families, seniors, veterans, the disabled, immigrants and refugees, and those living in Maine’s northern-most and far-flung communities. Food access is a dauntingly complex issue, from farm to factory to fork (and landfill), with far-reaching social, cultural, economic, and ecological implications. The system is broken, and almost everyone agrees that poverty is at the dysfunction’s root. There is no single solution, says Mark Winne, a longtime community food activist and policy guru who spoke recently at a lecture hosted by University of Southern Maine’s new Food Studies Program— though he’d start with raising the minimum wage. “Many [food access] programs are Band-Aids that are helping mitigate larger structural problems,” says Shannon Grimes of Maine Farmland Trust, though there is hope and evidence that some programs are having a deeper impact. For lasting systemic change, there must be innovative intervention at every link in the chain.
Hundreds—some estimate thousands—of organizations work to improve food access in Maine. Their efforts are varied and promising, from permaculture experiments such as the Alan Day Community Garden “food forest” in Norway, an eventually self-sustaining edible ecosystem, to 32 winter farmers’ markets making cold-hardy produce like spinach, chard, radishes, and candy-sweet carrots available year-round. There are rooftop gardens and thriving co-ops, food hubs bringing small farms into wholesale and institutional markets, and initiatives to increase production and consumption of locally grown food. And if activists at one end of the chain are figuring out how to get healthy, locally grown food to market, there are those on the other end working tirelessly— and creatively—to get it from market to table. •••
Previous Page A happy customer purchases Hakurei turnips from Fresh Start Farms at a Good Food Bus stop in Westbrook. Eggplant has been another hit in the neighborhood, which is home to many Iraqi immigrants. Above Teenage members of Cultivating Community’s Culinary Crew prepare to deliver meals to recipients of the organization’s Eldershare program. Members of the Culinary Crew, many of whom have benefited from food access programs themselves, deliver meals to residents of Portland’s East Bayside neighborhood. Students in the program learn how to harvest, cook, and preserve local foods, some of which are grown in Cultivating Community gardens. They also gain valuable job skills and a better understanding of sustainable food systems.
Program (SNAP, formerly “food stamps”). One of her coworkers today is Athani, a Deering senior. As the two wait for the elevator, the girls look out over the city, toward the oil tanks of South Portland. Across the river, they spy a high-rise similar to the one whose floors we’re slowly ascending and imagine, correctly, that it’s also subsidized housing. Athani, in a pea-green raincoat and long, flowing skirt, looks pensive. “Who brings food to them?” she asks. •••
One in six Mainers—one in four Maine children— lacks reliable access to adequate food. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Maine is the seventh-most food-insecure state in the nation, a slide from last year’s ninth-worst ranking. As other states see improvement, Maine’s hunger gap is growing, says Chris Hastedt, public policy director at Maine Equal Justice Partners, a legal 31
aid and advocacy group working for low-income Mainers. “We’re heading in the wrong direction.” In 2016, 14% of Maine residents received SNAP benefits—down from previous years thanks in part to economic recovery but also due to toughening of eligibility requirements. (In 2015, Governor Paul LePage removed waivers on the time limit, asset test, and work or volunteer requirements; the waivers are used by most other eligible states.) Yet even those who receive SNAP (the average benefit is approximately $1.40 per person per meal) have trouble consistently accessing nutritious food. As a result, hunger relief charities originally intended as stopgaps have become a regular fixture in many Mainers’ lives. Good Shepherd Food Bank now partners with more than 300 food pantries across the state, while Preble Street, in Portland, serves 500,000 meals a year at eight soup kitchens. At risk are people young and old, black and white, rural and urban—mostly low-income
