By Jeff Nield (photo by Jenn Pentland)

Invariably, at this time of year, when the cold wet hand of winter begins to tighten its grip on southwest BC, I kick myself for not taking the time to preserve much of the harvest from the summer and autumn. I do have two whole salmon, three small Ziploc bags of blanched greens squeezed into little frozen balls, and one solid cube of veggie stock stashed in my deep freeze. But I have canned no tomatoes, no peaches, no plums, and no pears.

I have not made one batch of pesto, or hung one sprig of any herb from the rafters to dry. I have store-bought jam in the fridge and only brandname salsa in the pantry. In short, Iʼm wholly unprepared for a winter of enjoying local food.

But thatʼs not how it has always been. About thirty years ago you could find brandname packages like Nabob, Kraft, and Lipton on local store shelves—with local products inside. (Granted, many of the products processed here were shipped to faroff lands and others were shipped back.) “Prior to 20 years ago we were a branch plant,” says Margaret Daskis, referring to the collective community of processors in the Fraser Valley. Daskis, president of Fresh Ideas & Solutions Inc., a consulting and product development company, points to a golden age of processing in BC. “There were a lot of companies with a lot invested in our region. The late 70s were quite vibrant. There was a markets branch of the Ministry of Agriculture, which included lots of extension workers who laid the groundwork for the industry.”

Those extension workers would visit farmersʼ fields and help them produce crops that could be processed into value-added products. But when the economic winds shifted, so did government priorities. “In ʼ81, when interest rates were high, the government said ʻLetʼs get rid of the public sector,ʼ and they slashed.” But it wasnʼt just the government that fuelled the change. The processing companies started getting swallowed up by multinationals that, by the mid-90s, were building super-plants to increase efficiency and shutting down smaller regional operations. “The problem was that it diminished variety, innovation, and competitiveness,” explains Daskis.

There are even bigger problems looming with the loss of local processing. “If you donʼt have processing close, you canʼt have a strong ag industry,” says Daskis. She explains how the recent decision by Snowcrest packers to shut down their processing operation in the Fraser Valley has left 5,000 acres of vegetables with nowhere to be processed. “Itʼs like a spiderweb; if you take out a part of it, it collapses.” Daskis considers us lucky for having the Agricultural Land Reserve; without it, all of our agricultural land would have been ripe for development when the processors jumped ship.

Luckily, change is a-cominʼ. “Weʼve been contemplating tomato processing for five years,” says Kim Frederiksen, owner of Vancouver-based distributor Biovia. Dressed in loose black yoga pants and black fleece, ready for a multitude of tasks needing attention at her bustling business, Frederiksen is visibly excited about the new product sheʼs about to launch. “Thereʼs nothing on the market.” She refers to the dearth of local canned tomatoes stocked by Vancouver area retailers. If all goes according to plan, by the time this article goes to print, local shoppers will be snapping up 398ml (14oz) cans of Biozona brand organic diced romas and organic diced yellow heirloom tomatoes. (Yes, you read that right: local canned heirloom tomatoes!) All of the tomatoes are grown in Oliver at Covert Farms, and processed in co-operation with local organic baby-food maker BOBO Baby.

While pouring the result of an early test batch into a bowl (Frederiksen proclaims it too watery), she recalls how she felt when she first set out to create the Biozona product line. “Iʼve canned tomatoes at home, and I thought ʻthis is going to be easy.ʼ But on a large scale things are much more difficult. The variables are different.”

Amongst other things, she had to get up to speed on tomato water and acid content; a low-acid tomato loses colour in the can. She had to source equipment from Japan and safety-test the product—none of which the home canner needs to worry about.

Daskis, who has over 25 years of experience in the industry, is cautiously optimistic about Frederiksenʼs venture. “Sheʼs really going to have to work at it. How is she keeping the facility going the rest of the year? You have to build a combination of processing or it cannot be economically viable.”

Despite the pitfalls, Frederiksen is one of a growing number of small- and mediumscale BC food processors who are filling the gap left by the industrial processing exodus of the past 30 years. Their motivation is to build economically, socially, and environmentally sustainable systems anchored by quality. “What happens to the No. 2 tomatoes?” asks Frederiksen. “The farmer still picks those tomatoes off the vine.” And while she acknowledges the benefit of composting some of the culls to be put back into the soil, Frederiksen is correct when she says those tomatoes are “food thatʼs essentially not being utilized.” One of the hidden travesties of our food system is that over 50 percent of the food we grow is wasted. Small-scale local processing is one way to lower that number.

A group has banded together to create the Small Scale Food Processors Association, which offers workshops on food processing and helps members market their unique products through the BC Specialty Food Directory. The directory lists everything from pickles and pancakes to granola and garlic jelly. Once my depressingly meagre harvest stash is exhausted, probably by the time you read this, Iʼll be overjoyed that others had the foresight and expertise to preserve the local taste of summer. Cʼmon winter, Iʼm ready for ya.

Jeff Nield works with FarmFolk/CityFolk and sits on the Vancouver Food Policy Council. He will gladly accept gifts of local preserves throughout the winter. www.farmfolkcityfolk.ca