The table at Little Kitchen Academy in West Point Grey is entirely silent except for a slow crescendo of metallic clattering as 10 small pairs of hands, each cuffed by a crisp white chef's jacket, work flour sifters over 10 identical mixing bowls. The chalkboard on the wall shows that today's recipe is for crumble pear muffins, and, flour sifted, the students rush to the back of the room to receive baking powder (a quarter teaspoon) in a ramekin. Everything at the academy feels like a miniature replica of a professional kitchen, from the stainless steel countertops to the glass-front produce refrigerator. But behind the queue of eight-year-old chefs, the mere modernity of the kitchen gives way to something plucked from science fiction.
Four large white bulbs attenuate up from the floor into an undulating column five feet high, ringed by floating circular lights that spread a soft spaceship glow over the classroom. Each bulge sprouts greenery—tumbling stems of spearmint, clusters of coriander and lettuce, soft hummocks of basil, feathery garlic chives, and pert cherry tomatoes. These herbs and vegetables will be incorporated into cooking when they are only a little larger. The seedlings, each in a small ball of soil, were planted a few weeks ago but are already filling out the back wall with foliage.
Read more at MONTECRISTO Magazine.