Well, not actually a tank, but a Czech Army Field Kitchen. This short video by Kyle Farquharson and Jennifer Giesbrecht of the University of British Columbia Graduate School of Journalism interviews local Steven Forster and his unique food cart.
Notice, at about 1'10", the display of the different types of carrots being prepped for use. Steven is careful to use local and organic wherever he can when making chili. He operates under the name Opa's Suppenküche. and you can check out another video--showing how the tank is heated using green fire logs made primarily of used coffee grounds. He also serves into biodegradable and compostable bowls.And the chili looks pretty darned good too!
Showing posts with label soup kitchen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soup kitchen. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Monday, October 24, 2011
The Kitchen--on TV
The local cable news program ran an article on the Rainbow Kitchen on October 19th. I finally got the recording from my (amazing) sister-in-law and edited it down to the four minutes it ran. I think it went well; although the report neglects the larger issues of food security, it does a good job of reporting on the sense of community the Kitchen is trying to foster and support and on the need in the community.
That Friday we had a group of about a dozen kids about 12-15 years old come in to help for the morning. I found it interesting that one of the kids said afterwards that "I didn't know that people needed help like this here in Canada" or words to that effect. The educational component of the Kitchen seems to be almost as important as the proactical aspect of feeding people. *sigh*
That Friday we had a group of about a dozen kids about 12-15 years old come in to help for the morning. I found it interesting that one of the kids said afterwards that "I didn't know that people needed help like this here in Canada" or words to that effect. The educational component of the Kitchen seems to be almost as important as the proactical aspect of feeding people. *sigh*
Thursday, June 2, 2011
From Farm to Kitchen
I've just about finished reading an influential book which helped lead to the green revolution (Hugo Osvald's The Earth Can Feed Us. Hugo was a Swedish academic, writer, and legislator.). I've also begun Empires of Food: Feast, Famine, and the Rise and Fall of Civilizations by Fraser and Rimas (you have no idea how nice it is to have access to the University of Victoria library system...), a book that has helped clarify my thinking about famine and I'm only about fifty pages into it.
There's also the matter of the difficult-to-predict flood in southern Manitoba (and in Saskatchewan) and the sudden explosion of wildfires in northern Alberta (one of which took out almost half the town of Slave Lake). Both the floods and the fires are exactly what climate scientists have been predicting (both more frequent weather-related events, and more extreme weather-related events) and events like these are going to have tremendous impact on our future food production in this country.
But I would rather talk about my new volunteer position instead. It is now official; as of 23 May, I am the volunteer coordinator and kitchen manager at the Rainbow Kitchen in Victoria. Well, at least for the next six weeks or so.
This is an outgrowth of my long-held desire to feed the world. Or at least, the part of it I can reach. When we were growing vegetables on DoubleJoy Farm and selling them at market (what is called “truck gardening”), we would haul upwards of a quarter to a half tonne of veg to market on any given day. We tried to provide a high-quality fresh product, and while we did want a pretty good price for it, that price more accurately reflected the real costs of raising food. Sustainable agriculture is not cheap, and unless you can take advantage of cheap labour or major equipment (or both), small producers are always going to be asking a premium price. But they are offering a premium product. And there is something else they offer; contact with the farmer. After we'd been selling vegetables a while, I noticed that, at market, it wasn't so much the veg we were selling, but the contact. A link to the land, the product, and the producer was essential to the customer. It was also essential to us as producers. My mother, who started vegetable production on the family farm back in the mid-seventies, took me aside on day and questioned me about the pounds of produce we were giving away. We did it right from the beginning—people would walk by and we'd offer them whatever we had on hand. Peas, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, whatever. Mother couldn't get over how many we gave out. Fistfuls, one two, three at a time, to kids. More to their parents. That, mother pointed out, was money out of my pocket.
There's also the matter of the difficult-to-predict flood in southern Manitoba (and in Saskatchewan) and the sudden explosion of wildfires in northern Alberta (one of which took out almost half the town of Slave Lake). Both the floods and the fires are exactly what climate scientists have been predicting (both more frequent weather-related events, and more extreme weather-related events) and events like these are going to have tremendous impact on our future food production in this country.
But I would rather talk about my new volunteer position instead. It is now official; as of 23 May, I am the volunteer coordinator and kitchen manager at the Rainbow Kitchen in Victoria. Well, at least for the next six weeks or so.
This is an outgrowth of my long-held desire to feed the world. Or at least, the part of it I can reach. When we were growing vegetables on DoubleJoy Farm and selling them at market (what is called “truck gardening”), we would haul upwards of a quarter to a half tonne of veg to market on any given day. We tried to provide a high-quality fresh product, and while we did want a pretty good price for it, that price more accurately reflected the real costs of raising food. Sustainable agriculture is not cheap, and unless you can take advantage of cheap labour or major equipment (or both), small producers are always going to be asking a premium price. But they are offering a premium product. And there is something else they offer; contact with the farmer. After we'd been selling vegetables a while, I noticed that, at market, it wasn't so much the veg we were selling, but the contact. A link to the land, the product, and the producer was essential to the customer. It was also essential to us as producers. My mother, who started vegetable production on the family farm back in the mid-seventies, took me aside on day and questioned me about the pounds of produce we were giving away. We did it right from the beginning—people would walk by and we'd offer them whatever we had on hand. Peas, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, whatever. Mother couldn't get over how many we gave out. Fistfuls, one two, three at a time, to kids. More to their parents. That, mother pointed out, was money out of my pocket.
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