We're not out of danger yet with eggs
Across the aisles of American supermarkets, a convergence of pandemic aftershocks, climate disruption, geopolitical conflict, and new trade policy has quietly rewritten the cost of daily sustenance. Since before COVID-19, food prices have climbed 29 percent — a figure that lands differently at each checkout line depending on the thinness of the margin a family is working with. More than half of American adults now name food costs as a genuine source of stress, a number that reminds us how quickly the abstract forces of global economics become intimate and personal. Economists see no clear reprieve on the horizon, only the deepening of pressures already in motion.
- Grocery prices surged 0.6% in a single month in mid-2023 — the sharpest monthly jump in nearly a year — signaling that food inflation is not receding but accelerating.
- A cascade of crises — fractured pandemic supply chains, the Russia-Ukraine war, avian flu, and severe droughts — has stripped away the buffers that once kept food prices stable.
- New tariffs on Brazilian coffee and imported beef cuts, combined with tighter immigration enforcement shrinking agricultural labor, are injecting fresh cost pressure into a system already under strain.
- Consumers are adapting — hunting deals, switching to store brands, comparing prices — but these coping strategies cannot fully absorb a 29% cumulative price increase over three years.
- Economists warn the heaviest tariff impacts have yet to materialize, with fall and winter expected to bring further increases, especially for imported produce like Mexican tomatoes.
Walk into any American supermarket today and the checkout total tells a story three years in the making. Eggs, ground beef, coffee — each a small decision now where it once was routine. Food prices have risen 29 percent since before the pandemic, and between July and August 2023 alone, groceries climbed 0.6 percent in a single month, the steepest jump since October 2022.
The causes are layered and interlocking. COVID-19 shattered supply chains that took years to mend. Russia's invasion of Ukraine sent commodity and energy costs surging. An avian flu outbreak devastated egg production, and though prices have fallen 70 percent from their March peak, food economist David Ortega of Michigan State cautions that the category remains fragile. Climate drought forced American ranchers to sell off livestock they couldn't afford to feed, tightening beef supply even as demand held firm — beef prices rose 2.7 percent in just one month. Brazil, which supplies roughly 30 percent of U.S. coffee, has faced its own drought conditions, and a 50 percent tariff on Brazilian imports has made the morning cup a measurably heavier expense.
Policy is compounding the pressure. New import duties on lean beef cuts and stricter immigration enforcement — which has tightened agricultural labor and pushed wages upward — are costs that economists say have not yet fully worked their way through the system. As a bilateral trade agreement with Mexico nears expiration, imported tomatoes face particular vulnerability heading into winter months when domestic alternatives are scarce.
The human weight of all this is not abstract. An August survey found 53 percent of American adults describe food costs as a major source of stress — more than half the country carrying genuine anxiety about feeding their families. Consumers are adapting as best they can, shifting to store brands and hunting for bargains, but those strategies offer only partial relief against inflation this sustained. Economists see continued pressure through the colder months ahead, and the American grocery bill, for now, shows no sign of relenting.
Walk into any American supermarket these days and the numbers at the checkout tell a story of sustained pressure on household budgets. The eggs cost more. The ground beef costs more. The bag of coffee that used to be a routine purchase now registers as a small decision. These price increases are not random or temporary—they reflect a collision of forces that have reshaped food economics over the past three years, and economists warn the worst may not be behind us.
The numbers are stark. Between July and August of 2023, grocery prices climbed 0.6 percent in a single month, the steepest monthly jump recorded since October 2022. Zoom out further and the picture becomes more sobering: food prices overall have risen 29 percent since before the pandemic upended global supply chains. For families already stretched thin, this compounds month after month at the register.
The roots of this crisis run deep and tangled. When COVID-19 shut down ports, factories, and transportation networks, food supply chains fractured in ways that took years to repair. Just as those disruptions were beginning to ease, Russia's invasion of Ukraine in 2022 sent commodity prices and energy costs spiraling upward. Then came the avian flu outbreak in the United States, which devastated egg production and sent prices soaring. David Ortega, a food economist at Michigan State University, notes that while egg prices have fallen 70 percent from their peak in March, the category remains fragile. "We're not out of danger yet with eggs," he cautioned.
Climate has emerged as perhaps the most relentless driver of food inflation. The severe drought that gripped the United States in 2022 forced ranchers to sell off livestock they could not afford to feed, shrinking the supply of beef at precisely the moment American demand remained high. Between July and August 2023, beef prices rose 2.7 percent. Michael Swanson, chief economist at Wells Fargo's Agri-Food Institute, identified beef as the primary engine pushing supermarket prices upward. Brazil, which supplies roughly 30 percent of America's coffee, has been hammered by its own drought conditions, reducing harvests. On top of that, a 50 percent tariff on Brazilian coffee imports has made the morning cup more expensive for millions of households.
Tariffs and labor policy have added another layer of cost. Economists are beginning to see the ripple effects of new import duties on products like lean beef cuts from Brazil and Australia. Simultaneously, stricter immigration enforcement has tightened the labor supply in agriculture, pushing up wages and, by extension, the cost of food production. These policy shifts will likely intensify their impact as fall and winter arrive, with imported tomatoes from Mexico facing particular pressure as a bilateral trade agreement expires.
The human toll is measurable and widespread. An August survey by the AP-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research found that 53 percent of American adults now describe food costs as a major source of stress. That is more than half the country reporting genuine anxiety about feeding their families. In response, consumers are hunting for bargains, comparing prices, and shifting toward store brands—strategies that help but cannot fully offset the underlying inflation.
There are small bright spots. Fruits and vegetables, after months of deflation, have begun to show price increases of 1.9 percent annually, a shift that suggests some categories may be stabilizing. But the overall trajectory remains uncertain. Ortega and other economists caution that the full weight of tariff policies and market disruptions will not be felt until the colder months, when imported produce becomes more critical and prices typically rise. The American consumer, it seems, should brace for continued pressure on grocery bills in the months ahead.
Citações Notáveis
Beef is driving the increase in supermarket prices right now— Michael Swanson, Wells Fargo Agri-Food Institute
We're starting to see the impact of tariffs on food prices— David Ortega, Michigan State University food economist
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did eggs become so expensive so suddenly? It seems like there was a moment when they just shot up.
The avian flu outbreak in the U.S. wiped out huge portions of the laying hen population. When supply collapses that fast, prices spike. What's interesting is they've come down 70 percent from the peak, but economists still won't say we're safe—the flock is still recovering.
And the beef situation is different, right? That's more about drought?
Exactly. In 2022, the drought was so severe that ranchers couldn't afford to keep their herds. They sold them off. That reduced the breeding stock, which means less beef coming to market now, even as demand stays high. It's a supply problem that takes years to fix.
What about coffee? That seems like it should be less vulnerable to U.S. weather.
It is, but Brazil grows 30 percent of what America imports, and they've been in drought too. Then on top of that, there's a 50 percent tariff on Brazilian coffee. So you've got a climate problem and a trade policy problem stacked on top of each other.
The tariffs seem like they're making everything worse. Are they new?
They're being applied now, and economists are just starting to see the real impact. Lean beef from Brazil and Australia, imported produce—all of it getting more expensive. And stricter labor policies are raising agricultural wages, which gets passed to consumers. The full hit comes in fall and winter.
So when someone at the grocery store feels stressed about prices, what's actually happening?
They're experiencing the collision of three or four different crises at once—pandemic supply chains still healing, climate disruption, geopolitical conflict, and now trade policy. It's not one thing. It's everything hitting the food system at the same time.