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Camp Happy Tummies: comfort through food and hospitality
from Issue #1 2019
Camp Happy Tummies: Comfort Through Food and Hospitality
by LeeAnna Tatum
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The small Florida town of Mexico Beach was once home to about 1,000 people and a favorite fishing spot for Chef Dave Snyder. That is, until Hurricane Michael made direct contact in October 2018. When Snyder heard that Mexico Beach was in the storm’s path, it wasn’t a question of if he would go but how soon he could make it happen.
Chef Snyder, owner of three Saint Simon’s Island restaurants, was anxious to get on the road to what was left of Mexico Beach and do what he does best - feed people.
He had most of the equipment needed to set up a mobile kitchen onsite following the storm. What he lacked, the Golden Isles community quickly stepped up to fill the need. Raising $23,000 for food, fuel, additional equipment and an RV rental in just two days (with a total that eventually reached $80,000 in donations).
With the generous support of his home communitybehind him, Snyder set out to help feed those leftdesolate in the wake of the storm.
“We (Halyard’s Head Chef Francisco Jimenez also volunteered his time and talent) loaded up the trailer knowing we could make a difference immediately. We had a refrigerated truck full of food and our trailer full of restaurant equipment - we could cook and serve it. This community ralliedvery quickly,” Snyder said.
Hurricane Michael was one of the most intense storms on record to hit the US and the eye of the storm passed directly over the small town. The Washington Post reported that the storm surge reached over 15 feet high with waves elevating water levels to over 20 feet or the equivalent height of a two story building.
Homes and buildings were not just knocked down, they were literally swept away.
Snyder followed the storm into town, shocked and overwhelmed by the level of destruction he witnessed.
“Just getting there was heartbreaking and getting to the beach and when you see piles of debris ten, twenty feet high as far as you can see - it’s demoralizing,” Snyder said. “Other than burying my parents, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done just because every slab that you saw without a house on it was a story. Every car you’d pass that was upside down was a story. It still breaks my heart.”
Snyder and Jimenez - having skirted the Coast Guard blockade - set up camp and worked alongside locals, Michael Scoggins and Hal Summers (owner and manager respectively of local restaurant Killer Seafood) to prepare hot meals and hot coffee for beleaguered residents, first responders and cleanup crews.
“Everybody loves comfort food,” Snyder said. “We knew we could make a difference with the comfort of food. But we learned very quickly that “comfort” could mean different things.”
For many, that comfort was a hot cup of coffee. For one woman, an ice cold bottle of water and for another, the simple fact that her meal was hot and fresh.
“We had a woman on day seven of the storm … andshe literally cried because she had something coldfor the first time in a week. So, comfort for her was a bottle of cold water coming out of an ice chestthat has ice in it,” Snyder recalled.
“Comfort was another woman, two days later that cried at breakfast at the buffet line. We asked her if she was ok, was there anything wrong. And she said that she hadn’t had anything not out of a bag in more than a week. So, comfort for her was scrambled eggs.”
The impromptu relief kitchen became known as Camp Happy Tummies and it was more than simply a place to find a hot meal and nourishment for the body, as the name implies it was also a place where spirits were lifted, news could be shared, plans made and friends reunited.
“For us it was a new definition of “comfort food” and it was more “comfort hospitality”, Snyder explained. We were able to make a new civic center, a new city hall, a new town center; people called it their living room, their dining room. We created a new epicenter and this community came together to create that.”
One of the most poignant moments for Snyder waswitnessing the remarkable reunion of two friends.
“It was day nine,” Snyder recounted. “Keep in mind, no cell phones were working yet, roads were closed, no one was allowed in or out, no one’s cars were working. So, if you lived across town three miles away, you didn’t know what was going on. Nobody knew anything about anybody.”
“We saw two women in our dining room at dinner crying and hugging - sobbing crying,” he continued. “And we’re thinking, worst case scenario that someone has died and how do we comfort these ladies? But we created a place where these two friends could meet and they were crying out of joy because they each thought the other one wasn’t alive.”
“So, by creating a dining room, we had a place where those women could connect and realize their friend was alive. And there’s no greater feeling in the world than knowing your community helped create that and that people came together to put bread on the table and the meaning of breaking and sharing bread took on a whole new meaning through this experience.”
“And that’s the beauty of what restaurants do for people - it’s hospitality which extends far beyond the reaches of our dining room,” Snyder said. “When we need to make people feel better, food can do it. And not just food, hospitality.”