wellness for us.
And we're willing to put some skin in the game. We will help you build your brand in our community. We will share our data. We will offer stories you can use as testimonials. We might even provide financial incentives. We will create metrics to monitor, and commit to a five-year planning horizon.
But we must do this together—as a partnership, as an exchange of value. What do you say? Are you with us?
I know these conversations can happen—because they already do. In every industry, including the food supply chain, businesses partner with one another, step by step, up and down the chain, every day. There are always solutions where mutual value can be created—they just don't happen with communities.
But why not? What's stopping supply chain businesses from engaging with communities the way they do with other partners? Precedent, perhaps—the tyranny of what came before. Or maybe it's just laziness.
I can already imagine the objections:
You're just one community—we can't serve each one differently.
You don't have a single voice to speak for your needs; the government isn't in control.
Let's be honest—you're just not big enough to matter.
These objectives are worth discussing, but the real question is: Who speaks for the community?
If communities are to have a voice in the supply chain, they need a mechanism for representation. One approach might be a task force—commissioned by local government or a leading civic organization—made up of restaurant owners, chefs, social impact organizations, healthcare institutions, adjacent supply chains with complementary products or services, and, most importantly, citizens themselves. This coalition could be the missing link between communities and the supply chain, ensuring that business decisions account for local needs, values, and aspirations.
The challenge isn't whether these conversations can happen—it's whether we're willing to make them happen.
Taking action
Bon Appétit's Jamila Robinson is on to something. It's true that food companies and distributors—like every supply chain—are slow to embrace customer-driven innovations. But what if they led it instead of resisting change—not just by adopting market trends earlier but by actively partnering with communities to help them thrive in the digital age?
If this idea inspires you—or even just makes you curious—here are a few ways you can take action:
Identify your community's unique local needs. Make a list of the challenges the food supply chain could help solve.
Anticipate objections. Imagine the pushback you might hear from the supply chain and—just to be prepared—your community's local government, businesses, or social impact organizations.
Develop a business plan. Consider using the Business Model Canvas—then take it to a supply chain company in your community and refine it together.
Start an annual gathering. Bring more supply chain members into the conversation with your community every year, gaining traction.
Be patient. But keep pushing.
In this second Update edition, I'm sharing an idea. It's a work in progress. I'll keep working on it and invite you to do the same. Then, in a future edition—maybe in a What If format—we'll take it even further, bringing our collective ideas and energy to bear. Together, we can explore how organizing frameworks can solve this problem—not just for the food industry, but for every industry, because every industry, one way or another, serves customers who live in communities.
Signing off for now. If you'd like to talk, feel free to reach out. You can email me directly at mark.dancer@n4bi.com, DM me on Substack, or scroll to the bottom of this newsletter to leave a comment.
Together, let's build thriving communities, one innovation at a time.