The IMPACT Magazine Volume 2
Feeding A Sense of Place
How tourism can help rebuild our connection to the land
By Izabela Jaroszynski
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Estimated read time: 8 minutes ↓
A group of young students are all set to gather potatoes at Prairie Gardens, an award-winning agri-tourism business located north of Edmonton.
But instead of looking at the green plants at their feet, they are looking up in the sky for trees. Farm owner Tam Andersen has to laugh.
"I say to them, 'no, no, it's these things here, those green plants,'" Tam says. "And then they pull them out and there's no potatoes because they don't know you have to dig them."
When the children finally unearth the potatoes, the joy is immediate.
"Those beautiful little gems, they might as well be gold nuggets coming right out of the earth," Tam says. "And they are asking, 'can I take one home? Can I show my mom?'"
The moment is a reminder of how disconnected many of us have become from the origins of our food. Most of us encounter it at the end of its journey — in grocery stores or restaurants — far removed from the land, labour, and knowledge that made it possible.
That disconnect presents a challenge for regenerative food systems, which depend not only on healthy soil and biodiversity, but also on people understanding, valuing, and supporting the farmers, producers, and communities behind their food.
Can tourism help bridge that gap?
Food has long been one of tourism's most powerful tools for connecting visitors to place. Travellers seek out farm dinners, culinary trails, local ingredients, and regional specialties in the hope of experiencing something authentic.
But regenerative tourism asks a deeper question: beyond connecting visitors to a meal, can tourism help connect them to the land, people, and traditions that made that meal possible?
For Tam, the answer is yes.
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Prairie Gardens is celebrating its 70th anniversary in 2026, a milestone deeply tied to the work of its founder, John Chedzoy. A former forester, John was responsible for planting millions of trees in the province, Tam says.
Today, visitors to the farm walk in the shade of elms and pines John planted decades ago. This multigenerational impact is a living example of regeneration: a gift of shade and shelter from the past that continues to sustain the present.
Over the last four decades, Tam has helped grow the family farm into a year-round destination known for its U-pick experiences, community-supported agriculture program, school visits, seasonal events, and Indigenous-led healing forest initiatives.
The farm certainly grows food. But increasingly, its work is about helping people understand where food comes from and making the connections between the food on our plate and the work in the fields.
She sees it every day.
One young girl visiting the farm had a baby goat leap into her lap and immediately broke into a grin.
"I call it the first-timer smile," Tam says. "It's the first time in their lives they've ever experienced a connection with an animal."
Those moments may seem small, but Tam believes they matter.
"What I really noticed is that people want to slow it down a bit," she says. "This pace of life that we are living now is unsustainable."
The experiences she creates are about more than education. They are about helping people feel connected to a place and, in turn, feel capable of caring for it.
While global climate news can often feel overwhelming, Tam finds that encouraging small, tangible actions — planting a tree, growing a potato, leaving a dandelion for the bees — helps visitors feel they have the power to make a difference.
"And when people have a chance to actually experience the food harvest and living on the land, they want to protect that space for future generations," she says.
Tourism's role isn't simply to showcase local food. It is to create the conditions for people to build a relationship with the land that sustains it.
"Understand that intrinsically the story of the land is the most important piece," she says. "It takes a lot of experience to understand that your story has equal value to the products that you grow or the food that you sell."
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More than 5,000 kilometres away in Newfoundland and Labrador, Chef Alex Blagdon is working toward a similar goal.
Tam reconnects visitors with the landscapes that produce food, Alex reconnects them with the people behind it.
As Culinary Director at The Cape in Cape Broyle, Alex works closely with farmers, fishers, foragers, and producers to create culinary experiences rooted in place.
Like Tam, she believes food can be a powerful way to reconnect people with the systems that sustain them.
"It's such an important piece to educate your guests on where your food comes from," she says. "It's not enough to say it came from a local farm. You have to talk about who the people are that are growing it for you because of the immense amount of work that goes into it."
To build those stories, she spends time with the people behind the ingredients.
"You can't tell a story about someone you don't know," she says.
She visits farms, learns about growing practices, and invites producers to dine at her table.
At The Cape, those relationships become part of the guest experience. Meals are opportunities to introduce visitors to the people behind the ingredients and the stories behind the food. Hospitality becomes a gateway into the culture, history, and evolving food traditions of Newfoundland and Labrador.
"I think the biggest catalyst that has come with using local ingredients and working with locals to create these menus has been the storytelling aspect of it," she says.
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Regenerative food tourism begins with a simple shift in perspective.
"As a traveler, I think it's very important to look for somewhere that is giving you that story, giving you that sense of place, that connection," she says.
That connection matters because food traditions are not guaranteed to survive.
"I think that people really underestimate how important it is to keep that story alive," she says. "Food traditions are a craft at risk here in Newfoundland. And the more that we just go sit down, eat and leave without getting involved in the experience, the easier it is for that to get lost."
Supporting those stories means supporting the people, and the ecosystem, behind them. That ecosystem includes farmers, fishers, foragers, processors, chefs, and communities. It includes traditions passed down through generations and new ideas emerging from the next generation of producers.
Regeneration is not about preserving food culture unchanged, Alex says, because food systems, like communities themselves, are living things.
New crops are being grown. New residents are bringing their own culinary traditions to the province. New producers are experimenting and expanding what Newfoundland and Labrador's food identity can be.
"One thing that I'm really learning is that when it comes to hyperlocal food, it's always evolving," she says. "What your food identity is today doesn't mean that that has to be your identity forever."
She adds: "Static might be sustainable, but it's not regenerative."
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Both Tam and Alex see tourism as having a role to play in that evolution, helping travellers move from passive consumers to active participants.
At The Cape, it might look like a guest sitting down for a meal and leaving with more than a full stomach. When visitors take an interest in the people and traditions behind their food, they help create demand for the stories, skills, and knowledge that keep local food cultures alive.
At Prairie Gardens, that might look like a child discovering where potatoes come from and bringing that story home. What begins as wonder can grow into appreciation for local farmers, support for local food, and a deeper understanding of the landscapes that sustain both.
"You give to the land, the land gives something back and you share," Tam says. "And that's how you have leadership in environmental change and in climate change and making people feel like they have agency again in their lives."
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