In the backroom of a downtown Prince George community centre, a gleaming stainless-steel workspace is becoming the unexpected frontline in northern B.C.’s battle against food insecurity. The newly opened commercial kitchen at the Native Friendship Centre isn’t just about preparing meals—it represents a fundamental shift in how this resource-rich but often overlooked region approaches food sovereignty.
“We’ve always known access to proper kitchen facilities was the missing piece,” explains Barb Ward-Burkitt, Executive Director of the Prince George Native Friendship Centre. “Families want to preserve traditional foods, entrepreneurs need certified space to prepare products, and community groups require infrastructure to process local harvests. This kitchen answers all those needs.”
The $450,000 facility, funded through a partnership between the provincial government and Northern Development Initiative Trust, opened its doors last month after two years of planning. What makes it revolutionary isn’t just the industrial-grade equipment—it’s the community-centered approach to addressing a problem that affects nearly one in six northern B.C. households.
According to the most recent Northern Health food security assessment, approximately 17% of Prince George residents experience some form of food insecurity, a rate significantly higher than the provincial average of 12.4%. The reasons are complex: transportation challenges, shorter growing seasons, and the economic realities of northern communities all contribute to a system where fresh, affordable food remains inaccessible to many.
City councillor Kyle Sampson, who championed the project at council meetings, sees the kitchen as addressing multiple community needs simultaneously. “This isn’t just about feeding people today—it’s about building capacity for a more resilient food network throughout the region,” Sampson told me during a tour of the facility. “When local farmers and food producers have access to processing infrastructure, it creates a multiplier effect that benefits the entire community.”
The kitchen’s impact is already evident. Within its first month of operation, over 200 community members have utilized the space. Local berry farmers are producing preserves that extend their selling season. Indigenous knowledge keepers are hosting workshops on traditional food preparation. A group of newcomers to Canada have started a small-scale catering cooperative featuring global cuisine.
For Prince George’s urban Indigenous population, the kitchen holds special significance. “Access to land-based foods is a fundamental right that’s been systematically disrupted,” notes Ward-Burkitt. “Having infrastructure to process game meat, preserve berries, and prepare traditional medicines supports cultural continuity and food sovereignty simultaneously.”
The kitchen operates on a cost-recovery model, charging nominal fees that ensure accessibility while maintaining operational sustainability. Community groups can access subsidized rates, while small-scale food entrepreneurs pay market-comparable fees that remain significantly lower than establishing their own certified facilities.
Prince George farmer Lynda Waterson sees the kitchen as a game-changer for her small-scale operation. “Before this opened, I’d have surplus produce at season’s end with nowhere to process it,” she explains while demonstrating how she uses the commercial-grade equipment to prepare frozen vegetable packages. “Now I can extend my selling season by months and reduce waste dramatically.”
The social benefits extend beyond the economic. Regular community meals bring together diverse populations who might otherwise remain isolated. Last week’s “harvest dinner” featured dishes prepared by three generations working side by side, with elders sharing traditional preparation techniques with youth.
“What we’re witnessing is community-building through food,” observes Dr. Maya Thompson, a food security researcher at the University of Northern British Columbia. “When people gather to process food together, it creates bonds of reciprocity and knowledge-sharing that strengthen community resilience.”
Despite its early success, challenges remain. Transportation barriers still prevent some community members from accessing the facility. The kitchen’s popularity means booking slots can require planning weeks in advance. And while processing infrastructure solves one part of the food security equation, issues of affordability and distribution persist.
Prince George Food Policy Council member Denise Rujina believes the kitchen represents just one piece of a needed systemic approach. “We need to pair this infrastructure with policies that support northern agriculture, transportation networks that connect remote communities, and education programs that build food skills,” she argues.
Regional food banks report the kitchen is already making a difference in both the quantity and quality of donations they receive. “We’re seeing community groups using the kitchen to prepare nutritious frozen meals that can be distributed during times when fresh donations decline,” notes Prince George Food Bank coordinator James Weston.
Provincial monitoring suggests the model could be replicated in other northern communities facing similar challenges. The Ministry of Agriculture has dispatched observers to document the kitchen’s operational model, with an eye toward scaling similar infrastructure throughout B.C.’s rural and remote regions.
As I watch a group of seniors preparing meals for homebound elders, the deeper significance of the space becomes apparent. Beyond the practical aspects of food processing, this kitchen represents a community reclaiming agency over its food systems—one batch of preserved vegetables, one traditional recipe, and one shared meal at a time.
For Prince George, a community that has weathered economic transitions from resource extraction to a more diversified economy, the kitchen symbolizes a return to fundamentals. Food, community, and self-determination are intertwining in this stainless-steel workspace, offering a glimpse of what northern food security might look like when communities design their own solutions.
“This isn’t just about feeding people,” Ward-Burkitt reminds me as we exit the bustling kitchen. “It’s about nourishing a community in every sense of the word.”
