Building relationships for food sovereignty

It's Saturday afternoon at Jean-Talon Market, and I'm looking for tomatoes. What would be a simple task in a grocery store becomes a real challenge here because it's peak harvest season. The aisles are overflowing with people, colours, fruits and vegetables. And the tomatoes? Which ones to choose? Vine-ripened, heirloom, cherry, grape? The diversity of varieties and colours, like the people who grew them, not only inspires me with a thousand recipe ideas, but also makes me think about what it reveals at a deeper level: an expression of food sovereignty. 

In 1996, at a time of rapid trade liberalisation, La Via Campesina — an international movement of farmers, native peoples, and small and medium-sized food producers — began to talk about food sovereignty. This concept, refined in 2007 in Mali, was defined as ‘the right of peoples to healthy food, respectful of cultures, produced using sustainable and environmentally friendly methods, as well as their right to define their own food and agricultural systems.’

Holding a Brandywine tomato in my hands, with its  river-like shape and sunset-coloured skin, I reflect on how food sovereignty speaks to millions of people around the world.

This term refers to the idea that food is fundamentally a relationship: with the natural world, of course, but also between us.

Cet aspect relationnel est incarné dans la mission de Les Filles  Fattoush, un traiteur et une  entreprise sociale qui emploie des femmes syriennes, dont plusieurs sont arrivées à Montréal en tant que réfugiées. En plus de leur kiosque présent dans la zone resto, elles ont récemment ouvert un café au Marché Jean-Talon. 

This relational aspect is embodied in the mission of Les Filles Fattoush, a catering company and social enterprise that employs Syrian women, many of whom arrived in Montreal as refugees. In addition to their kiosk in the food court, they recently opened a café at the Jean-Talon Market.

 ‘Les Filles Fattoush is much more than just good food: it's also about human connection,’ explains Cynthia Chackal, project manager.

The project, launched by Adelle Tarzibachi and Geneviève Comeau in 2017, aimed to promote the culinary expertise of these Syrian women. With customers, Cynthia shares not only the secret to making good hummus (‘you have to add ice cubes!’), but also her Syrian heritage. This relationship is also forged in the kitchen, where each dish is prepared by hand, recipes and stories are shared, and women rediscover a sense of belonging.

‘It's done with love, with connection, with presence,’ she says.

For Paul Toussaint, chef at the 3 Pierres, 1 Feu restaurant, also located at Jean-Talon Market, this relational dimension is reflected in the products. Twice a day, he and his team walk the aisles to stock up, as if the entire market were their pantry.

‘In Haiti, we live the same way. We have a tradition of going to the market in the mornings,’ he says.

When he arrived in Montreal, Paul kept up this habit. Today, vegetables from stalls such as Birri and Le Roi du Maïs find their way onto his plate.

In another row of the market, the Jardins d’Arlington team sells up to 80 varieties of fruits and vegetables during the season, including different types of tomatoes. In operation since 2008, Claire Lanctôt, Nasser Boumenna, their family and their team now cultivate 40 hectares organically in Stanbridge East.

‘We care about people, what they eat, how they feed their own families,’ says Claire.

This philosophy makes perfect sense when you realise the scale of the challenge, as they serve between 1,500 and 2,000 customers every week. The importance of their work is not only measured in sales or kilos of vegetables produced, but also in the human connections it creates, which in turn give meaning to the hard work on the farm. At their stall, producers and consumers become partners once again in the project of feeding our communities healthily.

In a world where food prices are skyrocketing, food sovereignty may seem out of reach. But by supporting local and ecological production, we show that food is not just a commodity. It is also heritage, relationships, and a path to a world where what we eat is good for us, for those who produce it, for the environment, and for our souls.
 

Rachel Cheng is a photographer, community organiser, and author based in Montreal, where she explores the links between food, sustainability, and social justice. With extensive experience in the non-profit sector, she collaborates on projects aimed at building a more equitable and inclusive food system, while offering strategic communication, writing, and photography services published in media outlets such as Condé Nast Traveller, Le Devoir, and La Presse.