The Real Junk Food Project, an organisation that turns foods destined for the bins into cooked meals, is ready for a world take over. Features Editor Ruby Lott-Lavigna talks to founder Adam Smith about feeding the world, supermarkets, and why he hates Jamie Oliver.

‘I’m here to interview someone called Joshua?’ I say, as I stare up into a converted ambulance in the middle of Trinity shopping centre. ‘Yeah, he’s not here today, but I’m the founder if you’d like to talk to me?’ Well, I think to myself, that worked out well. It appears that the slightly disorganised nature of The Real Junk Food Project, a café-cum-alternative-economic-system, has worked in my journalistic favour. Tucked in the far right corner of the Trinity Kitchen, in a converted ambulance van with fairy lights, the café creates and cooks meals from food that would have ordinarily gone to waste. An organisation, with the ambition to change the way we think about food.

The pop-up stall in Trinity is just a transient leg of the project, though it functions in the same way as the permanent café in Armley, where – under a ‘pay as you feel’ banner – anyone can come in and eat for as much as they can afford. They’ve fed thousands of people, ranging from middle-class-students-with-a-social-conscience to the homeless and those struggling with substance abuse. Adam Smith, the highly experienced chef turned food revolutionist, has led – with help from volunteers and the community – a change in the way food waste is dealt with. This ain’t no Jamie Oliver TM pseudo social-good bullshit, this is the real deal.

In fact, I made the mistake of mentioning Jamie Oliver, after the Brighton Branch of The Real Junk Food Project appeared on Jamie and Jimmy’s Friday Night Feast a few weeks ago. I don’t think Adam likes him much. ‘He’s an arsehole. He sent me a birthday present, a signed book of his. I got someone to take a picture of me going into a charity shop with it. He’s an arsehole…the guy is a fucking multi-millionaire. I’m sick of going to Australia and people saying to me ‘you’re just like Jamie Oliver.’ I’m not like Jamie Oliver whatsoever. He could do so much more. Look what we’ve done with nothing. Do you know how much we’ve been paid? Nothing. We’ve never taken a wage. Nobody has ever taken any money out of this, and look at how much we’ve achieved. Eighty-three café’s around the world right now.’ I figured maybe the show has been good for publicity though – a lot of people do watch it. ‘We got nothing from it. I got three emails. When The Independent did the article about us we had a hundred thousand hits, from all over the world. We got absolutely nothing [from the television show]. I’m not just saying that because I can’t stand the guy. We got nothing.’

If his name rings a bell, then it’s probably because you’re thinking of the Scottish enlightenment figure and pioneer of economic thought, Adam Smith. Interesting, then, that this Adam Smith is trying to shift not only the way we think about food, but also the way we think about money. Customers are left to value their own food, and if you don’t have money to give, food can be ‘purchased’ through volunteering or alternate skills. ‘You don’t have to pay with money. At the café, people volunteer and make payments by washing up or, [for example] we’ve got graphic design students from Leeds Uni at the moment doing a lot of graphic design.’ I told him how I thought it really psyched people out. Once from returning with a random selections of items from the van (Rachel’s yogurt x3, tofu, semolina, peaches) my flatmate just couldn’t comprehend how I could value those items myself. ‘People have said to us all the time “what is the average donation?” and there isn’t an average donation. It’s pay as you feel. If I tell you how much every donation to the café was, that doesn’t tell you anything. That doesn’t prove the value of the food. In the café sometimes we have caviar, or salmon, or joints of gammon. We tell people to go away, eat the food, and then come back afterwards and tell us what you want to pay for it.’

‘People have said to us all the time “what is the average donation?” and there isn’t an average donation. It’s pay as you feel.

‘The very first day [in Trinity] we did jacket potato, cheese and beans, and people would ask for it, and we’d say it’s pay as you feel and they’d go ‘what does that mean?’ and they’d get out like a £10 or £20 and just walk away and I’d say, no no no, I don’t want you to just give me money because you feel embarrassed or tight for not leaving enough, I want you to understand why we’re here to give you this food, and understand the value of it at the same time.’

Looking around at the other stalls in Trinity, you start to understand what he means. The ambulance is sat next to a Jerk Chicken Food Stall selling £7 burgers, and £9 meals. Normally, I’d not think twice about that. A little pricey, but not absurd. Yet when you think about the meals TRJFP can create from discarded food, you start to readjust the ways you understand costings.

I wondered if the place in Trinity Kitchen felt different to the café in Armley. ‘It’s harder here than at the café. Once you step over the threshold of the café, you are instantly part of the concept, so you have a bit of understanding of what you’re about to be involved in.’ Trinity, however, has given them access to a much larger number of people. ‘We got about eight week’s takings in eight days. We got rid of a lot of food which is really good. It works, in a lot of respects. It’s exposed us to a completely different kind of demographic. It does a lot of good things being here. It’s just not me this place. But I can’t take anything away from Trinity, they’ve been incredibly supportive.’

It’s a common misconception that TRJFP deals with supermarkets. In fact, that’s pretty optimistic. Supermarkets can be very touchy about admitting how much food they throw away, and are consequently very reluctant to become involved in projects that shed light on their problem. For example, in 2013, Tesco reported that it had almost 30,000 tonnes of food waste in their first 6 months. TRJFP, as a result, deal with ‘food banks, allotments, cafes, restaurants, events and promotions’ instead of supermarkets. ‘Unless we go through the bins, we don’t have anything to do with them. They’re fucking horrible people. Can’t stand ‘em. They’ve sworn at me, spat at me, thrown food away in front of me. We’ve had head office meetings at Tesco about us they’ve said they want nothing to do with The Real Junk Food Project. They’re a pain in the arse; they drag their knuckles. They’re just fucking useless. So we don’t deal with them.’

‘Unless we go through the bins, we don’t have anything to do with them. They’re fucking horrible people. Can’t stand ‘em. They’ve sworn at me, spat at me, thrown food away in front of me.

Regardless of some of the struggles TRJFP has faced, the organisation has big dreams. I ask Adam where he wants to go with this. ‘Feed the world. That’s what we set it up to do. I have a model that’s not only sustainable but also financially sustainable that we can just give to the people for free.’ As part of their commitment to reducing food waste in as many places a possible, they’ve convinced all the vans in Trinity Kitchen to go pay as you feel on Saturday 7^th February, in order to generate ‘zero food waste from the source.’ So if your thing is social good, saving money, and food (the dream), then get yourself down to Trinity Kitchen this Saturday. Just a word of advice though: do not compare Adam Smith to Jamie Oliver.

Ruby Lott-Lavigna

Photographs and Media: Lucie Luise England-Duce, TheGuardian YouTube Sam Joseph, themirror.com.