How a chef and a community fight food insecurity in Paterson’s Little Lima
Chef Edgardo prepares a meal in the Oasis kitchen. Photo: Marco Gutierrez Rosales
By Marco Gutierrez Rosales
A little past 9 in the morning, the breakfast hustle at Oasis is over and head chef Edgardo Medina takes a moment to have a quick coffee before the day’s biggest challenge: lunchtime.
He had set out flapjacks and sausages buffet-style, like a hotel breakfast, attracting close to 100 people. Nothing was left. “I have yet to receive a complaint about one of my meals,” Edgardo said and shrugged his shoulders.
He arrives at 7 am every day (except Sundays). First, he checks what’s in stock. A shout to the back of the kitchen, and his team is in motion. He takes pride in his soups made with fresh vegetables. It’s time-consuming but makes all the difference in flavor. “Our soup is made from scratch– we cut the onions, toss in the salt, throw in the garlic, every day,” he said. “I can’t just go downstairs and bring up 20 cans of chicken noodle soup.”
After over 20 years of restaurant experience, he’s learned how to run a kitchen. “In the kitchen, no matter how hurried you are, you have to keep calm,” he said. “If you lose control, you’ll ruin everything.”
Oasis is not a restaurant, however; it’s a non-profit soup kitchen in Paterson, New Jersey, that serves hot meals to women and children. Oasis also provides clothing and social support to families living in poverty.
Today more than 200 people are expected for lunch. Edgardo and his team of four are preparing today’s menu: Mongolian beef with chicken noodle soup.
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“Oasis started off as a soup kitchen and that’s because in the city of Paterson, there were none that would allow a mom to come with their child,” said Jenny Vega, the social services manager at Oasis. The surrounding neighborhood, dubbed Little Lima because of its Peruvian population, is mostly Latino with a growing Palestinian populace. The meals here function as an invitation into the building, where people can then avail themselves of the additional services offered, if they so choose.
With its “no questions asked” policy, Oasis offers services to any women and children who enter, regardless of legal status. Jenny said that many of the women are also victims of domestic violence. Privately funded, Oasis isn’t restricted by federal regulations, setting it apart from other organizations. Jenny explains that while statewide homelessness numbers may appear to be declining, the demand for their services is skyrocketing due to Paterson’s housing crisis. The city council refers undocumented residents, who can’t access public assistance like food stamps and housing, to Oasis.
“When you go to one of our supermarkets here, what do you see? Cakes, chips, hot dogs, and soda,” Jenny said. Paterson is listed as a food desert according to the New Jersey Economic Development Authority. In Little Lima, there’s an abundance of convenience stores which may have higher prices, low-quality foods, and limited amounts of fresh produce compared to grocery stores.
Residents of a neighborhood are at risk of food insecurity if their access to healthy foods is affected by a lack of transportation, long travel distances, and fewer supermarkets. Although food assistance programs help address this, it doesn’t address the interconnected issues related to income, employment, and housing. “The food in our community brings people to a table,” Jenny said. “Then they can say, ‘I do need help.’”
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People gather at Oasis for lunchtime. Photo: Marco Gutierrez Rosales
Edgardo said the menu at Oasis wasn’t as varied before his arrival almost three years ago. Though he’s Peruvian, like many in Little Lima, he’s adapted the menu to reflect the neighborhood’s growing cultural diversity. Now, he prepares a range of dishes, like lamb gyros, jerk chicken, and chicken tikka masala, for the various communities that frequent his dining room. Some of his older Peruvian attendees, tasting these dishes for the first time, often praise his cooking.
“Everything I know I’ve learned from, as they say, the university of life,” he said. “I vary the menu to try to keep everyone happy.” Working within a limited budget, there’s a lot of mental math with his planning, often relying on food bank donations. “The worst thing is to give food without flavor,” he said. Edgardo and his team of “3.5” members—since one helper only stays for three hours—give their best with what they have. “There’s a certain perception that soup kitchens have,” he said. “I want to give them the restaurant experience.”
Edgardo, with gray peppered in his hair and reading glasses drooped to the lower half of his nose like a librarian, spent many years at an Italian-American restaurant, where he became known for preparing lomo saltado, a popular Peruvian dish that combines stir-fried strips of sirloin and marinated vegetables served with rice, for Peruvians who preferred it over Italian food.
“My goal was always to have a restaurant and I got that chance,” Edgardo said. He opened and managed one for eight years. “It was working out until the pandemic happened. By the end of it, that’s when I made the decision to shut it down.” Edgardo looked down and spun around the pen in his hands as if he were stirring a bowl of soup. “You can’t continue something that can’t go on. There are chapters in life that need to close and one has to be realistic and say ‘it can’t go on and it can’t go on’ and leave it at that.”
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By noon, the doors to the soup kitchen open again and hundreds of people are lined outside. The cafeteria, located in the heart of the three-story building, has three rows of tables with dozens of chairs. The maintenance staff help escort the attendees to sit at a table first. Many are elderly. Most speak Spanish. All are women. At this point, Edgardo has emerged from the kitchen, his shirt under his apron damp with sweat, and his team bring out trays of warm meals. Once the attendees are seated, volunteers from neighboring communities help serve plates of Mongolian beef and chicken noodle soup.
“Our women that come, sometimes they need community—for some of them, this is a dining experience. Not only do we get good food, but we have great conversations and build relationships with people,” Jenny, the social services manager, said.
Aila Reynaga is from Peru and has been coming to Oasis for five years. At the age of 79, what she most needs, she said, is a job. “There’s no work but we do have food and clothing which is helpful, but what’s necessary is work to pay rent,” she said.
A volunteer server handed Mrs. Reynaga a second plate of Mongolian beef which she refused with a gesture of her hand, indicating that she already ate. ‘Are you sure?’ the volunteer asked in English. “Si,” Mrs. Reynaga responded in Spanish.
“In the beginning, when I first arrived, I suffered. But once you find out what services can be most helpful to you, we start to feel a bit more comfortable,” she said. “When I go back to Peru, I’m thinking of setting up my own soup kitchen, just like this, because I want to help.”
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Edgardo loves what he does, and appreciates he can run a kitchen with less stress than he experienced at his own restaurant.
He said he feels he has come full circle. In February 1989, Edgardo left Peru, crossing through Panama and into Mexico. He remembers a stranger’s kindness in Yucatán, where an older man sheltered, fed, and protected him from Mexican authorities. The man was poor, and what little he had, he offered it to us, Edgardo said. By the time he reached the United States, it was May.
“People are going through tough problems and their problems are growing,” Edgardo said. “This organization offers services and it creates an environment for people to find solutions to the various problems they have. I think that’s what makes people come here.”
After lunch, Edgardo often steps out to greet his guests. This is his favorite part of the day, hearing people say, “Chef, the food was so good,” “It was delicious,” and “God bless you.” All Edgardo does in response is nod humbly and smile. “Those are comments,” Edgardo said, “that make you feel that what you’re doing is something good, makes you want to keep doing what you’re doing and do it better.”