Last year, the London Food Coalition rescued approximately 514,000 pounds of food.

That number deserves attention — but not applause on its own. Weight is a blunt measure. It tells you how much moved through a system, not whether the system is fair, sufficient, or finished. Still, it’s one of the few ways we can begin to talk honestly about scale.

In practical terms, 514,000 pounds represents hundreds of thousands of meals that didn’t disappear into landfills and instead showed up in neighbourhoods across the city. It supported ongoing distributions at member agencies, helped sustain school and youth food programs, made community meals and outdoor gatherings possible, and allowed us to respond when grassroots organizations needed food quickly and outside of formal structures.

It also reduced waste in a very literal way. Food that is rescued is food that doesn’t generate methane in a landfill. While environmental impact is not our primary motivation, it matters. Preventing that much food from becoming waste avoids a significant amount of greenhouse-gas emissions — a reminder that food insecurity and climate responsibility are deeply connected.

But that food didn’t arrive evenly, predictably, or conveniently.

Some days brought exactly what programs needed. Other days brought abundance that tested our space, our storage, and our decision-making. Bread arrived faster than it could move. Freezers filled. Timing mattered. What could be shared immediately? What could be carried forward safely? What needed a quick phone call to the right partner before it lost value?

This is where the number becomes less abstract.

Every pound had to be received, weighed, sorted, and tracked. Much of that work was done by volunteers — alongside staff — making real-time decisions that shaped where food went and how useful it would be when it got there. Their work didn’t just move food; it created reliability for community programs that depend on consistency to serve people well.

Because food moved when it needed to, programs stayed open. Because surplus was shared instead of discarded, more people were fed. Because food was handled carefully and transparently, partners could plan rather than scramble.

At the same time, 514,000 pounds doesn’t mean need was met.

It doesn’t erase the reality that food costs are rising, that housing pressures are pushing more people into precarity, or that community food programs are being asked to do more with less. Food rescue helps — significantly — but it is not a replacement for income security, affordable housing, or a just food system.

What that number does represent is capacity. The capacity of a network to respond. The capacity of people to coordinate instead of compete. The capacity of a city, at least in moments, to move food with care rather than waste.

So when we talk about 514,000 pounds, we’re not claiming success. We’re marking responsibility — and acknowledging the people, systems, and relationships that carried that weight together.

The People Behind the Weight

Every pound of food rescued passed through someone’s hands.

Food doesn’t move itself. It is unloaded, sorted, lifted, weighed, stacked, frozen, thawed, redirected, and sometimes dealt with at the last possible minute by people who showed up that day expecting a “normal” shift and got anything but.

Much of that work was done by volunteers.

I’ve watched volunteers arrive early in the morning, pull on gloves, and get straight to work — no fanfare, no speeches, just quiet competence. I’ve watched them stay late when unexpected surplus arrived. I’ve watched them help solve storage puzzles, make careful judgment calls about food quality, and figure out how to move things quickly when there was more food than space.

What they bring goes beyond labour. They bring patience. Humour. Care. A willingness to do repetitive, physical work while still treating people with dignity. They notice things. They remember regular faces. They reflect the community we serve — retirees, students, people between jobs, newcomers, and people giving back because they know what support feels like.

Food rescue is physical work, but it’s also relational work. Volunteers hold both.

When we talk about impact in the community, we have to talk about the people who make that impact possible in real time, on real days, under real constraints.

What 514,000 Pounds Tells Us — and What It Doesn’t

There’s another side to this story.

Rescuing 514,000 pounds of food matters. But it also raises uncomfortable questions about how much food still doesn’t make it into community hands — and how much more could, if the right systems were in place.

Every year, far more edible food moves through London than any one organization can intercept. It passes through farms, processors, distributors, retailers, institutions, and households. Some of it is rescued. Much of it is not — not because people don’t care, but because coordination, storage, timing, and responsibility break down along the way.

Food rescue is not limited by goodwill. It’s limited by infrastructure.

To rescue more food — and to do it well — we need systems that make sharing the default rather than the exception. That means better coordination between donors and community organizations. It means centralized spaces that can receive, sort, and redistribute food efficiently. It means investment in cold storage, transportation, and staffing so that abundance doesn’t become a burden.

It also means cooperation over competition.

Food insecurity doesn’t resolve itself when organizations work in silos. It requires trust, information-sharing, and a willingness to plan collectively rather than react individually. When food can move quickly across a network — rather than stopping at organizational boundaries — it reaches people before it loses value.

There’s also the human side.

And finally, food rescue alone is not the solution.

Even if we rescued significantly more than 514,000 pounds, food insecurity would still exist. Rising food costs, unaffordable housing, and inadequate income supports continue to push people into precarity. Food systems can cushion that reality, but they cannot fix it on their own.

What food rescue can do — and what this past year shows is possible — is build capacity. Capacity to respond quickly. Capacity to work together. Capacity to treat food not as a charitable leftover, but as a shared community resource.

If we want to go further, we’ll need more than good intentions. We’ll need coordination, investment, political will, and a shared commitment to removing the structural and social barriers that keep food from flowing where it’s needed most.

514,000 pounds tells us what’s possible when people cooperate.

The question now is how much more is still within reach — and whether we’re willing to build the systems required to get there.