Cooking For A Cause

Clare Yue and I pull up to a small building in a corner of Soquel, home to The Teen Kitchen Project, a volunteer-based service that prepares meals for those suffering from debilitating illnesses, especially cancer.

It is the day before Christmas and all four working stations are fully occupied by teenagers and a sprinkle of adults, including a couple with two young sons. Recipes are taped to the sides of the stations, some displayed next to the finished product, framed by scattered ingredients.

“If you come earlier,”says Yue, a senior, gesturing towards the rows of recipes, “you can pick whichever recipes you like.” Next to trays of miniature, carved-out pumpkins, three girls plunge their hands into a massive bowl of stuffing that will eventually be baked inside the tiny squashes. Off to the right, people sift through silver racks of ingredients, stacked almost to the ceiling. To the left people stir pots atop massive burners, periodically tasting. Others farther off to the right place trays of cookies into gaping ovens. The room is abuzz with clanging dishes and chatter; clouds of spiced vapor drift through the room.

Most participants today are regular volunteers, but Yue is one of the oldest members of the program.

“I’ve been with them since the beginning, she says, leaning against a shelf, for about a year and a half.” The Teen Kitchen Project was started in September of 2012 by Angela Farley, Cindy Estrada, Kimber Ashley, Lara Kilpatrick, and Stephanie Forbes. “Farley learned of a non-profit in Sebastapol, The Ceres Project, that served meals to people who were in crisis due to a life-threatening illness,” says Ashley, “and [she] was inspired to do it here in Santa Cruz after her son Charlie had gone into remission from a rare childhood lung cancer.”After Charlie’s, treatment, Farley wanted to help other families going through similar hardships by offering nourishing, delicious food, and [lessening] the isolation they may feel when in treatment by connecting them with their community,” according to the Teen Kitchen Project’s website. She spent a week training at Ceres Community Project, which delivers nutritious meals to the seriously ill in Sebastopol, to learn how to build her program.

“All of us, but Lara, knew each other from a local school community,” says Ashley. “Angela approached each one of us asking if we wanted to get involved, and we all wanted in. We, including the teen team, prepared our first cook on Sept 11, 2012, and we’ve been cooking ever since.” The Teen Kitchen Project has served over 9,800 meals and given teens around Santa Cruz the opportunity to provide over 1,000 hours of service in the kitchen.

“You can make these,” says Farley, one of the founders, as she gestures to a laminated recipe. “It doesn’t involve knives. I forgot my permission forms, so the head chefs are afraid I may hold them liable if I accidently chop off a finger mincing tomatoes. The recipe is titled Triple Ginger Snap Cookies. Scanning it, I feel confident I can complete this recipe unscathed, despite the obstacle posed by boiling molasses and coconut sugar. “Once you pick your recipe,”Yue taps the laminated card, “you just go get your ingredients and cook it.”

Yue leads me over to the only clear space, conveniently next to the gargantuan pantry. A din of beeping and giggling drifts from the other side of the room where two girls take out chocolate cookies from an oven. The air radiates heat as the two girls smack their hands together in triumph. Yue’s face cracks into a wide grin. “I just love cooking, she exclaims. “Like in here you not only learn cooking, but also the food science, and the chefs are very knowledgeable.” The Teen Kitchen Project cooks every Tuesday from 3:30 to 7:30, preparing two main dishes, two salads, a dessert and a snack.

Clients appreciate the work. Lou Larwood has been a client since late December of last year.

“It’s amazing what they’re doing for the community,” she says enthusiastically, and then, in a more solemn tone, “when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I always had [the Teen Kitchen Project] at the back of my mind [since] I knew I was going to need major surgery.” Larwood heard of the Teen Kitchen Project from her doctor and volunteers at the Katz Cancer Resource Center at Dominican Hospital, a center that provides support to cancer patients during their treatment free of charge.

“The Teen Kitchen Project really does their homework,” says Larwood. “They make sure you eat the right foods for white and red blood cell counts along with vitamins and minerals.” The staff tailors the food based on what type of cancer the client deals with. For instance, Larwood can’t have sugars because that’s what her cancer feeds off, so all of her food must be dairy free as lactose is a sugar. Despite these restrictions, however, clients still love the meals. “I’ve actually called and asked for the recipes before,” states Larwood.

Forbes, one of the cofounders, studied holistic nutrition and ensures the food is formulated for cancer patients.

“We don’t have anything like this in Santa Cruz,” Farley told the Santa Cruz Sentinel in 2012. “It seemed like a good way to connect with people who are ill.” But the chefs also make food specifically for other dietary needs. As Yue and I shift through the disorganized pantry (everyone but me seems to know where everything is), I notice gluten free cake mixes, rice and potato flours, and sugar substitutes. Yue explains that everything made here is tailored to different families’ dietary needs, which includes making gluten-free, dairy-free, or sugar-free foods with substitute ingredients. Mixes are sometimes used, but most everything is made from scratch, including the meat and vegetable broths.

Special attention is given to the quality of the ingredients, which often come from nearby farms such as Live Earth Farm and Lakeside Organic Garden.

“Everything is organic,”Yue explains, “and lots is donated by Whole Foods, Shopper’s Corner, or some other local place.” She flourishes her whisk as she begins mixing the dry ingredients in a large metal bowl. I stir butter, sugar, molasses, and spices in a pot.

Yue follows as I carry the pot of sugar and spice to the stove, passing rows of neatly stuffed pumpkins and dark brown mounds of cookies sprinkled with powdered sugar. She flips on the burner and instructs me to stir until the mixture boils. After ten minutes, I get the satisfaction of pouring the boiled concoction into a bowl; then we wait for it to cool before adding the eggs.

I never got to see the finished Triple Ginger Snap cookies, however, since the dough had to be refrigerated for several hours before baking, and Yue had to get home to create recipes for her own Christmas dinner. But before we left, we packaged the little pumpkins and stuffing into color-coded tupperware, one pumpkin per person, while two girls across from us packaged the desserts. When all containers were sealed and stacked we labeled the meals with printed stickers of the client’s name and number of meals they were receiving.

After the food is packed, it is taken to people like Larwood. Each client is assigned someone to bring them their food each week, usually four to six containers per person, which lasts for a few days. A volunteer named Becky delivers the food to Larwood, who she has built a connection with. Like other clients, Larwood leaves out an ice box for the food to be dropped off in with the cleaned containers from the prior week stacked next to it. Sometimes, though, Larwood will chat with Becky, or find flowers on her doorstep with the meals.

Yue and I leave with Christmas gifts of Starbucks gift cards, a gesture of appreciation from the staff. “Teens need to connect with their community and feel like they’re making a difference,” Farley says. “I remember when I was a teen, I felt very disconnected with my purpose.”

I smile as I grip the small, metallic, Christmas embellished envelope. “Thanks for cooking with us today,” says Farley, smiling. “I hope to see you again.”

I wave my unoccupied hand as I back out the door, into the plain, city air and out of the savory aroma of the kitchen. “I’ll definitely be back,” I call just before the glass door swings shut.