Fall 2020: Groundwork

This issue of edible is for the workers that form the backbone of our food economy. Rarely in the limelight and often undervalued, the many farmworkers, delivery drivers, produce handlers, servers, dishwashers, and other food industry workers who bring the food to our tables, sometimes literally, have stories to tell. The stories in these pages make clear that, for many, the labor behind our meals has never felt more dangerous, more insecure, or less compensated. In this issue, we hope to give a voice to some of these workers and share a few of their experiences and concerns as the ongoing pandemic persists.

This issue of edible is for the workers that form the backbone of our food economy. Rarely in the limelight and often undervalued, the many farmworkers, delivery drivers, produce handlers, servers, dishwashers, and other food industry workers who bring the food to our tables, sometimes literally, have stories to tell. The stories in these pages make clear that, for many, the labor behind our meals has never felt more dangerous, more insecure, or less compensated. In this issue, we hope to give a voice to some of these workers and share a few of their experiences and concerns as the ongoing pandemic persists.

The labor behind our meals, as the stories in this issue likewise reveal, is manifold: it is the work of perfecting a tomato harvest in the garden, maintaining a craft distillery during a pandemic, or using a cookie shop as a platform for racial justice and lasting change. These stories remind us that good food, the kind that nourishes and strengthens the bonds of family, friendships, and community, comes not just through love, but through sweat.  

We also shine a light on food businesses and towns that have often been overlooked or sidelined, with visits to a handbuilt barbecue rig in Alamogordo and a hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant and market in Albuquerque. In highlighting Black business owners and tapping into Albuquerque’s budding Korean food scene, we begin to confront the invisibility of those members of our greater food community who tend to be excluded from mainline narratives of our state’s history. Seeking out, patronizing, and amplifying BIPOC-owned businesses is essential work for all who are dedicated to the vitality of local food. 

As this issue goes to press, reports on the slowing transmission of COVID-19 give us cautious reason to hope. As we celebrate the backyard harvest of tomatoes, and as the state moves once again toward reopening, we invite readers to honor (and tip!) those who all along have continued their work behind the scenes—planting seeds, hoeing rows, wiping down tables, and building the kinds of relationships and mutual aid networks that we all need. Now more than ever, we ask that you support the labor being done here, in New Mexico, in your neighborhoods, and for the health of our communities.