There's nothing new, of course, about a desire to get some year-round variety into our daily fare. Who today would envy the diet of sludgy pea soup, tough bread and the (very) occasional taste of bacon that just about sustained our forebears through the barren winter? Over the centuries, we have developed many techniques to deal with the seasons. We have created hardy plant cultivars, and timed sowing and harvesting to ensure a year-round supply of fresh produce. We have learned to dry, salt, smoke, preserve and store food to keep us going through lean times, or to take advantage of abundance. By the 18th century, many people possessed the skills to keep their diet both interesting and nutritious throughout the year.

Today, technology has made many of this hard-earned knowledge unnecessary. Why go to the trouble of storing apples when they fly in from New Zealand and South Africa? Why wait for our brief, natural summer strawberry season when British glasshouse strawberries are available from April to December? Why learn about the best time to eat mackerel when it's always on the slab?

Why indeed? By bringing us consistent, reliable abundance, the modern food industry has removed from us the burden of worrying or learning about our food supply. Providing we have the money (and, preferably, a car) a cornucopia awaits in every supermarket. As a result, few people today - even those who would consider themselves 'foodies' - have much idea of British foods' natural seasonality.

Surely it is entirely to the good that our technologies have seen off the seasons?

Far from it. If you care about what food tastes like and how nutritious it is; if you care about the environment, who controls the food chain, or even just about how the countryside looks, then you will have experienced the fact that our modern victory over the seasons carries a heavy price.

First, there's the issue of quality. Subverting seasonality in a traditional way - for example, turning strawberries into jam - creates something new and interesting. Doing it the modern way - focusing on a few 'all-rounder' varieties, growing them under cover, picking them before they're ripe so they can withstand the tedious journeys from glasshouse to warehouse to supermarket, then refrigerating them - just creates an inferior product. Strawberries are a delicate, ephemeral fruit. They need good sun to develop their flavour, and careful handling; and they need to be eaten quickly after picking as refrigeration may keep them going, but it diminishes their quality. Next to a sun-ripened, just-picked strawberry from a 'pick-your-own' farm, a local greengrocer or your own garden, there is simply no comparison. There's often no comparison in nutritional value either: for example, native, in-season apple varieties such as Cox and Egremont Russet have up to five times the vitamin C content of the bland, imported all-rounders such as Golden Delicious.

Then there's 'food miles', and the energy used in food production. If you believe that human activity has an impact on climate change, then the contemporary food chain is a huge contributor. Tonnes of (untaxed) aviation fuel are burnt in order to bring us green beans in December. 'Efficient' distribution systems mean a farmer's produce may have to travel hundreds of motorway miles to reach the supermarket adjacent to her fields. Huge heated glasshouses pump out CO2 so we can eat out-of-season cucumbers. Our fight with the seasons is accelerating climate change. In-season produce that hasn't travelled far is not just better for your taste buds; it's better for the planet, too.

And how about the countryside? Is a rural vista blighted by acres of polytunnels a price worth paying for a fresh British tomato in April? Has a year-round supply of salmon been worth the devastation that intensive aquaculture has wreaked on local ecosystems?

I don't believe that the public 'demands' out-of-season produce any more than it 'demands' perfectly uniform courgettes. Most of us want tasty, safe, nutritious food and if asked, we'd probably rather it was produced with minimal impact on the environment. The 'demand' is created by retailers fighting for our attention: the daggers-drawn competition of a food industry that is structured to place shareholder value above quality and sustainability.

If we want food that is good to eat, good for our health, and kind to the environment, then it is time to re-connect with the seasons. Not only will we get better food; eating seasonally brings a constantly changing menu of food at its peak. Intense, earthy, almost-forgotten tastes are waiting to be rediscovered. Purple sprouting broccoli then asparagus heralding the spring; the first sharp gooseberry of summer; our sumptuous soft fruit season; the rich tastes of autumn with wild mushrooms, game, apples and pears; then the comforting root vegetables of winter. This is just a tiny peek at the great seasonal banquet on which we can feast throughout the year.

And eating seasonally will help to reverse our food industry's descent into bland, industrialised, homogenised madness. There are thousands of apple varieties in Britain; yet only a few are routinely on sale because such diversity just doesn't fit into the corporate world of mechanised farming, barcodes, logistics and supermarkets. The more we go to farmers' markets and pick-your-own farms, or seek out specialist suppliers to give us the tasty, healthy seasonal food we deserve, the more we will contribute to a sustainable food chain. Growing and raising seasonal food encourages traditional agricultural methods, which themselves encourage biodiversity and a better environment.

Far from seeking to conquer the seasons, we should seek to re-acquaint ourselves with them as a matter of urgency. Great food, and a sustainable future, awaits.