‘I’ve never felt so connected to future generations’: How Marco Bertacca is taking Quorn forward

The Italian-born chief executive tells Andy Martin about pitching in on the factory floor and why the firm’s meat-free product can help feed the world

‘The best way to meet people is to work alongside them’ (Quorn)

As a young intern at Unilever in Italy, engineering graduate Marco Bertacca discovered that the eight people working on different parts of his assembly line were out of sync and perpetually bickering. He came up with a system of rotation that neatly solved the problem and got everyone working in harmony again. Which had two other consequences: Unilever offered him a full-time job and he realised he was probably better at working with people than engineering. “I’m not a very good engineer,” he says. Fast-forward 30 years, and he is CEO of Quorn in the UK and aiming to feed 8 billion people.

Bertacca was born in Milan, but is a highly nomadic citizen of the world. He says his globetrotting is largely down to his wife, Victoria. “She is the explorer – I was just a normal kid.” When he came home one day and told her he had been offered a post abroad, the first question she asked him was “When are we going?” It was all about the adventure. Had she bothered with “Where?” the answer would have been England and the Wirral.

They bought a motorhome and travelled the length and breadth of the country, from Scotland to Wales to Cornwall. “We didn’t feel the need to go back to Italy for our holidays. We took our kids with us and we said, ‘Let’s explore right here.’” They joined the Caravan Club who gave them a map and locations. “Sometimes you woke up in the morning and there would be a farmer knocking on your window and saying, ‘You parked in the wrong field!’ Or you’d get stuck in the mud and you’d need a tractor to haul you out again. It was a beautiful part of our lives.”

They still have a house in the Wirral. “We fell in love with the place and the people,” says Bertacca. But the journey had to continue. After the Netherlands, they left Europe for Asia, living first in Singapore, then Bangkok, and then Manila. Bertacca spent several years in the Philippines, as head of a Dutch company, Alaska Milk.  

He and his family were living in the lap of luxury. “It was like living in a five-star hotel – with a pool and a maid and a driver. You’re pampered. In fact, pampered is an understatement. Everyone is looking after you.” But he was conscious of how different life was for most Filipinos. “It’s a very mixed culture – 105 million people, average age 23. Extreme poverty is above 20 per cent. Ninety-four kids die every day because of malnutrition. Our kids realised that what is a given for us is not a given for so many others.”

Bertacca refused to just stay in the office or lounge by the pool. He ditched his security and went off into the countryside with his wife, rucksacks on their backs. “I broke the rules. I wanted to see the reality of life in the Philippines for myself. There’s a huge difference between reading about it and seeing it.”

The experience was a turning point for him. He recalls meeting mothers who were only able to feed their children a handful of rice, flavoured with a little soy sauce. “Their level of happiness and resilience was incredible. And there is a wisdom – how you can live fulfilling lives on very little. You don’t need a lot of stuff in order to be happy. But I thought, I have to find a way of giving them more protein cheaply.” Milk alone was not the answer.

And then an Indonesian businessman offered him a job “to lead the world to a better place”. At 53, and still hungry for something different and a way of feeding the world, he took it. Bertacca didn’t like the system of having foreigners – like himself – sitting at the top of companies based in the Philippines. Just as he made sure a Thai took over from him in Bangkok, so too in Manila he handed over the reins to a Filipino.

When he arrived back in England, in January last year, it was dark and cold and Bertacca was all alone and living in an Airbnb cottage in Nunthorpe, near the Quorn HQ in Stokeley, south of Middlesborough. Working incognito, he took shifts in their three factories, picking up bags and doing odd jobs. “It’s the best way to meet people, to work alongside them. I want to be part of the team, not just dropping in and out.”

Quorn, founded in 1985, was one of the first to start producing meat-free alternative foods, based on its trademark mycoprotein, which they ferment from a fungus, creating a neutral but nutritious “dough” that lends itself to different flavourings. 

“There was a period of my life which was all about me,” says Bertacca. “It was, ‘I want to do this or I want to do that.’ And now – it probably coincides with the kids getting older and me getting older – I find there’s a lot of pride and satisfaction in helping others and asking, ‘What do they want?’”

Bertacca is passionate and persuasive about Quorn. “It’s good for people: it’s low in saturated fat, high in fibre, and it’s all natural. And it’s good for the planet – we use 90 per cent less water than livestock, and we have a 90 per cent smaller carbon footprint.”  And they use 90 per cent less land because mycoprotein can be grown vertically in vats.

His daughter already knew all about Quorn: she had a friend in the US who had been recommending it to her. Bertacca wants his kids to be proud of him. “I’ve never felt so connected to future generations. This will have an impact on those who stay after me.”

Quorn products are exported around the world – including the Philippines. “I love the idea that we can reach beyond the boundaries of a politically defined country.”

Even in lockdown, Marco Bertacca still goes into the factory once or twice a week. “I want our staff to know I’m with them.” And he connects otherwise by posting videos on his phone. “Why do people want to go to work?” he asks. “Because we have a purpose.” He sums that purpose up in the numbers “8/30”. What that means is that they are aiming to produce portions of food for all 8 billion people on the planet in the year 2030. “I’m too old not to be true to what I really believe,” says Bertacca. “We have nine years left to fulfil the dream.”