“He’s such a saucy minx,” one of my tablemates said. We all laughed out loud at the punny double entendre, a reference to Chef Jack’s brilliance with sauces — it’s possible some of our laughter was induced by the sheer delirium of experiencing really, really good food.
I dined at One Straw Society’s first Farm-to-Table dinner of the season — pure magic under open skies, chefs working their craft in tandem, a cacophony of conversation and reverence, surrounded by gardens fragrant and alive around us.
I’m someone who often experiences the world in 4K, and on an evening like this, I felt grateful for that. Every detail, every colour, every interaction felt amplified. I could have experienced the entire dinner in silence, taking in each bit of sensory magnificence as though the whole thing were unfolding in slow motion.
That said, I was joined by a dear friend — someone I can always count on for meaningful conversation — and the dinner conversation was the perfect accompaniment to the bountiful feast.
Also. Sweetgrass ice cream. I could cry right now just thinking about the memory of it. My not mentioning every single dish is simply a matter of word count.
The night before the event, I humbly admitted to myself: I wasn’t entirely sure what One Straw does. Like someone who crammed for an exam the night before, I could bluff a high-level description, but if pressed for details… I’d have nothing.
So I did what any of us might: I went to their website.
If dinner is the blossom — a vivid, evening-long flourish — other arms of One Straw’s work are the seed bank: their policy and research efforts safeguarding supply chains and supporting local farms, ensuring that growers across the Coast can keep farming season after season.
Their pillar of education and engagement is the sowing of seeds — spreading ideas and knowledge that help the whole system flourish.
The entire system bears the fruit of its programs, which provide immediate nourishment and benefit. One such program is the Foodbox Program. Sales from full-price boxes prepay farmers early in the season, helping them plan, scale, and keep farming sustainably. Patrons receive a bin of fresh, local produce each week. A portion of boxes are subsidized — partially or fully — to make sure fresh, local food is within reach for everyone, no matter their circumstances.
Real talk? There are currently 127 people on the waitlist for subsidized food and $650 would pay for a box for the season for someone. If you believe in the energy of money, know that a gift to One Straw doesn’t just grow food — it helps nourish people, families, and the community we share.
After delving deeper, I’m excited to taste some of the fruit. Who is with me? Here are a few ripe ones:
Preserving for Beginners: Intro to Home Canning. July 23, 6 to 8 p.m. I’m sadly out of town for this one, but I’ll 100 per cent attend a future class if they offer it again. And on Aug. 27, they’re hosting Intro to Fermentation.
Tool Library Orientations. Offered regularly. Learn how to borrow tools (and actually know how to use them). Because, let’s be real, sometimes you don’t need to own an auger — you just need to borrow one once. This is 100 per cent on my to-do list.
Community Commissary Kitchen. Brand new and gardenside at One Tiny Farm. Think stone grain mills, freeze dryers, tin canning machines — the works. It’s not just about preserving food; it’s a space for learning, launching small food businesses, tackling food waste, and bringing neighbours together.
Want to join a dinner and contribute? Enter the raffle, One Straw’s current fundraiser. The prize is two tickets to a long table dinner of your choice. Enter here: onestraw.ca/bigtable
Okay, but seriously. Back to that sauce. It came with cabbage, grown by Mel and Hannah sitting to my right. Fun fact? Chef Jack hadn’t planned on cabbage. He’d asked for zucchini. The farmers, considering what was in abundance, replied, “How about cabbage?” To me, that’s brilliance — and a bit of the essence of it all. It’s not about forcing the perfect picture of what you wanted, but about working with what you have, and still creating something absolutely extraordinary.
A final sparkle on the evening was what was happening behind us the whole time: chefs creating in unison, which apparently isn’t always how it goes. They collaborated on dishes, finished each other’s plates. Much like how meditators discover the interconnectedness of all things — not through force, but as something revealed through steady practice — being in the orbit of One Straw seems to foster an organic sense of connection. Said another way: you simply can’t help but feel part of something larger. And act accordingly.
