They could cook. Food was going to waste. There were people in need. They threw all that into the pot and came up with a charity providing hot meals to some of the most desperate people in the city. It’s good food. Of course it is. Some of the most talented chefs in the world work in Edinburgh’s kitchens.
They give out nutritious, tasty grub.They feed anyone, no questions asked. Oh, I’ve heard the usual snippy carpers. People might be getting fed who don’t deserve it.
Well, there might have been one or two, although I struggle to understand why someone would go to the effort to obtain buckshee carrot and coriander soup by deception.
Can’t quite remember the last time some rattlin’ wee Kirkgate creature stopped me and asked if I wanted to score a bowl of Scottish salmon, glazed in butter, with paprika, pink peppercorns, chillies and garlic. If anyone does want to hit me up, I’m heading out soon. I’m wearing a red anorak.
Empty Kitchens is powered by its volunteer force. Volunteering is a two-way street. A young man I know joined the charity last year. He is a shy, kind soul with a good heart.
He’s thinking of a career in catering now, thanks to the great people there. I know a lot about this lad. He’s my son. Empty Kitchens has given him confidence, mainly to endlessly criticise my kitchen skills. He has a point, since I regard making toast as a challenge.
Restrictions are lifting. Something like normal life is on the horizon. This is a good thing. Those talented creators of top-quality scran are going back to doing what they do best, which is feeding me and my pals in luxurious surroundings.
But it also means that EKFH are losing those volunteers who filled the pots, the pans and the bellies of some of the most needy. The end of the pandemic doesn’t mean the end of poverty.
If you’ve got time, could you help?