A couple of days ago (May 29) I posted an excerpt from a portrait project I did with over half of the staff of the Berkeley Unified School District’s Garden and Cooking Program. The whole project was posted on the local news blog Berkeleyside.com. The greater idea was to raise awareness about the funding crisis the Garden & Cooking Program has been facing recently as well as to promote a local fundraising event for the Program. The Dine Out event, which took place all day May 30, was a group of local restaurants, cafes, and other food related joints that, in one form or another, agreed to donate a percentage of their proceeds to help fund the aforementioned Program. The basic premise: spend your money at these places and part of what you pay for will go to help fund the Program. Pretty simple stuff.

Although I’d already made a contribution in the form of organizing and executing the portrait project, wasn’t that just a glorified form of talking the talk? On the morning of May 30, I decided it was time to put on my old walking shoes. The following are only five of the forty one businesses that participated. I chose them not because of any particular form of favoritism, but because that’s what worked best on a practical level.

Why should anyone outside of the city of Berkeley care about this kind of thing? Solutions start on a local level, and there’s no better demonstration of that notion than to cover one’s hands up to the wrist in local dirt and let everyone else know about it.

The Acme Bread Company. Born in 1983, it’s done nothing more than bake really good bread the whole time. Walking through the front door of the original retail shop can be both awe inspiring and claustrophobic. Loaves, rolls, baguettes, decorative breads, sweet meats, and sourdoughs stare you down the moment you walk through the door. The temptation to get a little closer is stymied swiftly once you realize that all customers are cloistered off in a roughly 4 foot by 8 foot corner of the shop right at the front entrance. They don’t like letting anyone beyond this point as the variety of bread hanging on the shelves are less than 10 feet away from where the hands that made them make them. Why’d I choose ACME? Well, sandwiches need rolls (and yummy ones at that) and my kids needed sandwiches for their next day’s lunch. As many of you may already know, sandwiches aren’t just rolls. You’ve gotta put something between them. Myself being raised on the three major Eastern European food groups (pork, pig, and swine), I decided it was time to find something to fill the grainy void.

The Local Butcher Shop is not just a local butcher shop. After all $15/Lb for smoked ham isn’t exactly bargin basement. That said, the price doesn’t seem that outrageous if you bother to ask why it costs as much as it does. This is the good stuff (not all ham is alike and anyone who says so is … well … and idiot), not just in its preparation or savory flavor, but I’d go so far as to say it’s a meat-eater’s antidote to the poisonous guilt of lining the pockets of large factory farming. Still, its not just the ham. They’ve got the usuals and some of the not-so-usuals too (I’ve yet to find rabbit in the cold case of any major supermarket chain’s meat section), they’ve got KILLER sandwiches, and if you want to pick the brains (not literally of course) of the butchers who work there about any meat related topic, they’re eager to please. So I got myself a 1/4 Lb of the smoked ham satisfied in the idea that the extra money I’d spent was worth it.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always held fast to the practice of culinary matchmaking when it comes to sandwichry. It was time to find the perfect partner for the ham, and what goes better with ham (IMO)?

The Cheeseboard Collective has been around for awhile, and for good reason. It’s every fromageophiles’ dream, not to mention a real grinner for the clandestine unethical cardiologists of the world (the lactose intolerant can take solace in the fact that it’s also a bakery). Seriously, look up at that menu. After sampling a couple, could you really go back to Kraft slices with the same sense of satisfaction? By this time in the day all this bread, ham, and cheese was making me hungry, but like I said, these were all items meant for the kids’ lunch, not mine. Plus, I could not forget Dine Out. I looked at the list and made a friendly choice.

Babette might not seem so friendly at first glance. It’s tucked away in the rear section of the Berkeley Art Museum, a building that is almost entirely made of solid concrete with very industrial looking hard angles and bolts. If you dismiss the restaurant by first impression appearances alone, you’d be … well … and idiot. Although the sleek interior design screams “hipster,” and one glance at the sparse menu might be cause for pause, all doubts are shattered once you talk to the folks behind the counter and, tasting anything on the menu, you’ll find yourself wondering if or why you had any doubts at all. I came here, not just because it was on the list or for any fondness I might have for concrete, but because I happen to know the couple that owns the place. They’ve been cooking professionally in the Bay Area in one form or another for the last 20 years, and they’re damn good at it. They’re also the antithesis of the stereotypical haute cuisine restauranteurs that grace the pages of popular style publications. They’re working the food business the hard way, and like the other occasions I’ve been there, there they were, hands on everything everyday. Although I never asked, I’m relatively certain that recognition wasn’t the only purpose for their participation. They’ve got a boy in the public school system, and like Babette, they’re putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making sure that he can be as best prepared as one can be to face the world when the time comes. Besides all that, they had a scrumptious chicken sandwich with a roasted red pepper aioli, and to wash it all down, a fresh made ginger lemonade.

My Dine Out day had to be put on pause after that as there is more to do in a day than just sandwich-themed donation for a good cause. That said, the grand finale was there and waiting after the 5:00 hour.

I chose the Elmwood Cafe for dinner for several reasons. First, it’s not that far from where I live. Second, they’ve got really good food. Lastly, and not the least, the Elmwood chose to donate 100% of its proceeds between 5 – 10pm on that day. A cheshire grin folded out across my face at seeing the serpentine line winding its way into the entrance. Ok, that’s overdoing it a bit. It’s not exactly spring break waiting 20 minutes in line with two ravenously hungry kids just to order the food. The tale end of waiting another half and hour for the food to come felt like something out of a Solzhenitsyn novel as all three of us had wonderful drinks in front of us that we were carefully NOT drinking for fear of having to go back in line just to ask for a refill. Still, I was happy to see the many familier faces of parents and kids from the school both my kids attend. The kids ran around and played and there was plenty of good conversation to be had. When the food finally arrived, all three of us morphed into shrews and we gorged ourselves on, what else? Sandwiches! I had a chicken curry sandwich, the kid each had grilled cheese and tomato. Salad was eaten by all.

In the end was it all worth it? It was in terms of the yummy factor. Financially speaking? I hope so. The Dine Out fundraisers will be posting the total funds raised someday soon (so promises their website). Judging from the amount of people I saw at the places I attended, I feel pretty certain that they’ll meet their goal of $15,000. I’m crossing my fingers that they’ll exceed it, but it’s never a wise idea to speculate using personal experience alone. If it does exceed the amount, it’ll be a successful not just in raising more money than expected, but also in proving the power of people to look after their own community. Dinner has been served.