Canadian Food Studies / La Revue canadienne des études sur l'alimentation

“She had brought the meat home that she should have eaten herself, and was already warming it on a gridiron over the fire for her father, clad in an old grey gown and a black cap, awaiting his supper at the table. A clean cloth was spread before him, with knife, fork, and spoon, salt-cellar, pepper-box, glass, and pewter ale-pot. Such zests as his particular little phial of cayenne pepper and his pennyworth of pickles in a saucer, were not wanting.” - Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens, 1857

The “she” in this passage is Amy Dorrit. The table around which Amy, her father William Dorrit, and guest Arthur Clennam gather is perfectly ordinary. That it sits within the confines of the Marshalsea debtors’ prison makes it less so.

Readers might wonder how it all works. Who pays for the food that William and others eat? And who makes it? What is a typical meal? Are there restrictions in terms of the kinds of foods that can be brought in? What happens if no one from the outside is available or willing to provide food for the incarcerated individuals? How do they acquire all the accoutrements on the table? Dorrit’s table appears to have certain luxuries but does he, as the “Father of the Marshalsea,” have certain privileges that others don’t?

The editors and authors of this themed section turn their attention to food and carceral systems within a contemporary Canadian context. The four articles within unpack the complex realities of incarcerated individuals, for whom food can represent violence and punishment, as well as community building, empowerment, and dignity.

Not within the themed section, but certainly adjacent to it are Michnik et al., who turn their attention to other institutional kitchens as they investigate paths toward sustainable school food program development in Saskatchewan.

Next, a ghost story. Or more precisely, Charlotte Gagnon-Lewis’s examination of the Wolastoqiyik Wahsipekuk's green sea urchin fishery. We’ll leave it to Gagnon-Lewis to tell you who the ghosts are and how we might best interact with them. On a related note, Lowitt et al. share their key insights for building resilience across agriculture and fisheries.

In the intriguingly titled, “You want my money? Dance!,” Bryan Dale considers the role of consumers in “contributing to (or inhibiting) [a just] transition in the food system” (p.114). In their commentary, Wilkes et al. provide lessons from the Canadian Food Policy Advisory Council on how to strengthen democratic governance in times of crisis. In her found-object collage series, Milk & Bread, Susan Goldberg documents just such a time of crisis from the perspective of women and mothers “who bore the brunt of increased domestic duties and childcare during [COVID-related] lockdowns and school closures” (p.163).

For those of you with free space on your bookshelves—if not, try double stacking them or piling them artfully on the floor—Johanna Wilkes and Penelope Volinia review the following: Robin Wall Kimmerer’s The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World and Taras Grescoe’s The Lost Supper: Searching for the Future of Food in the Flavors of the Past.

We conclude this issue with our Choux Questionnaire—within which chef, activist, speaker, and author of Take Back the Tray: Revolutionizing Food in Hospitals, Schools, and Other Institutions, Joshna Maharaj, tells us about her greatest edible achievement. Some of us are hoping to wrangle an invitation to dinner at Joshna’s on the strength of this description alone: “I once made this roasted masala pork belly that I still think about in a quiet moment.”

We too wish you a quiet moment to think about pork belly and milk and green sea urchins and the myriad questions, challenges, and solutions offered up by our authors

Bonne degustation.

Cover image by Paterson Hodgson