As Ottawa’s first frost warning sets in, I’m watching Ontario’s food rescue landscape transform in ways that even policy veterans couldn’t have predicted five years ago. Standing outside the Ottawa Food Bank’s expanded warehouse last Tuesday, I witnessed volunteers sorting through crates of slightly bruised McIntosh apples and oddly-shaped carrots from Essex County farms – produce that would have been plowed under before pandemic-era initiatives changed our relationship with food waste.
“We’re receiving about 40% more fresh produce donations from farms compared to 2019,” explains Rachael Wilson, CEO of the Ottawa Food Bank. “But the question becomes whether growers can sustain these donations as their own costs climb.”
The timing couldn’t be more critical. With Thanksgiving approaching and food banks reporting record demand, Ontario’s patchwork of food rescue programs faces an uncertain future despite their impressive growth. The programs redirect unsold or imperfect produce from farms to food banks and community kitchens instead of landfills.
Agriculture ministry figures show Ontario farmers donated approximately 6.8 million pounds of fresh produce to food banks last year, nearly double pre-pandemic levels. These programs caught political attention during COVID when supply chain disruptions left farmers with fields of food and nowhere to sell it.
The provincial government responded with the $15 million Surplus Food Redistribution Infrastructure Program in 2020. Those funds helped build cold storage facilities and purchase refrigerated trucks that remain operational today.
But that funding expires next spring, and many growers tell me they’re weighing difficult decisions about continuing their participation without financial support. For perspective, a mid-sized vegetable operation can spend upwards of $5,000 per season on harvesting, packaging and transporting donated food.
“I’d love to keep sending our seconds and surplus to people who need it, but we’re looking at production costs that have risen 28% in three years,” says Maria Konopetski, whose family operates a 60-acre mixed vegetable farm near Leamington. “The math is getting harder to justify.”
Walking through Konopetski’s fields, she points to rows of cabbage and cauliflower that in previous years would have been fully harvested for donation after the main commercial harvest. This year, she’s uncertain if they can afford the labour to get it all to food banks.
Recent polling from the Ontario Federation of Agriculture shows Konopetski isn’t alone. About 62% of participating farmers reported they’re likely to reduce food donations without continued support programs, according to their September membership survey.
The issue creates a particularly challenging dynamic in rural ridings, where many Conservative MPPs represent both farming communities and areas with high food insecurity. Political pressure is building from both food security advocates and farm groups for an extension of the redistribution program.
In committee discussions last month, Agriculture Minister Lisa Thompson indicated the government was “reviewing program outcomes” but stopped short of committing to renewal. Meanwhile, Ontario Green Party leader Mike Schreiner has made program extension part of his fall legislative agenda.
“This is one of those rare programs with triple-bottom-line benefits – reducing food waste, supporting farmers, and addressing hunger,” Schreiner told me during a call about his upcoming food security tour. “The return on investment is clear.”
The program’s importance becomes evident in communities like Kingston, where the Loving Spoonful organization built a direct farm-to-agency delivery network using provincial infrastructure dollars. They now move about 90,000 pounds of fresh food annually from farms to agencies.
“Before 2020, we couldn’t accept many farm donations because we lacked refrigeration capacity,” explains Loving Spoonful’s executive director Mara Shaw. “The program didn’t just build infrastructure – it built relationships between farmers and food security organizations that would be devastating to lose.”
What makes this issue particularly complicated is that hunger in Ontario hasn’t receded with the pandemic. Food Banks Canada reports a 35% increase in food bank usage across the province compared to 2019 levels. With average grocery bills up 21% over the same period according to Statistics Canada, emergency food organizations have become semi-permanent fixtures for many working families.
Inside Toronto’s FoodShare distribution hub, I watch as pallets of gleaming red peppers from Holland Marsh farms are unloaded. These second-grade peppers have minor blemishes but are perfectly nutritious. FoodShare’s purchasing programs incorporate both donations and below-market purchases from farmers to supply their Good Food Box program that serves 4,000 households weekly.
“The most sustainable programs create value for everyone in the system,” notes FoodShare’s director of programs Katie German. “That might mean a hybrid approach where farmers get some compensation, even if it’s below retail, rather than straight donations.”
German’s observation touches on the heart of the political challenge. There seems to be broad consensus that fighting food waste while addressing hunger makes sense, but less agreement on who should bear the costs.
A recent parliamentary committee report recommended tax incentives for farmers donating food rather than direct program funding, which could appeal to fiscal conservatives while sustaining food flows. However, many food security advocates argue tax credits don’t address immediate costs for struggling farm operations.
Back at the Ottawa Food Bank warehouse, volunteer Dave Schneider, a retired agriculture ministry employee, puts it plainly while sorting potatoes: “We’ve built something that works. Now we need to figure out how to keep it going.”
As ministers deliberate the program’s fate behind closed doors, what’s clear is that Ontario’s food rescue initiatives have fundamentally changed the relationship between farms and food banks. The question that remains is whether the political will exists to sustain these connections through the next planting season and beyond.
Ontario’s food rescue landscape, like those frost-threatened fields I passed on my drive back to Ottawa, now faces a critical transition period. How we navigate it will say much about our priorities as a province and our commitment to both agricultural viability and food security.
