By Debbra Mikaelsen

As Edible Vancouver's fourth year comes to a close, this seems as good a time as any to tell you a bit about us, and the thinking that goes on behind these pages. Launching a print magazine in 2008 was admittedly a crazy thing to do, and we didn’t choose this path because it seemed like an easy way to make a living. We did it because once we found out about the family of Edible magazines, it wasn’t possible to walk away without starting one of our own.

To be clear, we (Philip Solman and Debbra Mikaelsen) didn’t start this magazine because we felt we were members of the food elite who should be telling other people how to cook. Actually, one of us came rather late to cooking and gardening; the other is still successfully avoiding both. (However, he does know how to shop for wicked groceries, grate cheese like nobody’s business, open the wine, and provide entertainment for the cook, who, I must stress, is not a chef.) We didn’t launch Edible Vancouver because we wanted to get invited to a lot of swish parties with copious quantities of caviar, truffles, and foie gras, or to receive a constant stream of review-copy celebrity cookbooks.

The reason we dove into this crazy business was that we saw the food system breaking down in so many ways, and Edible Communities’ publications were genuinely passionate about rebuilding it.

What do I mean by breaking down?

WE ARE DISCONNECTED FROM FOOD—WHERE IT COMES FROM, AND HOW TO ENJOY IT.

With fresh strawberries and asparagus available in supermarkets year-round, we have lost the pleasure of seasonal eating. Many of us no longer have that basic understanding of where food grows, how it grows, and when it grows. Our misplaced priorities are threatening food’s biodiversity; on the rare occasions when I find myself in those same supermarkets, I’m dismayed to notice hundreds of hair-care products, but only one variety of garlic. In America, 19 per cent of meals are eaten in a car—instead of around a table, and with other people and conversation. (The Canadian statistic isn’t available, but we have no reason to think it’s lower.)

People seem afraid of butter, bread, and salt—our culture is ridden with food guilt— and we’ve lost much of the pleasure in eating (maybe because of all those meals eaten in cars). We shouldn’t fear real food; if anything, we should fear those polysyllabic, cryptic words on food labels. We hear people say things that just make us sad: “Frozen grapes are less fattening because you eat them more slowly.” Why would anyone worry about grapes making them fat?

WE HAVE LOST SKILLS

Over and over again we hear that people have stopped cooking; parents no longer have the time, so children don’t learn by watching them. Ditto for gardening and preserving.

WE ARE LOSING FARMLAND AND FARMERS

The average age of a farmer in BC is 57 years old (as of 2007), and few young people have the desire—or the means—to start farming. Farmland throughout this province is disappearing. Instead of food, strip malls and real-estate developments are growing on some of the most fertile, nutrient-rich soil in the world.

THE NORTH AMERICAN DIET IS MAKING US SICK

Obesity rates for children have doubled in recent years, and related diseases are on the rise. Many people in the developing world have healthier diets than we do.

I could go on about examples of factory farms, industrial-meat recalls, and overfished oceans, but instead let’s look at the brighter side:

When we went to house parties, we were drawn into riveting conversations with friends—regular citizens waxing enthusiastic over heirloom apple varieties, ways to cook gai lan, breakfast radishes purchased at the farmers’ market, pierogi nights at the Ukrainian Orthodox Church.

Digging a little deeper, we sought out more of these connections to real food. We wrote about a dentist who was growing tomatoes in his office window, and an urban farmer who farms the rooftop patio of a Yaletown high-rise. In the Okanagan, we visited a biodynamic winery that practises dry farming, and uses rescued horses to cultivate the vineyards. We learned about programs that teach elementary school kids how to grow food and then cook it. Even better, these eight- and nine-year-olds were going home to teach their parents the new skills. And we did a feature about a local organization that rescues food, reducing food wastage and feeding hungry people.

Clearly, there were a lot of good stories to tell. Despite a broken food system, there was much to celebrate, and we felt that it was important to start sharing those stories. And we envisioned a magazine that would feel like a dinner party itself, where the conversation was inclusive—and all about food. Real food. So sure, occasionally the talk would turn to an exciting new restaurant discovery. But sometimes it would be about fair-trade bananas, how to make dolmades from the grapevines in your garden, heritage poultry breeds, or ways to grow more food in small urban spaces.

Since starting the magazine, we have seen a noticeable increase in farmers’ markets and community gardens, and have applauded the inception of a school for new farmers in Richmond. It is our belief that small steps—growing food, cooking food, caring about food, and reclaiming food—will gradually lead us back to a better way of eating and a better way of living. We are so pleased that we decided to do this crazy thing back in 2008, and so very glad that you have joined us at the table. Our hearts are full.

Debbra Mikaelsen and Philip Solman live in Vancouver with a cat and an obsession called Edible Vancouver. They stumbled across Edible Toronto magazine in 2007, and from there discovered Edible Communities, a family of 60+ locally owned and operated magazines that celebrate local foods, season by season.