Ah, the festive season. A time for enriching family relationships, reconnecting with old, cherished school friends and stuffing your face with as many Quality Streets as possible. If you’re lucky, that is.
The twinkling highlight of the year for most is for some, the pinnacle of misery and a big, fat, lurid green reminder that everyone else in the entire world has got a significantly better deal in life than you have. As someone who lost their dad as a kid, Christmas time was just another opportunity for the global calendar to remind me of that gaping hole at my dinner table – and in my life, for that matter.
Despite the annual sadness, my small family and I have been able to claw together some pretty good christmas company and christmas dinner is made a darn sight easier by mum’s terrific Turkey. See, for most people, however sad, annoying or difficult things may be from one year to the next, you’ll usually have at least one person who can bail you out. A family member; a friend; a work colleague; a bank account; a microwave; somewhere to sleep. But what happens if you don’t have any of those things. Then what?
Megan Doherty came face to face with just this conundrum on her very first day of volunteering as a support worker at a YMCA homeless hostel in North London. After years of experience in the disability charity sphere, the young Londoner was sure she’d be relatively accustomed to the types of challenges she’d face with such a role. On the contrary, what ultimately faced Megan was a whole different kettle of fish.
“In the disability world, there’s no blame attached,” she says, “homelessness is very different.” Walking into a shelter that provides temporary accommodation for people living on the streets, Meg’s preconceptions were automatically squashed.
“I was imagining the homeless guys you see on the street. But going in, you see a bunch of guys sitting in a room and having fun, cracking some jokes – it’s really not what people think.” It wasn’t long into her placement before the Edinburgh University graduate grew comfortable in her once unfamiliar surroundings, whilst becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the illogical injustices of society.
“I grew up in a family where if I was really stuck, I could call my mum and say, can I borrow a few quid?” Meg says. “If I get evicted from my flat, I can go and stay with my mum who only lives down the road. I have so many options. It was strange for me, seeing that massive gap in privilege and opportunity.”
In theory, a secured place at a hostel is the first step on the path towards finding a suitable home, however Meg quickly learned that – in practice – things rarely run smoothly. A combination of aspiration starvation; staff shortages and a nonsensical benefits system that chucks a barrage of forms at you in order to secure a tenner (let alone a deposit) result in a reoccurring problem: people get stuck.
“Everyone talks about the ‘pathway’ when it comes to homelessness,” Meg tells me, “I was frustrated because I couldn’t ever see what this so-called ‘pathway’ was and how people were supposed to get there.” In simple terms, this mystical pathway relates to the steps beyond the homeless shelter for people who lose their home. The hope is, within a matter of months and with help from community support workers, these vulnerable people will have secured a job or figured out the benefits system enough to land themselves a deposit for rented accommodation. But with no skills, qualifications or friends/family spurring them on – not to mention the lingering trauma of a history of homelessness – breaking the vicious circle is often a long, thankless process.
Until, that is, Meg discovered the power of food.
Somewhere amongst the 60 minute football groups run by the hostel were classes that us NOT PLANT BASED girls are far much more likely to participate in. COOKING. “I went to one of the Caribbean cooking classes that one of the Jamaican guys who works at the hostel was running,” Meg tells me, “there was reggae blaring, everyone was dancing, the smells were amazing and I just thought; there’s got to be a way of using this.”
And she was right. The more she opened the kitchen, the more ‘clients’ poured in and out, bringing with them their mother’s, grandmother’s and personally perfected recipes with them, along with – most importantly – their passion. After pitching the idea to foodie colleague Fred, and eventually formulating a standup business plan, Meg recruited some hostel residents and set about planning her first Supper Club.
A year down the line and here I am, along with a collection of London’s most hipster-looking journalists, awaiting my first course, courtesy of the Fat Macy’s culinary team. Roast garlic and potato soup, served with parsley and capers – to be exact. Hosted in Clerkenwell’s Printworks Kitchen, Fat Macy’s have put on a festive furore. Three courses worth of christmas dinner-esq deliciousness, coupled with bottomless rosemary-infused gin & tonics. The soup is sprinkled with mini chunks of crispy potato which get rowdier when coupled with the saltiness of capers. Next up; turkey pie for the selfish meat-eaters (me); mushroom, watercress and chestnut pie for everyone else. My natural aversion to food described using the word ‘pie’ didn’t stand a chance – pastry was buttery and crisp; turkey was succulent and best of all – not swimming in all the usual gloop that gives meat pies a bad name. Oh and the veggies were good too; greens wilted and buttered for just the right amount of bite.
Now let’s talk about pudding. Unfortunately, fruit based desserts aren’t my usual choice of indulgence – especially if the fruit in question is one typically associated with cheese and/or jelly. HOWEVER. This quince-based (dw I googled it too, it’s kinda like a pear) dessert may have changed my pudding game forever. This Bakewell Tart-come-trifle was surprisingly pleasant; no overpowering sweetness; light and airy sponge and as for the quince… well, the picture below speaks for itself.
The supper clubs are almost exclusively staffed by those housed in temporary hostel accommodation, enrolled in the Fat Macy’s scheme designed to provide them – not only with a rented flat deposit – but also all-important skills for their CV. Staff can choose between front of house and kitchen roles, although they are encouraged to try their hand at both in order to expand their repertoire. It’s odd to consider that a year or so ago, many of the kind faces topping up my drink were living on the streets. Especially humbling given that most staff at trendy London restaurants could learn a thing or two from the standard of service at Fat Macy’s. Not to mention the quality of the food.
As the fifth (I think) G&T goes down the hatch, I’ve come over all sentimental about just how much can change in such a short space of time. A year and a half ago, food was a precious luxury for most of these people, whilst at the same time, I had all the food in the world pretty much thrown at me and yet was unable to eat any of it. There are undeniable similarities in the way my waiter and I both look at the food on the plate in front of me. Meg sums it up pretty well;
“When something’s taken away from you, it becomes even more valuable.”
We learnt about the magic of Fat Macy’s through the new REVL app. To see more of what NPB are up to, download REVL here http://revl.link/tyku3 and enter the code; REVLNOTPB
