It’s just before 5 p.m. on a Wednesday when the cutting boards come out. Then, the kale — big fluffy piles of it, fresh from a vendor at the Westside Farmers Market, ready to be destemmed. The leafy vegetation was picked up earlier that day by a member of Rochester Food Not Bombs (RFNB), which meets twice weekly to cook at the Flying Squirrel Community Space on the outskirts of Corn Hill.
RFNB is just one chapter of the international, all-volunteer movement that recovers food from being discarded and prepares free vegan and vegetarian meals to share with the hungry. It’s grown to such lengths that some larger cities, like Philadelphia, have three chapters. Here, it’s operated by a core crew of approximately 10 members — a term the group prefers to “volunteers” — who anchor the twice-weekly cooks (5 p.m. on Wednesdays and 4 p.m. on Saturdays) and subsequent meal serves at the RTS Transit Center on St. Paul Street.
The member numbers tend to swell higher in the late summer and early fall, as college students from Rochester Institute of Technology and the University of Rochester regularly show up before the semester gets too busy. Then, there’s a dip in attendance during the holiday season and colder weather. One of the core members, Vas, has been attending cooks for almost four years, and said attendance numbers rose to nearly 30 people per week right after the 2024 election and presidential inauguration in January — that’s when RFNB added a second weekly cook on Wednesdays.
“It’s simple,” he said. “Now more than ever, people are looking for ways to help their community, to give back and be involved.”
Members trickle in throughout the 90-minute cook on that Wednesday, eventually reaching 12. They all seem to know one another, and their ages range anywhere from early 20s to late 30s, though it’s hard to tell with facial hair and the face masks worn by some. Age isn’t a factor regardless — Vas said elementary-age children have accompanied their parents to cooks. RFNB is non-hierarchical, and many members use alternate first names to remain anonymous. (For the purpose of this article, CITY agreed to respect that anonymity by only quoting Vas and keeping photos free of member faces.)
As each member finds a way to help during the cook, the banter is friendly and frequent. In the corner, a duo rummages through a bag of donated baked goods.
“Should we do PB and J on everything rolls?”
A laugh from the other.
“Yeah, probably not.”
Vendors like Lagoner Farms at the Westside Farmers Market and the Flower City Pickers, who are based at the Rochester Public Market, donate leftover, fresh food twice weekly, and the donations are never the same. (A recent gift from the Cornell Cooperative Extension, for example, was a new-to-the space stainless steel fridge.) Other one-off donations come in from restaurants, libraries and friends of the members.
This week, there’s a large amount of donated peppers and onions, so the enterprising cooks in the kitchen use them to make sauce for a vegan chicken and rice dish.
Back in the corner of the community room, a hand emerges with a bag of nebulous rolls.
“We might have a tough time selling spinach and feta rolls.”
“We’re not selling.”
“Even giving away for free means having to sell people on it.”
A nod of agreement from Vas; who added that part of the reason the group now serves meals at the transit center is because foot traffic was much lower at the former serve base in Nathaniel Square Park. Roc Food Not Bombs calls the Flying Squirrel’s kitchen home and has dedicated storage in the basement, but the building itself is a community space that anyone can reserve for rehearsals, meetings and more.
Five members station themselves in the kitchen to portion, sautee and stir. A sink fills with dishes as someone washes; another member adds a knife and a pot to the pile and the goodhearted banter continues.
“Behind, sharp, hot!”
The dishwasher, without missing a beat: “All things I am, yes.”
Within about an hour, the Wednesday cook is finished and a handful of volunteers line up compostable to-go containers: spooning rice, vegan chicken (donated by a company that had copyright issues and tons of fresh product they couldn’t sell), sauce, fresh fruit and kale assembly line-style. About 50 to-go containers are packed up, and then the members each grab one and sit down to eat.
“We like to say, ‘solidarity, not charity,’” said Vas. “The idea is that we’re all in the same boat, and working toward successful liberation means you don’t draw thick lines between you and the folks you’re helping.”
According to a May 2025 “Map the Meal Gap” report from Feeding America, the food insecurity population in Monroe County alone hovers at almost 100,000. These are households without access to enough food due to a lack of money and other essential resources. While local organizations like Foodlink and Open Door Mission fill specific gaps, the work is not done until everyone is fed. Put simply, Rochester is a town with many resources — and much need.
The Flying Squirrel is located on historic Clarissa Street, feet away from the former site of the The Pythodd Room, a prominent jazz club that operated from 1942-1973. The city recently erected a commemorative plaque for the club, which was on the Chitlin’ Circuit — places where Black musicians could safely work during the Jim Crow-era of discrimination — and hosted such famous names as Stevie Wonder, Alice McLeod (Coltrane) and George Benson.
As the sun sets beyond the Pythodd plaque, RFNB members pack the to-go containers into several cars, along with bags of sandwiches, apples, assorted baked goods, a carafe of hot coffee, water bottles, sanitary items and a bin of clothes. Within 25 minutes of parking, unloading, setting up and serving outside the Transit Center, everything is depleted. Members tell disappointed latecomers they’ll be back Saturday, pack up their tables and drive back to Clarissa Street.
“This crowd was pretty representative of a typical Wednesday night,” said Vas.
The serve went so quickly that the remaining members at The Flying Squirrel are still cleaning up. As the members dip out into the twilight, up and down the ramp to help unload the empty boxes and bins from Vas’s vehicle, a few reluctantly say goodbye.
“See you next cook.” rocfnb.org
