Community Kitchens by Darylynn Starr Rank

Picture it. A difficult change in circumstances, for an educated, socially conservative (rather than ‘politically’), sixty year old woman, forces her to move from the Middle East to Canada – pretty much on her own. And she never learned a word of English. But she loves to cook. 

She needs to meet people, to improve her English, to learn a whole raft of things about living in Canada. Someone suggests she might benefit from attending a community kitchen.

Now picture a nineteen year old from BC who’s been on the street since she was fifteen, and never been taken care of, really. She’s pretty much cut off from anyone who’s not living on the streets, but she’s working to get her life together –  with help from a variety of social services. 

One idea they gave her, once she was off the streets, straightened out, and in an apartment of her own, was that she learn how to cook so she can take care of herself now that she’s nineteen. Someone suggests she might benefit from attending a community kitchen.

The two women arrive at this most mysterious of locations – mysterious to them at least. A community kitchen?  What the heck is that?

What they encounter is a group of women, mostly women anyway, all ages, many races, several nationalities, from a myriad of differing environments, some with kids, with families, with friends and support, some without any of those.

Some of the people arrive with food, others arrive with nothing.

And they cook. Together. 

They plan the meals, arrange the tasks to suit what their good at or what they want to learn. And cook.

They slice and chop, puree and blend, mix and mash. Grill, roast, steam and bake. And they laugh a lot. 

Especially the sixty year old from the Middle East and the nineteen year old from the streets. The young woman can’t even figure out how to use a potato peeler. The older woman doesn’t have a clue what it’s called. 

So they teach each other. With words and grunts and sign language and the art of demonstration. And they laugh a lot.  At their mutual helplessness, at what they don’t know how to do, at how badly they do it – one burns the vegetables,  the other can’t pronounce them. 

Then they sit down at the dinner table with all the others, and eat and talk (or try to) and learn about each other and the community. And they laugh some more. And they become friends. 

Variations on this scene take place in community kitchens all over the lower mainland where people, especially newcomers, come together to cook.

Take care all.

Darylynn Starr Rank (psychologist/writer) works part-time for Family Services of Greater Vancouver as a group facilitator. Her articles appear bi-weekly in The Record (New Westminster) and the Richmond Review.

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