I know my vegetables. I know each of them. Spend hours here each week on your hands and knees, and you will know what it means to commune with your food.
The meaning of America [street stall]
An urban hot dog stand: part livelihood, part miniature microcosm. America as seen through the eyes of a sausage-selling street preacher. An unexpected lesson in the art of being real.
Bounty [dinner table]
I’ve known these carrots all their lives. These tomatoes, too. Food like this should be a right, not a privilege: Food that doesn’t require a can or cardboard box to get from field to table.
Nourishment [dinner table]
After a day of motherly foibles and toddler chaos, the dinner table brings loose order. It slows the pace, offers nourishment of all kinds, and communicates, in tiny sequence, the important things.
Farm School [school]
Come to urban-farming school. Imagine a future where food actually comes from the ground–or, in this case, a gymnasium-sized greenhouse. Grab a shovel and come on in.
Food & Politics [kitchen]
Food is power. Food is political. And if it’s true that we are what we eat, I’d much rather be a vegetable garden than a factory farm.
