Ghiorse had stopped cooking professionally by the time she had moved back to her hometown of Greenwich in 2014; years of cooking at scale had been physically demanding and stressful, and she was ready to expand her knowledge and skills. But she felt she had lost her platform to connect with the food system in an impactful way.

She began learning about the area’s food system and volunteering with local endeavors like the town’s sustainability committee. The committee helps guide Greenwich in advancing sustainable policies and practices that impact its natural environment, economy, and community. As chair of the committee’s food systems sector, she noticed “a gap,” she says, “in general awareness of the deeply ingrained, harmful impacts of our industrial food system.”

So, in 2020, she founded The Foodshed Network (TFN), an educational and convening platform to encourage residents in her hometown of Greenwich, CT, and surrounding Fairfield County to become food system changemakers.

“Our food system is so complicated,” says Ghiorse. “It’s very important to know and understand the impacts of our industrial system and then to understand the huge amounts of creativity, connectivity, and community that happens around food.”

Living in the activist hotbed of San Francisco’s Mission District helped her realize the connection between systemic racism and food access. “It’s fraught with deeply rooted practices of exploitation,” says Ghiorse, “beginning with the enslavement of Africans, the genocide of Indigenous peoples, and extraction of soil watersheds, and natural and social ecosystems.

“I learned about the importance of bridge building, network weaving, cross pollinating between initiatives, and convening people around food, and,” she emphasizes, “using the power of gathering as a lever for social change and healing.”

To address all of these distinct yet intersecting issues, TFN is made up of several sub-organizations, including the Greenwich Food Alliance (GFA), The Foodshed Forum, and a resource library. The GFA is a community of practice, assembling business leaders and government officials in an informal group bound by shared interests and expertise. Members network, share ideas, and learn about issues and advocate for policy surrounding food, such as making SNAP benefits available at nearby farmers markets. The Foodshed Forum is the educational arm, partnering with organizations to host events such as a current three-part lecture series entitled “Heritage Foodways: Seed, Hearth & Taste” at local libraries.

The resource library, available on the website, offers a wealth of information including Thirty Ways to be a Food System Changemaker, concrete suggestions people can take to be changemakers. There’s also a monthly newsletter.

Ghiorse runs TFN full-time; it’s self-funded on a shoestring budget, but she is working towards non-profit status and finding a fiscal sponsor so she can begin fundraising.

Myra Klockenbrick, land and water Sector chair of the Greenwich Sustainability Committee and co-director of Greenwich Pollinator Pathway, credits Ghiorse with bringing up a conversation that is not natural to Greenwich. Although Greenwich is particularly affluent, the town has initiatives such as community gardens and a food pantry, as 29 percent of the community experiences financial hardship.

“She’s really deepened our awareness of the diversity in our population,” says Klockenbrick. “She has this knack and grace of not being on her high horse, but educating us deeply about our food system, both good and bad in ways that aren’t scolding but always uplifting.”

“Ali’s brought this food system conversation to Greenwich,” says Sarah Coccaro, the Town of Greenwich’s assistant director of environmental affairs. “There was conversation around food systems,” she adds, “but there wasn’t any framing or awareness of the food system with a sort of equitable racial justice lens on it.”

Coccaro says food systems topics are being integrated into conversations within the town’s Conservation committee, and that she sees the context that TFN offers helping residents understand the industrial food system’s impact. She mentions a new Grow A Row effort in which community members grow an extra row of food in their gardens to donate. “People are starting to connect dots around food systems and how it needs to change and what they can do on a local level or regional level,” she says, “and I’m proud to see that change happening.”

Ghiorse aspires to create a culture shift where food, land, and seed sovereignty are the norm. That’s “the North Star for me, where people and community reclaim our collective commons,” she sas. “That’s fertile soil, clean waterways, and nutrient-rich woodlands that are accessible and available to everyone as a human right. That’s foundational.”

The post Spotlight On a Network Aiming to Make Everyone a Food Changemaker appeared first on Modern Farmer.

Sherman is no stranger himself to the environmental and economic challenges of running an aquaculture business. Island Creek is a vertically integrated oyster operation, meaning it both farms and distributes its own oysters. But he’s still intent on turning the tides of the canning industry. In July, Sherman announced the launch of his latest venture, the Island Creek Cannery, the first ever single-origin canning facility of its kind in the US.

Long before the pandemic sent American appetites seaward, stoking our interest in convenient, high-end canned fish, Island Creek—a primarily fresh seafood business—had its eye on the tin. “We’ve always been interested in democratizing oysters and shellfish in general,” says Sherman. In 2016, Island Creek opened The Portland Oyster Shop—the company’s first full-service restaurant—in downtown Portland, Maine. But the raw bar-only concept was running lean, and Sherman quickly realized he needed another food option to bulk out the menu that wouldn’t require a setup to make hot food. Taking cues from already-established tin-centric restaurants such as NYC’s Maiden Lane and Boston’s haley.henry, Sherman opted for serving conservas, a culinary delicacy popular across the Mediterranean, whereby seafood is preserved in brines, olive oils, and other flavorful sauces. Conservas store indefinitely and require little back-of-house labor, an operational boon. But would the market find them satisfying? “I was convinced at that point that it was just not going to work, but people really responded to [the conservas],” says Sherman. “That gave us a pretty good indicator that this thing has some legs.”

To meet the newfound customer demand for tinned fish, Island Creek began importing, distributing, and co-branding its own line of conservas for Conservas Mariscadora, a collective of independent female shellfish harvesters—or mariscadoras—in Galicia, Spain who harvest fully traceable seafood from the waters of the Cantabrian Sea. While relatively new to the US market, in Spain, conservas are ubiquitous. “The Spanish eat a ton of seafood,” says Sherman, who began traveling the country researching sustainable fish farms on an Eisenhower Fellowship in 2018. “When we eat french fries, they’re eating shellfish.” Thus, canning became a necessary innovation, entrenching itself into Spanish culture. Sherman noticed this most starkly while shopping at El Corte Inglés, where tin after tin of conservas stocked four full aisles’ worth of grocery store shelves. “The octopus section was bigger than the soup section at most American grocery stores,” says Sherman.

That’s when things began to gel for Sherman. For Island Creek, a company familiar with the challenges of manufacturing a seasonal product, packing seafood in tins presented a shiny solution. By canning stateside, they could pack their seasonal product at peak quality while creating inventory that could be sold year-round at a good value. Additionally, the growing popularity of conservas in the US meant the demand for high-quality fish aligned with the company’s own standards.

Located in the historic fishing community of New Bedford, Massachusetts, the Island Creek Oyster Cannery is a small operation with big ambitions. Blending Island Creek Oysters’ already established brand of sustainable aquaculture with the American market’s newfound hunger for high-quality, shelf-stable seafood, Island Creek is resurrecting a dormant US tradition that’s existed since the 1800s—albeit repurposing it with Mediterranean ideals to meet the needs of the contemporary market.

While Island Creek has built an entire business out of fresh oysters, it hasn’t yet canned any. “Oyster supply has been pretty tight,” says Sherman, which drives the prices up. “They’re also the most difficult shellfish to can well.” Instead, the company is focused on farming clams, as well as sourcing from other New England seafood producers it’s met and vetted, such as Cherrystone Aqua-Farms in Virginia. “We’re definitely branching out, but we’re trying to keep everything single-origin, single-producer, and we’re trying to keep everything working with responsible harvesters and farmers that meet our standards,” says Sherman. The term “single-origin” is used broadly across the specialty food and beverage space (think chocolate, coffee, and whiskey) and refers to foods from a specific farm, location, or source. The same is true in aquaculture. It’s a strong marker of fish and seafood traceability—and thus, quality.

Having a cannery in the US that sources seafood exclusively from American shores presents a significant opportunity for American seafood producers. Island Creek is confident that this venture will support coastal communities across the United States by providing a stable, year-round supply of seafood. This steady inventory will benefit the numerous seafood-related businesses that are a major part of the East Coast’s fishing economy.

“Since we’ve publicized the cannery, I’ve had half the medium- to small-scale seafood producers in the Northeast reach out to me about handling their product,” says Sherman. “We just now need to connect the dots and make the demand there as well. I think we’re doing that, but it’s brick by brick.” To boost the lowbrow reputation of canned fish that still dominates much of the US market, Island Creek is choosing to can in European format tins—generally wider and shallower than a typical tuna or cat food tin—which he hopes will telegraph the quality of the product and justify the premium price point.

With little in the way of tradition in the United States, the tinned fish market is still finding its sea legs; Sherman notes there is “some chaos in the market” with tinned fish prices ranging anywhere from $4 to $30, but the company is making strides towards its goal of democratizing shellfish. “I didn’t think we would sell to 800 chefs around the country every week…but honestly, we sell a ton of tin fish to chefs and restaurants that aren’t tinned fish restaurants. They’re using them as an ingredient in a pasta dish, or on rice. And they’re using it because they don’t have the labor and the shucking and the steaming and the sauce making,” says Sherman. He is confident that other canneries like his will follow suit, especially along the East Coast where fish stocks and shellfish farms are abundant.

However, Sherman is candid about the challenges that lie ahead: In countries such as Spain and Portugal, where most canneries are run by generations of families, labor costs are a fraction of those in the United States. Nevertheless, canning has long been, and continues to be, a revolutionary process with a significant impact on ensuring sustainable aquaculture practices and preserving local fishing communities that rely on canning during the off-season. It also benefits consumers, who can enjoy high-quality seafood at a more reasonable price point than fresh seafood. Says Sherman, “We’re blazing the trail—for better or worse.”

The post Spotlight On a Cannery Trying to Revive A Dormant Fishing Tradition appeared first on Modern Farmer.

When farmers in cold climates take a well-earned winter rest, their communities still want local produce. Grocery chains provide food through winter, shipping goods from across the world, but this is expensive and can weaken local self-reliance and food security. Having no local options makes a town more dependent on outside food sources that the community does not control, and it reduces the amount of dollars staying local. It also renders Fairbanks less food secure because, like other rural towns in cold climates, it is at the end of a long, tenuous supply chain with a high chance of disruption from too much snow on hundreds of miles of roads to shipping delays as seen during the COVID-19 pandemic. A lack of local produce during winter also means many farmers lose income from fall to spring.

Sam Knapp, a farmer in Fairbanks, has found a way to bridge that gap by building his own affordable, accessible cold storage. This has allowed him to sell his produce through one of the country’s harshest winters. He combines a science background with experience running his own farm, and after speaking with cold storage innovators across the country, he is sharing what he has learned in his new book, Beyond the Root Cellar.

Knapp has a B.S. in chemistry and physics. “My first job out of college was doing thermal modeling as an engineer. It is in my wheelhouse to think about heat transfer and phase change.” He then experimented with cold storage running a farm in Michigan. Knapp used Google Scholar to review studies on the storage needs of each vegetable he wanted to grow. For example, Knapp found that winter squash stores best after curing outside, which involves healing and hardening its rind, but curing will not happen in colder and wetter climates. To make up for uncontrollable wet and cold weather, Knapp introduced humidity control measures into his storage plans.

In 2020, Knapp moved to Fairbanks to start Offbeet Farm. There, he found farmers using root cellars and other cold storage techniques that were costeffective at temperatures well below zero degrees. But few farmers, if any, stored for more than a month or two. “Most farms here sell out by early September.”

So, Knapp set out to build a structure on his 1.5-acre farm that could store his produce through the entire winter, a time when temperatures drop to -40 degrees for weeks on end. The structure is 25 square feet, and looks like an ordinary outdoor shed, but it rests on specialized concrete forms that encase insulation and act as retaining walls. He now runs a successful over-winter Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) and sells his produce through March.

“I built this building myself, and the total infrastructure cost was about $55,000. I have the capability of storing 35,000 to 40,000 pounds of produce.” With around 120 CSA customers, Knapp currently stores 25,000 pounds of produce, and he plans to expand each year.

Knapp says cold storage provides additional revenue streams and work-life balance; both are hard to come by for small farmers. “Farmers around here get half the year off, and they enjoy that, but their growing season is intense. It’s rough. It’s hard to make it through that time. I rarely feel burnt out from farming.” With cold storage, farmers do not have to harvest and sell all of their produce within the short growing season. It also helps balance self-care and family.

Storability varies by product: While Knapp has found that he and his customers are still eating their cabbage into the summer of the following growing year, storing his onions has proven tougher. He is still searching for an onion varietal that can store well after almost 24 hours of sunlight during the subarctic summer, followed by a cold and damp fall.

Every farmer experiments, and Knapp is no exception. He’s made some surprising discoveries. For instance, Knapp had not anticipated the warmth made by the vegetables themselves. After being picked, vegetables still respirate, (that is, metabolize carbohydrates), and produce heat as a byproduct—so much so that even when outside temperatures hit -10 degrees, Knapp has to cool the unit to lower the inside temperature down to 32 degrees. “This last winter, there was one time when it was -25 out, and my cooling fans were turning on.”

While Knapp is proud of his innovations, he still relies on more established farmers in the area for best practices in storing and selling produce at a commercial scale through a Fairbanks winter. “Half of it is hard research. The other half is talking to other farmers.” Building cold storage also comes with up-front investment and risk. “It seems very risky at the start, (to put) all this money down to get into it in the first place.”

To learn how others got over this risk and technical difficulty, Knapp interviewed cold-storage innovators from Winnipeg to North Carolina in Beyond the Root Cellar. It also shares practical know-how, ultimately showing that cold storage is within reach for all farmers. For example, readers learn that many farmers can take advantage of their existing summer storage facilities.

“Many people are primed to do this already,” he says. “You can start storing 3,000 to 5,000 pounds of produce by investing a couple thousand bucks just converting some space you already have.”

Never one to get ahead of himself, Knapp also points out that, in every interview, he heard the same touchstone: “Start small.” Knapps book, Beyond the Root Cellar, will be released November 14.

The post Meet the Modern Farmer Cracking Cold Storage in the Coldest Places appeared first on Modern Farmer.

Good shoes are a must. Beneath my Doc Martens, the floor is already strewn with fat and meat scraps and bone fragments as the cutters heft chunks of what was very recently a living cow, deftly scraping every edible bit from the bones. The butcher pushes a massive carcass into the cutting room from the cooler, hanging from a hook on a rail. It looks like a red and yellow wall of flesh, but the cutters work it like sculptors, carving away to reveal the recognizable food within. 

This is a dying art—and an art of dying. I grab a cart filled with freshly cut steaks and roasts— wrapping and weighing, labeling and stacking. Two days a week, gunshots from the kill floor punctuate the mechanical noise of the place.

This is what it’s like to work at a meat-processing plant. 

In August of 2023, I began my time at a small-scale, family-owned, USDA-inspected plant in rural Virginia, where I worked until February 2024. I was in the middle of a season at an organic vegetable farm, realizing I preferred working with animals rather than plants (having had prior livestock farm experience). I wanted to stay involved in local food production, and meat processing was the only piece of the puzzle I hadn’t seen yet. Besides, I’ve always been fascinated by the craft of butchery and, as a hunter, I knew I’d gain valuable skills. So, I jumped into the fire.

Today, it’s kill day, and the slaughter crew is on the front lines of the transition from animal to food. Where I worked, they slaughtered two days a week. Pork and beef must be kept separate and are killed on different days and stored apart. The crew stuns, kills, bleeds, guts, and skins them all before breakfast.

Here’s how it works: Livestock are unloaded into the pens, and provided with water and shelter. Legally, they must be slaughtered within 24 hours of drop-off. When their time comes, they walk one at a time onto the kill floor, where they are restrained in a box-like device. This standardized equipment is designed to minimize livestock stress, and similar to the squeeze chutes used for handling back on the farm. Then, under federal law, they are rendered insensible to pain. At this particular plant, the preferred stunning method was a rifle round to the brain, but electrocution, gas, and various bolt guns are also permitted, depending on the animal and facility. Afterward, the animal is dressed; if it’s pork, it’s cooled and cut immediately.

The “suck truck” (a truck with a huge trailer and hoses) then collects usable byproducts such as hooves, hides, and viscera to be hauled to a rendering plant—one of around 300 in the country—and made into a plethora of industrial products used for anything from shampoo to dog food. It’s considered a form of biological recycling. 

Although the plants try to use as much of the animal as possible, there are restrictions. Trimmed meat and fat become burger and sausage. Organs go into pon hoss (similar to scrapple), bones are cut for soup and dog chews. Anything that can’t be consumed or rendered must be discarded.  

But beef must be aged for a week or more to help develop its flavor, mellow its texture, and reduce its moisture content. When it’s ready, the butcher brings it out to the cutting room and then the process starts again: breaking, boning, wrapping, and freezing—stored until it’s picked up by the retail or custom slaughter (private use) client.

It’s a dynamic and dirty job, but someone has to do it. One of the more than half a million workers helping to get the billions of pounds of meat on America’s tables is Britny Polk of Mount Jackson, Virginia. She’s been at the plant for six years, learning from her mother, who worked there for two decades. In addition to wrapping hundreds of pounds of meat a day, Polk manages cut sheets—instructions on how customers want their meat butchered and packaged —and much more. 

“As I’m wrapping, I get pulled away a lot to help wait on customers, answer the phones, doing bills, scheduling hogs, beef, and lambs,” she said in an email. Depending on the day, she also makes sausage and hamburger patties using a modified cookie dough machine, orders supplies, and makes sure people show up to drop off their live animal and, later, pick up their meat.

The need for these services is only growing, yet there is a constant labor shortage. “We have a really hard time finding workers and for workers to stay,” Polk said. There are unique workplace hazards here; using sharp implements and machinery comes with an elevated risk of injury. Live animals may behave erratically and even a deceased animal can kick. On busy days, the time flies, but it’s still hours of standing on a hard floor, and around constant sensory stimulation.

Heavy lifting, slippery surfaces, sub-zero temperatures, and exposure to bestial bodily fluids are all part of a typical workday. Every season can be stressful because people often celebrate with meats: spring lamb, summer grilling staples, and holiday roasts. But it can also be fun, and time flies on busy days. I worked in an environment where people were supportive and shared a sense of humor. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have participated in a part of our food system that’s too often intentionally overlooked.

It was awesome watching the butchers breaking carcasses into primals and fabricating mouthwatering cuts. My coworkers were rock stars of the food prep world, cutting it to order right there behind the counter. I miss cracking jokes while listening to music, lamenting bizarre cutting requests (New York strips ground into burger?), or wishing someone would breed a cow with more than one heart, tongue, and tail so we could keep up with demand for offal. 

I saw some truly exemplary meat: exquisitely marbled steaks, thick chops from healthy hogs—aesthetics and culinary qualities reflecting the mindful husbandry of the livestock. But that’s not always the case, as farming practices vary. Meat from stressed animals can exhibit off coloration or blood spots, and underfed animals are woefully lean or even atrophied. “There is a lot that goes into producing a good animal,” Polk said. “If you’re not feeding them appropriately, when they need it, your beef will either be way too fatty or it won’t have enough fat on it. A lot of factors go into having a nice-looking cow to process. ”

Regardless of who raises the animals and how, it’s the meat processor’s job to turn them all into food. I sincerely hope that more consumers will try to understand that there is a human cost behind their meat. “A farmer brings this live animal in and we go through every step from killing to wrapping to ensure people have food. It would be great for everyone to know how we get that product to people,” adds Polk.

There are no windows in slaughterhouses, but I aim to shed light on this crucial and underappreciated profession in the spirit of transparency, acceptance, and progress. The meat industry is here to stay and awareness is what it needs to survive.

“I think everyone should educate themselves on the process of how a living animal becomes a steak that is ready to eat. People should care because this is how you get your food,” Polk said. 

For those interested in the fascinating fields of meat science and butchery, learn hands-on. Do a season on a farm or with a deer processor. Consider a meat-cutting apprenticeship. It takes an open mind, a team player attitude, and a stomach as strong as your back, but also a love and respect for the people, places, and animals that feed us. My experience at the meat plant is summed up well by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s quote: “You have just dined, and however scrupulously the slaughterhouse is concealed in the graceful distance of miles, there is complicity.” If you purchase meat, you are part of this system, and blissful ignorance and denial are a disservice to every being within it. It’s time for consumers to recognize their role, take accountability, and help wherever they can.

The post Inside a Slaughterhouse: The Human Cost of Your Meat appeared first on Modern Farmer.

They are tulip snails, a mollusk found in the sandy bottoms of shallow pools along the south eastern coast of the US. And while they may not be the typical fare you expect at a swanky seafood restaurant in the US, at Seabird, they sit proudly alongside menu classics such as crab, yellowfin tuna and oysters. 

Seabird, in Wilmington, NC, is a sustainable seafood place that utilizes foraging to get many of its ingredients—and to act as an opportunity for education. Rather than rely only on farmed fish or wild caught fish that is shipped from ports across the world, Neff tries to work with local food, which can create a bit of uncertainty in the menu. Ordering 50 pounds of swordfish from a distributor is a fairly straightforward process. But with local fishing and foraging, you’re working with a wild population, and you’re not guaranteed to find what you set out for. You’re also limited by the seasonality of the food. 

 “I think everybody knows that tomatoes or okra or cabbages are seasonal,” says chef and owner Dean Neff. “But I don’t know that everyone knows the seasonality of oysters or speckled sea trout. Being able to have conversations about that and about sustainability with seafood was important to us.” 

Neff opened the restaurant in 2021 with his partner, and he started working with foragers to access local ingredients at sustainable levels. That’s when he met Ana Shellem of Shell’em Seafood, a coastal forager and sustainable fisher who works along the coastline of Masonboro Island. Shellem began foraging five years ago, after many years of harvesting wild shellfish. As a conservationist, Shellem is careful when and where she harvests, only bringing in what is in season and in small quantities. “When you eat wild and in season…I only eat oysters in season, even though with farmed oysters, you can eat them year round. But I think everything is at its finest when it’s in season. Eating a tomato in the winter is not as exciting as eating a tomato in the summer and appreciating the flavor profiles.”

Most shellfish seasons have to do with their cycle of breeding and molting, normally coinciding with water temperature. For instance, stone crabs along the east coast are out of season in the summer months, when the crabs will molt, shedding their shells and pumping the warm sea water in and out of their bodies to create new exoskeletons. It’s when the crabs have shed their shells that they can mate, creating nests for their egg sacs. That mating and molting will be done by October, and the season will pick up again then. It’s similar for lobsters. Over the summer, lobsters will migrate into warmer, shallower water to feed and molt, which makes them easier to catch. However, a lobster without its hard shell is trickier to transport, so the peak of lobster season is often earlier in the springtime or in December, before the waters get too cold. 

Each organism in the ocean, just like on land, has a season of rest, regrowth, or stasis, followed by a season of abundance. As consumers, we’re often used to eating strawberries in January or oysters in June. But to truly be aligned with seasonality, Shellem and Neff say, is to widen your palate and embrace other options. 

“It’s amazing to work with James Beard chefs that are educated and able to experiment with obscure things, like the tulip snails that Dean’s been working with, or North Carolina whelks. The seaweeds I get to bring him are really fun, like the sea bean or prickly pear cactus,” says Shellem. “I’ll even drop off samples so they can make a staff meal, just to educate their staff as well. It is so much fun to see so many people so passionate about the same thing with the same goal.”

But here’s where it gets tricky. Eating seasonally or prioritizing local foods is not just about trying new things. It’s also about learning what the limitations are and sometimes, living with disappointment. Foragers on land, for instance, will only take a certain number of mushrooms in a patch, to ensure sufficient regrowth. For Shellem, the same principle applies to seafood. She gathers what she needs for her restaurants and leaves the rest to flourish. That can make for an uncomfortable conversation at the dinner table. “When we were first opening, we explained to the servers that we’re going to run out of a particular fish tonight, and for some people that gives them anxiety,” says Neff. “But I think that should make you happy. Because that’s the nature of a sustainable restaurant; supplies are limited. We will be constantly changing.” For Neff, leaning into that change, and getting his customers used to it, is key. 

For Shellem, the lesson is more blunt but arguably more widely applicable. “I think if people could be more comfortable with being told ‘no’ sometimes, that would be awesome.” 

As for the tulip snails, Neff says they’ve been popular, and they’ve even had customers come in specifically looking for the snails. “We had people come all the way from France, not too long ago, and they said their main agenda was to eat at the restaurant,” which Neff concedes is a lot of pressure on one dinner order. However, it also means his message is spreading. “It meant so much to them to try [an ingredient] so unique that they’ve never had before.” 

The post Meet the Modern Chef and Forager Duo Bringing Snails to the Menu appeared first on Modern Farmer.

Kieffer founded Shifting Tides in February 2023 to teach people about intertidal ecosystems—the unique space where the ocean meets the land, which transforms hour by hour as the tide flows in and out—and how they impact our day-to-day lives, especially when it comes to what we eat.

Kieffer leads visitors on tours of the Oregon coast, where she harvests and then prepares a meal with wild seaweed and shellfish right on the beach. I had previously obtained a state license for the right to harvest with her-/rather than merely watch—so, after she demonstrated the proper technique, I was handed a small knife and we worked side by side to carefully remove mussels and gooseneck barnacles from a massive triangular rock slick with saltwater. Enthusiasm radiated from Kieffer as she offered advice and information, but it was frilly neon green seaweed that caused her to truly light up. 

“In Oregon, the seaweed harvest season is from March to June 15th, with a limit of a one-gallon bag of seaweed per day and only three bags per year,” says Kieffer . “The regulations are such that you need to use a knife or scissors to remove seaweeds, and it is actually illegal to pull the holdfast, or root-like anchor, from the rock. This allows them to regrow year after year. It does regenerate quickly, but we should never be harvesting all of what a given area has and should be leaving plenty intact for wild species to utilize.”

Seaweed is a key component of what Kieffer considers to be “climate cuisine,” which includes foraged and farmed foods that positively impact our climate. A primary example is the wild bull kelp pickles that she makes and serves to those who join her with Shifting Tides, which have a pleasantly vinegary, spicy flavor and firm crunch. Participants also have a chance to try the dulse seaweed that she farms and pan fries in olive oil for a delightfully crispy, salty snack. During my tour, I sampled the dulse before and after Kieffer cooked it, and I liked it in its raw form, too—mildly briny in taste and slightly chewy; reminiscent of the sea, but not so different from terrestrial leafy greens. Given the versatility of this specific seaweed, she uses it in and on all kinds of foods, including homemade pasta, vegan Caesar salad dressing, and everything bagel seasoning. 

Seaweed is the primary focus of Kieffer’s work as an educator, forager, and farmer. When she is not leading Shifting Tides tours, Kieffer works as part of a small team at Oregon Seaweed, a local seaweed farm where she has been helping to grow a variety called Pacific Dulse since 2021. Much of their seaweed is sold fresh (about $15 per pound) or dried to nearby restaurants and home cooks, but it is also available for worldwide shipping. As plant-based and environmentally conscious food trends become more widespread, Oregon Seaweed is well poised to address the growing global market demand for seaweed, which was valued at more than $17 billion in 2023 and is expected to double in the next decade. 

“One of the things I love about both of my jobs is that there are not two days in a week that look the same,” says Kieffer. “With Oregon Seaweed, some days I’m outside on the farm all day, cleaning tanks, drying and packaging seaweeds; others, I’m at restaurants teaching chefs how to cook dulse, or at markets talking to customers about it; others, I’m on the computer all day answering emails or dealing with online sales. For Shifting Tides, it’s the same—there’s so much time outside at low tide teaching people and cooking with folks.” 

Kieffer’s schedule ebbs and flows depending on both the tides and the tourism season. In good weather, she may have tours scheduled 10 days in a row and a workshop every weekend. Each of her roles has its own particular responsibilities, but there are clear throughlines between them. 

“Being that seaweed is a less popular food in our culture, a lot of my work with seaweed is teaching people how and why to use it,” says Kieffer. “The topic of eating seaweed is a segway into so many other amazing conservation efforts around food. 

“Regenerative aquaculture is giving back to the environment, rather than just taking from or having a neutral effect on it, and requires no or very minimal inputs to grow food,” explains Kieffer. “Seaweeds, for instance, require sunlight and natural nutrients; no freshwater, herbicides, or pesticides. They are removing carbon dioxide from the water through the process of photosynthesis as well as excess nutrients like nitrogen, which can have positive effects on the local ecosystem.”

The dulse that Kieffer farms at Oregon Seaweed, for example, has the capacity to sequester one pound of carbon for every four pounds of seaweed grown. Out in the wild, Kieffer harvests about 10 different varieties of seaweed, including: nori, kombu, wakame, sugar kelp, pepper dulse, and sea spaghetti. Several of these will be well known to sushi lovers, but few people would know where to buy the seaweed on its own, let alone what it looks like in its natural form. 

Given her sense of perfect ease while navigating the hidden nooks and crannies of Cannon Beach, I was surprised to learn that it was not Kieffer’s native habitat. She was born in New York City and came to Oregon as a teenager. Soon after, she began working for an environmental education company in the intertidal ecosystems. She immediately fell in love.

“I grew up in a family of chefs, restaurant owners, cookbook editors, and overall food lovers, so I was born with a deep connection to food whether I realized it or not,” says Kieffer. “As soon as I moved to the beach, I got away from food service and began working alongside our oceans. I learned so much about food systems and ultimately what goes into getting food from the ocean to our plates.” 

On my visit to Cannon Beach, Kieffer pointed out starfish smaller than my thumbnail suctioned to shells latched to the rocks around tide pools. She told me about sculpin (a type of narrow fish with a wide mouth) that live among sea lettuce and camouflage themselves to match their green hue.

Since founding Shifting Tides over a year ago, Kieffer has explored the ecosystems of the Pacific Northwest with people of all ages from all over the country. “At the beginning, it was mostly people from Oregon. Now, by partnering with some hotels on the coast as well as destination management organizations, like Travel Oregon and Oregon Coast Visitors Association, I have been teaching many people who aren’t from the area at all—college students from Wyoming, executive groups from Tennessee, couples from Texas.” 

While visitors may not have access to the same exact wild seafoods when they return home, they come away with an understanding of regenerative food systems that is applicable anywhere. 

“There are so many people working hard to bring food from the sea to our table in a way that is sustainable and helps coastal communities,” says Kieffer. “Telling stories of the people, practices, science, and conservation along our coast over a meal of foraged and farmed seaweeds is truly a dream.”

Kieffer’s dream is the reality that we need. As I watched her sautee seaweed on a portable seafoam green grill just yards from where we had harvested it, I felt a kind of hope that is rarer than a blue-sky day in Oregon. There is no single, simple fix for our food system, but Shifting Tides shows the valuable work already being done and invites us to join in.

The post The Bounty Between the Tides appeared first on Modern Farmer.

 Miller’s life sounds bucolic however, this year has been anything but, with the farmer coming up against the Pennsylvania court system in January. Two Shiga toxin illnesses producing E.coli in children, one in New York, the other in Michigan, were traced to Miller’s raw milk products. (Miller asked that his lawyer, Robert Barnes, respond to questions about allegations of food-borne illnesses originating from his farm. Barnes, however, couldn’t be reached for comment.) 

 It also came to light that Miller was selling raw milk without a permit, which is required by state law. The state attorney general initiated legal action against the farmer to prevent him from producing or distributing his products. Miller pushed back on the basis that his clientele was private. Lancaster County Judge Thomas Sponaugle ruled that Miller couldn’t sell his raw milk products without a permit, although immediate family members were allowed to consume them. Sponaugle then clarified that his ruling didn’t prevent Miller from selling his products in other states.

The US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), however, doesn’t allow the interstate sales of raw milk if the product isn’t pasteurized. This prohibition has been in place since 1987, with sales having to meet the standards of the Pasteurized Milk Ordinance. This has been unsuccessfully challenged in the past by groups such as the Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund, which has long sought to sell raw butter interstate. But despite these rulings, to date, Miller has not been shut down.

 Pasteurization is a process discovered in the 19th century that involves heating products to 145 F, which kills off almost all yeasts, molds, and disease-causing bacteria such as Salmonella and listeria—potentially deadly if transmitted to people. Such pathogens are especially dangerous for children, reports the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Raw milk can be contaminated with any number of substances, including animal feces, bacteria from insects, rodents, or farm equipment, or drugs used to treat ill cows. Before pasteurization, raw milk products accounted for 25 percent of food-borne illnesses, including transmission of tuberculosis and typhoid. Since pasteurization, milk is traced to less than one percent of illness outbreaks. 

 The FDA lists 133 campylobacter, salmonella, and E. coli disease outbreaks in the US between 1987 and 2010 that were linked to raw milk and raw milk consumption. These outbreaks caused 2,659 cases of illnesses, 269 hospitalizations, and three deaths, according to the FDA.

 Miller says fears are overblown.  Government organizations such as the FDA are simply “trying to scare the people from drinking raw milk,” says Miller, who supports his legal battles with online fundraising. Miller is adamant that his products are more nutrient dense and tasty than pasteurized milk, in part because his cattle graze on green pastures in “God and nature.”

The health-conscious younger generation is especially supportive of Miller’s products, he says. “They’re looking for the real thing, real healing with nutrient-dense foods.” 

 The FDA stridently disputes health claims about raw milk products, such as improved asthma, allergies, lactose intolerance, gut health, and immune system. The FDA also disputes claims that pasteurization affects the taste of milk and milk products. 

Across the country, state laws on raw milk sales are as varied as a sampler quilt. Several sources provide a breakdown of state legislation, including the Raw Milk Finder and Britannica ProCon. Alabama bans raw milk sales to humans but not pets. Alaska has legalized the sale of raw milk and raw milk products, as  long as the producer has met regulatory requirements. Arizona is even more lenient, allowing retail sales. In Illinois, raw milk producers require two permits. In Kentucky, raw goat milk can be bought, but only with a physician’s recommendation. New York allows on-farm sales of raw milk. Three states Rhode Island, Nevada and Hawaii—have declared raw milk illegal. 

 Sally Fallon Morell is a Maryland raw milk producer with 25 cows who founded A Campaign For Real Milk in 1999. (Miller says that Morell inspired his father to become a producer himself in the early aughts.) Morell condemns the milk industry, saying that it has “demonized” small raw milk producers since the 1940s. Consumer pressure, however, is slowly overcoming this, and Morell says there are now more than 3,000 sources of raw milk in the country, up from 27 when she first began the campaign. These figures are supported by other unofficial raw milk sources such as Get Raw Milk. The eventual goal, says Morell, is to have “raw milk available in the stores for everybody.” 

Morell’s vision aligns with Miller’s, who is determined to flout prohibitions preventing him from selling raw milk and raw milk products such as cheeses, butter, yogurt, kefir, and colostrum to his 2,000-strong Miller’s Organic Farm Private Member Association. Miller refuses to obtain a Pennsylvania permit, as he says it would restrict him to raw milk and hard cheese sales only. State permits don’t allow sale of the many milk-related products Miller provides to his private customers, who pay a one-time fee of $35 to join his association. Miller doesn’t like what he considers a power imbalance between state and farmer that results from having a permit. “As soon as they [the government] find something out of order, they would pull your permit and you’d be stranded.” 

 Although there aren’t any immediate legal actions against Miller from the FDA or the state of Pennsylvania, the Amish farmer says that he anticipates further court battles this year. If necessary, Miller will risk jail to defend his right to sell raw milk products without government oversight. 

Miller likens the consumption of raw milk products to the constitutional right to bodily autonomy and the right to control one’s body. His customers, he says, are well informed about the food choices they are making. “They’ve educated themselves and want to make their own decisions. Why can’t this be possible?”

The post Got Raw Milk? appeared first on Modern Farmer.

In a span of less than 10 minutes, no fewer than five people open the doors of the bright yellow community fridge and pantry just outside the Medlock Park neighborhood in Decatur, Georgia. Most come here searching for fresh food and produce, or personal products such as toothpaste or diapers, donated by the community.

“I come here about three times a week,” says Anne. She depends on the food, especially fresh produce, to supplement her diet. “If it wasn’t for this fridge, I definitely wouldn’t get to eat as healthy as I do,” she says. “It’s amazing what people donate.” 

The community fridge, known as ATLFreeFridge, stands in front of North Decatur Presbyterian Church. The goal is to provide free food and help reduce food waste. It’s open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and anybody can take or donate food.

The ATLFreeFridge was one of six installed in 2020 as part of the volunteer initiative Free99Fridge started by former Atlantan and activist Latisha Springer. Her goal was to maintain community fridges and pantries across metro Atlanta to help combat food insecurity and waste. (Springer ran the program until she left Atlanta to pursue other opportunities.) Initially, all of the fridges were a success.

But unlike the fridge at the church, the others depended on local businesses such as coffee shops and breweries for their spaces and electricity. When Springer left the program, the fridge sponsors had to choose whether to keep their fridges or close them down. Only North Decatur Presbyterian Church chose to keep its fridge, renaming it ATLFreeFridge.

Today, volunteers install, clean and monitor the ATLFreeFridge. They donate the food, hygiene products and dry goods, and make sure no food is expired or goes bad. Most of the fresh food comes from the neighboring community, although a team of volunteers coordinate food pickups from local restaurants, farms, and grocery stores that also provide tons of fresh food.

“It was a new idea here when I first heard about it,” says Monique. “It was unusual because it was a mutual aid project instead of a non-profit. It was so smart and done with respect. There were no questions asked whether you were donating or coming for food.”

But neighbors in Medlock Park had a lot of questions early on. They expressed their concerns to the church and volunteer coordinators about things such as sanitation, people lingering at the fridge, and homeless encampments that began popping up. Most reservations, though, were about safety around the neighborhood. Those were exacerbated in 2022 after a man who appeared to be having a mental health crisis threw the contents of the fridge into the street, some at passing cars. 

That’s why, Nancy Gathany, a church member on the ATLFreeFridge executive committee, says the church doubled down to keep the fridge rather than close it. “I’m sure it was stressful for the other commercial businesses [hosting fridges] because they become magnets for unhoused people,” she says. “But it’s hard to ignore the needs of so many people coming to our fridge. It hits you in the face.” 

Co-pastor Rev. David Lewicki held a meeting in October 2022 to address community fears. They’ve since established rules for fridge shoppers, including new boundaries on the campus grounds, although there’s rarely a time without someone loitering around the fridge. The church also now enforces no overnight sleeping, but it still happens off church grounds on occasion. 

North Decatur Presbyterian now provides local resource information, including temporary housing, legal assistance, employment services, and child and pet care, to users and has designated parking spaces to address concerns about traffic.

Perhaps the biggest change is the church now has a dedicated case manager for anyone who needs assistance. He’s available once a week and sees about four clients on average, helping them get health care, housing, and employment. 

“The congregation is very supportive of the case manager,” says Gathany. “We are really trying to get the shoppers past their struggles.” Between August 2023 and March 2024, he had nearly 100 client meetings, Gathany says, and assisted several families get off the streets.

Of course, not all the shoppers at the fridge are homeless. Gathany says the fridge feeds more families who come in cars, but they have so many singles who come on foot, and are down on their luck. The 2020 poverty rate in Dekalb County for children aged 5-17 was 26.6 percent, much higher than the state average of 18.8 percent. That number improved to 18.6 percent in 2022 (the latest numbers available), but it’s still higher than the state average of 16.3 percent. And with poverty comes food insecurity, whether it’s because of lack of money, long waits for SNAP benefits, or a lack of transportation.

And, according to Feeding America, the number of food-insecure children in Dekalb County where the fridge is located hovered around 21 percent in 2022 (the latest numbers available), much higher than the county’s overall rate of 11.2 percent.

“What many don’t realize is that some of these people are coming from the neighborhood,” says Monique. “Sometimes, people are ashamed that they don’t have enough money for food. The fridge is one great place they can go for it.”

Still, some neighbors who support the fridge are still hesitant to do so. “Those who are gathering there are a deterrent to my donating,” says local Kern Thompson. “I can only assume that I’m not the only person who’s cut back donating because of their presence.” The fridge has become a hangout, of sorts, which can be both a good and bad thing when it comes to prospective donations. 

Medlock resident Monica Morgan says that’s one reason she consistently donates. “Every time I’ve been there, there’s such a need,” she explains. “There are people waiting—families—who are just down on their luck. But I’ve never felt uncomfortable dropping off food. All the people seem very grateful.”

Today, nearly four years to the day the fridge was first installed, there is still support for the ATLFreeFridge. 

But it’s not without controversy. During the writing of this piece, on July 9, the fridge was vandalized again. An unknown person cut the electrical wire, destroying the fridge and taking it out of commission for nearly a week until volunteers could find a new one. Gathany says she has no idea who did it or why, but that doesn’t change the demonstrated need.

“The fact that we even need this fridge shows us where our society is failing,” says Gathany. “Everybody is having a hard time, not just the homeless. There’s never going to be anything that 100 percent of the community supports. But the church is doing this because it’s the church’s business.” 

The post This Community Fridge is the Only One Left in Atlanta—and the Need is Growing appeared first on Modern Farmer.

That’s 17 million households experiencing food insecurity in a country that throws out more food than any other country in the world—120 billion pounds every year, equivalent to almost 40 percent of the entire US food supply. That’s 325 pounds of wasted food per person.

In other words, no one in the US should be going hungry. There is plenty of food to go around. It’s just a matter of getting it to hungry people before it gets to the dump to rot and, in the process, produces large quantities of methane that contributes an estimated eight percent to global carbon emissions. 

While we all wait (not holding our breath) for the government to creak into action, a network of community activists has emerged in small towns and huge cities alike to help get food to the people who most need it. Every community has different needs, and there is no one-size-fits-all solution, which makes this highly individualized approach more effective than many of the larger-scale, generic, government-sponsored options out there. 

Seacoast Fridge partners with local farms and food trucks

“A colleague told me about the growth of community fridges that offer free food to anyone who needs it, no questions asked,” says Whitney Blethen, recalling the early months of the pandemic, when it was becoming increasingly clear that people were getting hungrier and resources were getting leaner. “I work in a nonprofit that combats childhood hunger, and I’m married to a chef, so it felt like a natural outgrowth.”

Together with Katie Guay and Dave Vargas, Blethen founded the Seacoast Fridge in Kittery, Maine in 2021. 

“We discovered that the Good Samaritan Food Donation Act protects people operating free fridges, which made us feel like there was no risk and only benefits,” says Blethen. 

They reached out to the local rotary club so that they could “piggyback” on their general liability insurance, which covered a wide range of potential injuries or accidents that could occur when picking up or delivering food. Eventually, they partnered with Red’s Good Vibes, a free mobile food truck and nonprofit based in Portsmouth, N.H., which aligns with their mission and has expanded their reach.

“That has been a game changer,” says Blethen. “They already had a network of farms, and because we all have backgrounds in food safety and liability, we began labeling foods early on with ingredients and use-by dates to prevent any issues.” 

In the beginning, their one fridge would be emptied in about 72 hours. Now, they have plans for 24 fridges this year, with turnovers currently at up to four times per day per fridge. Their mission has grown along with the size of their operation, and it now includes 150 volunteers. They’ve also started food rescue programs with farms and restaurants, where “some farms allow CSA members to add $5 to their order. They use that to fund additional drop-offs for us.”

In addition to the fresh food, Seacoast offers seasonally appropriate pantry items, from sunblock and tick spray to socks and gloves. 

“We also work with our local Land Trust, and they have kids tending gardens,” says Blethen. “All of the food then gets donated to fridges or pantries. It’s great for everyone, including the kids.”

To learn more, donate or find a free fridge in Maine or New Hampshire, follow Seacoast on Instagram at @seacoastfridge. 

Sweet Tooth Community Fridge takes advantage of tax credits to pay farmers

“In Iowa, our legislature is hostile to poor people,” says Monika Owczarski. “With the city doing nothing substantial to fight poverty and our own situation, we knew we had to do something.”

Starting in 2016, Owczarski operated a pop-up food stand near her urban farm, Sweet Tooth Farm, in Des Moines. As soon as she could get authorized, she began accepting food stamps. During the pandemic, Owczarski saw a noticeable increase in need and a decrease in formal support. Then, in 2021, the city changed the rules about farming and Owczarski went from having more than an acre in production to having about three city blocks.

“We were left with one-tenth of the space, which meant we couldn’t produce enough for our restaurant clients and our weekly CSA,” says Owczarski. “Then, a soup kitchen near us got shut down.” That was the last straw for Owczarski. 

She reached out to other nonprofits, farmers and food organizations and began giving out free food to anyone who wanted it, no questions asked, with one fridge. It was the first fridge in the state. And it actually helps Owczarski pay the bills after her CSA and farming model got turned upside down.

“The [Farm to Food Donation Tax Credit] program pays farmers for the food they donate,” she explains, adding that they also get donations from restaurants, caterers and others with an excess of food that might otherwise get tossed in the landfill.

Now, the network has 16 fridges, but it is totally decentralized.

“In the last 30 days alone, we have rescued 200,000 pounds of food that would have otherwise been thrown out,” says Owczarski. “Every neighborhood’s needs are different, with some needing no pork for religious reasons and others needing more of one thing or another just because of the community they’re serving.”

The biggest challenge, says Owczarski, has been the climate. 

“We had to figure out a way to prevent the fridges from shorting out on days that are -40 degrees,” says Owczarski. “We insulate the fridges, build shelters and even have safe fireproof infrared heaters that turn on when the temperature gets below a certain threshold.”

To learn more, donate and find fridges around Des Moines, follow @sweetthoothfarmdscm on Instagram. 

Free Food Fridge looks to the nonprofit world 

Jammella Anderson founded Free Food Fridge Albany during the pandemic.

“Access to fresh foods and produce has been an issue for years in Albany and beyond because of structural racism and redlining,” says Anderson. “The pandemic made that worse for everyone, and people who were managing to get by before but were residing on an income cliff suddenly found themselves without options during the pandemic.”

If someone makes just $10 above the cutoff for receiving SNAP or other income-based benefits, they are out of luck, they explain. That means “a lot of people going hungry,” says Anderson. 

Seeing what was happening in Albany, the part-time doula and yoga instructor went into action, putting out a call to followers on Instagram and snagging a free fridge from Lowe’s and a location for their first fridge on Elm Street in Albany in the process. 

Free Food Fridge has grown considerably since 2020, and by the end of the summer, there will be 21 fridges around Albany. Donations roll in from individuals and farmers. Some contributions are regular, others are one-time only, some are in the form of food and others are in the form of money. 

“Our next phase is officially becoming a nonprofit because we are volunteer run and creating a mobile grocery that can shuttle around Albany, travel to all of our fridge locations and serve as a pop-up at farmers markets and food justice organizations,” says Anderson. 

They are also trying to change the way we discuss food access. 

“You can’t say that a hungry person looks like this or underserved communities look like that,” says Anderson. “We need to change that dialogue because, just like there isn’t one solution to hunger, there isn’t one type of hungry person or underserved community.”

To learn more, donate and find fridges in Albany, follow Free Food Fridge Albany on Instagram. 

RVA Community Fridge for Kids gathers on social media 

“I grew up with community fridges in New Orleans, but that wasn’t really done here,” says RVA Community Fridges founder Taylor Scott. “And I saw SNAP Benefits getting cut in Richmond, and all of these historically redlined areas without access to a grocery store or other resources, and I knew I had to do something.”

The project started small, as a literal overgrowth of tomatoes threatened to take over her apartment during the pandemic. She looked for a community fridge to which to donate her bounty, in the hopes that her fresh-grown produce could help provide fresh produce to underserved areas. 

But Scott couldn’t find any community fridges. She reached out to a neighborhood bakery in Church Hill and it agreed to host a fridge. It went up in January 2021. “As soon as we filled it, it would empty out,” says Scott. “Now, we have 14 fridges, and the entire community is involved. We have more than 300 volunteers helping us buy food and operate, not counting people who just drop stuff off at fridges.”

Scott communicates with the volunteers, farms, caterers and chefs who donate food that might otherwise go to the landfill through the communication platform Discord and the social media groups she has set up. Their fridges and the pantries with household goods attached sometimes empty out in as little as 30 minutes. 

“I love seeing how these fridges are bringing our community together,” says Scott. “Some neighborhoods are in absolute food deserts, and raising awareness among people in Richmond who wouldn’t otherwise realize what has been going on in these neighborhoods, while feeding people and fighting food waste, has been incredible.”

Scott says the group is in the process of applying to be an official nonprofit. To learn more, donate and find a fridge, follow RVA Community Fridges on Instagram. 

The post On the Ground With the Volunteers Running Community Fridges appeared first on Modern Farmer.

The selection has not only introduced Martinez to new ingredients, such as eggplant, but she’s learned to cook with them thanks to her children, who receive free classes through their school. “They make broccoli soup. They like cauliflower,” she says. “You don’t think of kids liking Brussels sprouts and these kids love them now.”

The pantry is just one location in Second Harvest Food Bank of Orange County’s network of nearly 300 distribution sites; the 41-year-old organization serves an average of 430,000 people per month who are experiencing food insecurity.

About three years ago, the southern California food bank added something novel to its system: a 40-acre farm. 

At Harvest Solutions Farm in Irvine, fresh produce is grown specifically to be distributed to Second Harvest’s partners such as the school pantry. Since its inception in August 2021, the property has produced more than five million pounds of nutritious food for the surrounding community.

“There is a symbolism in the fact that we are growing [locally] , that we are growing food right here that is going from farm to food bank to table in 48 to 72 hours,” says Second Harvest CEO Claudia Bonilla Keller. “Those that need the most help are getting some of the best food that we could ever hope to procure.”

Most food banks operate by gathering unwanted and donated food and distributing them to food pantries and other programs so the people who need the sustenance are able to access it. But those donations can be tenuous. Recently, inflation and supply chain issues have made it even more difficult to maintain operations—particularly at a level that addresses the rising need. 

Seventeen million US households experienced food insecurity at some point in 2022, according to the US Department of Agriculture, a number that grew as a result of the pandemic. 

Harvest Solutions Farm, which operates on University of California South Coast Research and Extension Center (REC) land, grows various crops throughout the year—from cabbage and broccoli to zucchini and watermelon—that is then harvested and driven two miles to the food bank’s warehouse, allowing the organization to quickly distribute the perishable goods throughout the county. 

It’s a symbiotic relationship. Second Harvest gains access to free land (the organization pays for water use and some equipment), and the soil health of UC’s otherwise unused plots is supported. Because the farm relies primarily on volunteers—an average of 170 per week—there’s also an educational component: The community has the chance to connect with farming and food in a way that shopping at a grocery store can’t offer. “People are losing touch with agriculture,” says Darren Haver, director of the REC system and interim director of South Coast REC. “This partnership allows a lot of volunteers that would have never set foot in an agricultural field to actually experience it and learn about it and have a greater understanding of that.” 

Volunteers, in turn, help make the project economically feasible. “The most innovative thing about it is the produce is affordable to a food bank, to us, because the labor is done by volunteers and that allows us to take [the food] in at prices that are competitive with the state co-op, (under 30 cents per pound on average, on par with the California Association of Food Banks),” says Keller. “It’s a relatively small part of our supply chain in all honesty, but it is one that we 100 percent control.”

The farm also reinforces Second Harvest’s mission to provide dignified access to food and nutritional security, which is not only making sure people like Martinez and her family have consistent access to food but ensuring that the fare is truly healthy. “It’s something that is not only going to feed your family but nourish your family,” says Keller.

Although Harvest Solutions isn’t the first of its kind (other farm-to-food-bank programs exist across the country, including at Seeds of Hope in Los Angeles, South Plains Food Bank in Texas and Golden Harvest Food Bank in Georgia), the scale of the farm is unique. And it’s something those involved think can be replicated elsewhere, particularly with strong partnerships in place.

“The model that we’ve had around the country and almost around the world is that our expired, rejected, quality-impacted foods are made available to food banks at discounted prices or for free and we pat ourselves on the back thinking that we’re addressing waste,” says A.G. Kawamura, the former secretary of the California Department of Food and Agriculture and chairman of the nonprofit Solutions for Urban Agriculture. Kawamura, a farmer himself, started other, smaller versions of Harvest Solutions and was integral in getting the project up and running. Within a season, he says, efforts like this one can “really attack the problem of hunger head-on and make such a big dent in it immediately.”

This matters to community members such as Martinez, who was homeless with her five kids for about two years. Some of the food banks she visited would give her canned food, for which she didn’t have the ability to open, eat or cook. She would return to the places that had fresh produce.

The family has been settled in an apartment for two years, and the school-based pantry has been incredibly beneficial to her, both for the convenience (it’s accessible year-round) and the quality and variety of the produce. Her kids sometimes walk straight to the kitchen to show her their latest cooking skills. The weekly box also allows her to stretch her budget to other necessities, such as proteins beyond chicken, which is what her budget limited her to before. “This program,” she says, “has helped me tremendously in a lot of ways.”

The post Spotlight On the Community Fridge and Pantry Growing Its Own Produce appeared first on Modern Farmer.