Once we were starving for connection. We crammed tables together as tightly as possible, and paid unfair wages to work long and difficult hours. A culture of abuse was baked into the very system, divides between front-of-house and back-of-house was rampant and exploitative. Our mass-produced food from factory farms and pesticide-covered fields disconnected us from our food web and the seasons. Not everyone was welcomed to eat with us. Children were expected to be silent or stare at a screen if they came at all.
We were hungry in more than one way.
So we rebuilt our halls to become more than just places to eat. We included lower tables, power doors, gently sloping ramps, restrooms with adult changing tables, space to accommodate service animals, sensory-sensitive rooms with lowered lights and volume, elevators, and menus in braille. Many were open 24/7 as we reclaimed third spaces for those who operated outside of typical daytime hours. Children were welcomed to eat with us again, with smaller furniture and outdoor spaces for them to play and expend energy and self-entertain.
Food became much more localized and seasonal, we built relationships with local farmers and rooftop gardens. No longer did we waste food at the end of a shift, but a community pantry ensured that everybody had enough to eat.
Cooking classes and mentorship programs welcomed people back into the kitchen and taught culinary skills to anyone who wanted to try. Cultural flavors were peppered in, as elders taught their grandchildren family recipes that were shared with the neighborhood.
We fed each other with nourishing food, conversation and community again.
Come and eat! We saved you a place.