The Edible Schoolyard, Boulette’s Larder

This morning, I met my Aunt for lunch in the ferry building at Boulette’s Larder. The exposed kitchen is composed of a large island and hood, from which dozens of well-cared-for copper pots hang, ready for use. A beautiful stone cooking fireplace sits beside a long, elegant table. A poised staff in bleached chef whites preps for service, their knives sharp. The formula at Boulette’s Larder is a fixed price dinner for twelve guests and an a la carte lunch menu consisting of four or five daily items. I ordered the sardines, which which were pleasantly charred with a milky vegetable braise below them and two perfect grilled asparagus spear on top. The chef is French trained with San Francisco’s most extraordinary farmer’s market outside her door. Not to mention, a fish market, pork market, a mushroom market and many others. This was a recipe for divinity from the start. I was told not to take pictures so you’ll have to go to the website for a peak. (www.bouletteslarder.com)


Today, I went to Martin Luther King Middle School in Berkeley to meet with Shaina Robbins, the director of the Edible Schoolyard program. A Wisconsinite, like myself, she had recently left her career in New York City to take a more hands on approach in the world of food education. Alice Water’s is the mind behind the Edible Schoolyard and it is he beating heart of a revolutionary movement to teach children where the food they eat comes from. At about 1:30 in the afternoon, classes were in session in both the garden and the kitchen. Shaina explained to me that the goal was to teach the students the process by which plants are converted into food. For instance, in 6th grade, the children sow wheat seed and tend to it. In 7th grade, they harvest it, seperate the caff and grid the remaining wheat into flour. In eight grade the students make pizza dough from the wheat flour, as well as tomato sauce and pesto, which is frozen. And on a final celebratory day, they use the outdoor wood burning pizza oven to bake off their own pies.

The garden is beautiful and well established and the staff that maintains it is devoted to project. Chickens peck at the open piles of compost and straw mushroom houses hang from the trees. In the kitchen, students do all tasks by hand or with old fashion equipment such as wooden tortilla presses, mortar and pestles and apple presses, a lesson that you don’t need machines in order to cook dinner. The kids have “knife privileges” and don’t dare lose them.


Efforts similar to this have been made across the country but not nearly enough. It had me thinking about Maine’s childhood obesity problem and the need for food education. Just being outside and working seemed more productive than any math class I can remember attending.

Afterward, I headed over to the Berkley farmer’s market, where music from another era filled the air and a mixed crowd shopped for dinner. Nearby, is what the locals refer to a the “Gourmet Ghetto,” a string of specialty food shops selling good quality cheese, meat, artisan breads, spices, dried fruits, nuts and other fodder at reasonable prices. Chez Panisse is along this strip, so I ducked in to poke around. The kitchen was a thing of beauty, the pre-service mis-en-place in progress. This is was my favorite time of day when I worked in restaurant kitchens, the sound of only knives hitting cutting boards, and the occasional blender uproar but no conversation. Then I headed upstairs to the cafe to confirm my reservation for that evening. There behind the bar was Alice Waters herself and my heart pounded. I watched her move around her legendary restaurant, making sure everything was in it’s place. She smiled and I smiled in return. There’s no better conversation than that. I was more than satisfied.