The heart longs for a perfect world; the way to mine is through my stomach, which is why I had piled three different kinds of noodles on a little plate at lunch with some of the men and women who used to work for PMP.

See Wednesday’s column.

They had just finished their studies for the day. they are running out of benefits. Soon, they will be moving on. to what, who knows?

Hence, they organized a potluck, a chance to eat together as a group before they move off, one by one; also, it was a chance to thank their teacher.

In addition to the noodles, there were tubs of rice, samosas and spring rolls, and there was fresh fruit and apple cake for dessert.

The apple cake was made by Jeannie Haller, their teacher. I was stuffing noodles down my hatch, trying to remember to save some room for cake, when I saw one of the students cut a slice and put it on her plate.

She ate cake with chopsticks.

I had never seen that done before, perhaps because apple cake with cream cheese frosting is neither a Vietnamese, nor a Chinese, nor a Korean delicacy. but if you are used to eating with chopsticks . . .

I remembered those women in Regent Park who needed a way to earn some money, so they got together to make samosas and now they have a thriving business, Sunshine Catering, feeding their neighbours and supplying food for those endless lunch meetings organized by social services groups in the area.

I also remembered spending a day at Toronto’s Food Business Incubator, where I watched a handsome couple perfect their recipe for empanadas.

An aside: I suggested that, um, chorizo and potato was nice, but how about an empanada made with apples and maple; yum, as it were.

I’m thinking out loud right now.

Here are a bunch of workers who know how to cook. they have the support of the unions who stood up for them. they also have no jobs. but there are construction sites all over town, and workers have to eat, and noodles are good, and you get the point.

I wonder why the unions did not think out of the box when PMP snuck out of town like a dog in the night.

I wonder if they did a skills inventory to find out what sort of labour force PMP cast adrift.

I wonder why the unions did not think they way some business people do: i.e., here’s a labour pool, where are the opportunities for work?

ESL is fine and good and necessary, but it doesn’t preclude progressive thought.

I wonder if the city couldn’t be persuaded, with the help of the unions, to let these women perfect their recipes for noodle production, and to develop a business plan, at the Incubator.

I was thinking these thoughts when Pauline dropped by. She used to be in Jeannie’s class, but she is a quick study and she got bumped up to an advanced class.

She said, “I’m going to lose my benefits in may. I don’t know where I’m going to turn. No one is hiring. The next stop for me should be Seneca, for food service.” it is likely that she won’t be able to afford the courses on her own.

Food services. Can she cook? She looked at me as if I was one of those guys who could not see what was right in front of him. “I make jerk chicken. I make oxtail.”

I said I was hungry for a more perfect world. Oxtail spring rolls, anyone?

Joe Fiorito usually appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Email: jfiorito@thestar.ca