Jenny B. Davis

The first annual Vegan Iron Chef Competition is off to a slow start. According to the hand-stenciled fliers papering storefronts around the Damen El stop, the cooking was to start at 5pm, with the judging and the feasting scheduled for 7pm.

At the designated hour, however, most of the chefs are still milling about the prep table. The obvious lack of structure might have brought down lesser events, but here it goes unnoticed. In fact, it might even be encouraged. That's because the competition is taking place at the A-Zone, a gathering place for anarchist fringe groups that hosts a mixed bag of theme nights ranging from alternative gender expression to bicycle maintenance. Tonight's festivities are a benefit for a grassroots charity called Food Not Bombs.

FNB's decidedly non-militant manifesto involves preparing vegan meals from grocery-store donations and dumpster-dives and handing them out weekly to the homeless at parks and El stops in Lincoln Park, Rogers Park, Logan Square and Uptown. A sort of a soup kitchen with a higher consciousness. Each of tonight's teams represents a local chapter, and all chapters will share proceeds.

That the Iron Chef theme is borrowed from a campy television show originating in über-capitalist Japan and broadcast on cable doesn't seem to bother the volunteers. Mainly because most haven't actually seen the show.

"The goal here is to be creative, disorganized and delicious," announces M.C. Josh Musinski, resource coordinator for the Aurora FNB chapter. "The first rule is that there are no rules. So if you can make, like, five dishes, kick ass. But if you can only make one really good dish, that's cool, too."

The chefs plunge into their assigned milk crates, which are filled with castoffs like blue corn chips, Silken tofu and Pepperidge Farm party toasts donated from upscale grocery stores.

Amidst rhythmic chopping and pan clattering, some of the chefs begin kibitzing about the sad state of the paying audience, which had numbered four until one guy got hungry and left. Dave Fried of the Logan Square culinary team volunteers to visit the neighboring Congress Theater to recruit people in line for the Dashboard Confessional concert. "If we could get just one, that would be cool," he says.

When two young girls show up at the door, Fried thinks the trip might have been a success. "Welcome!" he says. "Did you come over from the concert?" "No," answers the blonde. "But we're looking for tickets " They walk in and take a seat. FNB volunteer Lesley Scott bounds over and explains the purpose of the event. The blonde hands over $20. "Excellent," says Lesley, stuffing the bill into a creased white envelope. "Do you want change?"

(2002-10-30)

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