Weekends and holidays were the only times my mother cooked. I didn’t mind much because when she did cook, it wasn’t to my preference. Shhhhhh…. don’t tell her I said that. I grew up on Mona’s food, she was our cook Mondays through Friday, and she indulged me. She’d make me fried bakes (bread) anytime I wanted and that was one my favourites. But this isn’t a story about Mona, it’s about Sunday Lunch, the way I remember it, the way you enjoy it, and the future of a beloved tradition.
Growing up in Trinidad I spent a few Sunday mornings peering through a foggy oven glass trying to catch a glimpse of the macaroni pie. I would be scolded numerous times by my mother, who was convinced I’d burn myself or some catastrophe of the sort would unfold. I might mention, proudly, she never did get the satisfaction of saying “I told you so”, because I managed my childhood fairly alright… apart from her occasional terrible cooking. She did churn out a very nice pie though. Bubbling as it emerged from the oven, her melty, cheesy macaroni pie with the crunchy ends was always the best part of Sunday’s Lunch.
What’s the most popular Sunday Lunch according to Trinidadians?
I asked 35 people from Trinidad what their idea of a typical Sunday Lunch was. 80% said an authentic Trinidadian Sunday lunch consisted of Macaroni Pie, Callaloo, Stewed Chicken and Rice. Some varied the stewed meats with pork, lamb or beef but chicken was the most popular answer. Some suggested other accompaniments to the meal like boiled provisions (cassava, sweet potato, dasheen/taro root), beans, but almost all agreed that fresh salad served alongside was a must have.
Sally was kind enough to participate in my Sunday lunch questionnaire, after which, she invited me to “taste her hand” which is a local saying for “eat her food”. Hospitality is the part of Caribbean culture I admire most. Last Sunday Sally prepared her version of a Trinidadian Sunday Lunch which included macaroni pie, callaloo, stewed chicken, boiled plantains and salad. I repaid Sally for her kindness with a cake, and more questions, particularly about her ingredients. Before I delve into that, let’s talk context so you’ll understand where this is all going.
Food Security Woes
In 2022 Trinidad & Tobago’s total food import bill reached TT$7.3 billion (US $1.1 billion), the highest on record according to the 2024 Budget Statement and then minister of finance. According to a statement by a UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) representative, 85% of the food consumed in Trinidad and Tobago is imported. To make matters worse, the globalization of food and the Americanization of tastes have increased the local appetite for foreign products, fruit and vegetables, further challenging an already depressed local agriculture sector. Throw in a national forex conundrum, food price inflation along with global food shortages, and we’ve got an escalating crisis.
85% of the food consumed in Trinidad and Tobago is imported according to a UN Food and Agriculture Organization spokesperson.
Food security is a primary concern for the Caribbean community with CARICOM heads of government formally pledging to cut the region’s food import bill – 25% by 2025. In February 2025, the threats of trade, global economic disruptions, and the fallout from natural disasters like hurricane Beryl were the reasons given for the 2030 extension of the initiative. In a nutshell, reducing the region’s dependency on food imports is proving to be a very difficult challenge.
So that brings us back to Sally, and her Sunday Lunch. I set out to uncover the ingredients she used, their availability and sustainability.
The Truth Behind the Sunday Lunch Plate
This breakdown of the Trini Sunday lunch is revealing. The table demonstrates ingredients and their total local composition as it pertains to each dish. Notes on my calculation: I categorized green seasoning (herb seasoning), and lime juice together as 1 ingredient – seasoning. I omitted salt from the list, and I calculated macaroni as a half local, half imported ingredient.
| DISH | INGREDIENT | % LOCAL |
|---|---|---|
| Callaloo | dasheen bush, coconut milk, okra, pumpkin, crab, pepper, seasoning | 85% |
| Macaroni Pie | macaroni, cheese, butter, milk, egg, garlic | 25% |
| Stewed Chicken | sugar, oil, chicken, onion, garlic, pepper, seasoning | 42% |
| Rice | rice | 0% |
| Boiled Plantains | plantains | 100% |
| Salad | lettuce, tomato, cucumber, carrot | 75% |
Based on my findings, the Trini Sunday Lunch plate is 54.5% Local.
While callaloo and boiled plantains remain largely local, staples like rice and macaroni pie rely heavily on foreign imports. Stewed chicken, a national favourite, is less than half locally sourced when accounting for sugar, oil, and garlic. As delicious as Sunday lunch is, it reflects our dependence on global supply chains and the urgent need to shift the balance.
How Local is Local, Really?
Here’s where things get a bit complicated. Is macaroni a local product if it’s manufactured in Trinidad, but made with imported raw materials like semolina? What about chicken? The broiler and layer rearing cycles consist of imported components such as feed and nutritional supplements. So, what percentage of locally produced chicken is really local?
What’s our definition of Local? And what’s the difference between locally made vs locally sourced? How do our definitions of things, and the way they work impact our view of food security and sustainability? More importantly, how do these definitions impact the decisions of the policy makers because ultimately, it’s their decisions that have a direct impact on us.
While Sally grows and harvests her plantains, nearly every other component in her Sunday lunch comes from imported sources. This reliance raises questions about how intertwined food security and import dependency have become. It’s a relationship that’s further pressured by forex shortages and logistical hurdles.
So, what I did next was talk directly to a food importer.
What Happens When the Sunday Pot Runs Dry?
Inside the supply chain struggles threatening Trinidad’s most cherished tradition
In my exploration of the sustainability of the Trini Sunday lunch, I interviewed a food importer whose work supplies the very foundation of this national tradition. He imports rice, sugar, garlic, onions, oil, legumes, and the feed that supports our livestock and poultry industries. The conversation was eye-opening, unsettling, and deeply personal. Due to fear of victimization and ill intent from local authorities, the importer asked to remain anonymous. What was shared reflects just how fragile our food supply truly is.
“Last year (2024) was very challenging. The constant struggle for forex, port disruptions like strikes and endless delays in clearing and releasing goods made it terrible. When my goods sit at the port, I incur additional daily charges that must be paid in US dollars. And US is very hard to acquire especially for businesses who operate legitimately.”
The rising costs associated with food imports will make its way onto the Sunday Lunch table he warns, in fact, he says it already has.
“At the end of the day I’m importing basic food items that we consume daily and that we don’t produce ourselves. Trinidadian food importers have gained a very bad reputation with international suppliers because of our inability to pay and our delay in paying invoices. There was one Dutch potato supplier who visited Trinidad late last year, intent on raising the matter with local officials. I don’t know the total amount owed to him, but I believe it is well into millions of US dollars. What an embarrassing moment for us as a country.”
To honour his commitments, the importer has resorted to sourcing funds on the black market.
“I know of many importers, including myself who’ve sourced US dollars on the black market because we have no other choice. I’ve had to pay upwards of $8.2 TTD for $1USD.”
When asked about his predictions for the future of food in Trinidad: “Two things: 1. Prices will rise, expect it, and 2. Suppliers will not prioritize Trinidad for the sale of their goods. If we’re faced with a global shortage, we’ll be last on their list of countries to supply.” Soon, the cost associated with the preparation of a Trini Sunday lunch will rise. How soon? I can’t say. How costly? Time will tell. What’s certain is Trinidad and Tobago’s dependence on food imports and the precarious relationship that exists between demand and supply.
But how do we change our dependency on imported food at a time when local tastes have grown global?
The Disappearing Act of the Traditional Sunday Lunch
The Sunday lunch table tells the story of who we are but lately, it’s been telling a story of loss. Not just of taste or ingredients, but of independence, identity, and resilience.
Trinidad does not produce sugar; it did at one point. The country produces specialty rice on a very small scale, but not enough to feed the population. Some families grew and harvested rice for home consumption in the past. I’ve heard about the once thriving coconut industry, before the plant stock grew diseased and dwindled.
There exists potential to locally produce four Sunday Lunch ingredients: sugar, rice, coconut milk and oil. The potential is not without its challenges, one of which is scale and costs. The agriculture industry does not have the production capabilities of neighbouring countries primarily land and labour. Growing and harvesting rice is exponentially more expensive than Guyana’s costs, making the import of Guyanese rice seem more favourable. Hence from a purely short-term economic perspective, importing rice from Guyana is cost-effective and logical which is why it continues.
Another obstacle is the societal perception of farming – undignified and unviable . Along with that perception, is the loss of something more intangible : the skills, the pride, the knowledge systems once passed down.
Then there’s the slow erosion of tradition itself.
I’ll speak about this one from my own observations and experience. When I was a child, I remember mine was one of the few families who dined out on a Sunday. You remember I told you about my mother’s cooking, right? Everyone, well…almost everyone, was at home on a Sunday, preparing, eating and napping after Sunday Lunch. That was what life was back then, life and the tradition of the Sunday Lunch.
I have seen the shift towards families venturing out of the Sunday homestead, breakfasting, brunching, lunching in restaurants instead of dining and lounging lazily at home. Eating pancakes, waffles, roasts and chops instead of macaroni pie, callaloo and stewed chicken. Diets have grown more dependent on imported food, and these meals may sometime contain zero locally made or sourced ingredients.
If we want to keep our Sunday Lunch tradition alive, we must do more than return to the kitchen, we must change our consumption habits and we have to ask questions. Where does our food come from? Who does it support? What future is it shaping?
Survival of the Trini Sunday lunch isn’t just a matter of nostalgia, it’s a necessary act of resistance rooted in culture, the preservation of which is closely linked to food security and sustainability. It starts with one choice, one meal, one Sunday at a time.
The time to start isn’t someday. It’s this Sunday.
