There are three things everybody needs to succeed: education, love and food. There are of course other things that make our lives more comfortable, and sometimes feel as if they are essential. But education, love and food are the three things that nourish us. That help us become stronger and grow as people. If any of these three things are lacking, then we will begin to weaken. Community is our greatest source of strength, when those around us show their care through small actions every day. There are times, however, when we find ourselves at the fringes of society - left wanting for education, love or food. Often unsure that we are in need of something and uncertain what to do about it. I have only recently moved to this city and I am not ashamed to say, I have found myself at times quite lonely. I realised something needed to be done, so signed up for my first shift with Everybody Eats.
Everybody Eats is a koha food enterprise started by Nick Loosly in Auckland back in 2017 with a mission to “feed bellies not bins”. I first heard of Everybody Eats during Welly on a Plate this year, with a line up of established Wellington chefs like Conor McDonald taking over the hots each week in a ‘Next Gen Cookoff’. It seems, like all the best ideas, remarkably simple. They take as much surplus produce as they can from a range of suppliers, and turn it into restaurant quality three course meals for the whole community. Guests are invited to pay what they want by privately tapping digits into the card machine or slipping something in a cash box, meaning those with the means can pay enough to support other diners.
In another life I used to work with the Hare Krishna in London, helping provide meals to those in need. Each week I would descend into the basement kitchen below their Soho temple and stir ginormous pots of dhal, chop forests worth of salads and brew sweet, spicy chai. All this before loading it into a van and driving across town, serving onto disposable plates from a wonky trestle table in a dimly lit Russel Square. Walking up the stairs into Everybody Eats’ current home in Dixon Street on a warm Monday evening, this is a different beast. We aren’t talking soup kitchen here. The room is a dining room, in every single meaningful way. An actual restaurant.
I nervously pop my head into the kitchen and I am immediately met by the beaming smile of the full time chef. She greets every single person that walks in like they have just saved the day and it really does the job. Any creeping thoughts that this might be overwhelming or too challenging immediately fade as she introduces me to the team of people already busily working away. Everyone is here. You have an artist who is on their 131st shift, deftly plating citrus cake with marmalade glazed grapes and a mandarin sauce. A father and his nine year old daughter are seasoning the shaved asparagus salad before mixing with a citrus dressing. An actual chef from an actually brilliant Wellington restaurant is by the stove, blanching and charring an obscene amount of discarded asparagus for the entree. You have even got a doctor from East London, with his extra thick apron on, elbow deep in hot water washing pots at lightning pace. I think at one point I count over 20 people, front and back of house, giving up their time on a Monday evening to be a part of it all.
At 5:45 Chef scrawls the plan for the evening on the stainless steel kitchen counter and we are all assigned jobs. I am on mains with a researcher from Wellington and the father-daughter team. It will be our job to plate burgers to order when called by another volunteer on his first time at the pass - a tall, warm man who maintains a calm steady control of the night. The servers approach the pass and put in their orders for the first lot of entrees: a dish of charred asparagus with romesco sauce, fresh basil and sourdough breadcrumbs. The kind of plate spring was made for. It is minutes after these have been sent that we are called into action. Steamed buns are dressed with a fresh green sauce before being piled high with either homemade beef or vegan mushroom patty, bbq sauce and homemade broccoli stem pickles. This is then handed to the father-daughter team who generously heap bundles of their ribboned asparagus and iceberg lettuce salad on the side of the bowl. All this before one last clean of the plate and onto the pass. The evening goes on like this at a reasonable pace, orders being called out and us building the plates as a team. Sometimes eight orders come in at once and it feels exciting, but always manageable and always fun. We go on plating and passing dishes down the line. All the while sharing stories of how we came to be here, laughing and pinching marmalade glazed grapes from the tub beside us.
As the tide slows around 8pm, and we have fed nearly 170 people a three course meal, we are invited to take some food and sit in the dining room. The doctor on pot-wash moved here recently, and actually grew up only a short train ride from where I lived in London. Another lives just around the corner from me and we both love the sea; he too has visited where I am from in London. One of the front of house volunteers teaches me about the traditional Samoan tatau on her hand and its significance. We all sit and talk, eating the charred asparagus and romesco, and the world begins to feel a bit smaller and more comfortable.
I have signed up to do it again and I will try to do this at least once every week. Meeting and working with a group of people I might never have otherwise met nourished me. This is more than just using up waste and feeding bellies; it is about providing community to those who are otherwise in need. It is about the people being fed and it is about the people feeding them. It is company for those who live alone and can’t face preparing and eating another meal on their own; an evening out in a busy room. It is people from every walk of life, sitting side by side at tables as equals, standing side by side as they serve proper food. All of them receiving three things: education, love and food.
Click the link below to get involved yourself!
Thanks for sharing about Everybody Eats - it’s like Wellington’s best kept secret. You only need to go once though and you’re hooked.