On Cork's Northside, between the five-a-side pitches and a quiet meditation garden, a small shop has begun to take root where leftover land once lay idle. The Glen Market, the city's first social supermarket, offers larder staples, surplus food and fresh organic produce grown by the neighbourhood itself, asking modest weekly fees that return entirely to the project. Its quiet ambition, shaped by a health worker who once tended the garden, is less to feed everyone in need than to make food a shared, dignified part of local life. In a country where hunger often hides behind shame, it is a modest
Cork's Glen Market Grows Food Culture From a Community Garden on Former Waste Ground
Orphan spaces now yield a remarkable range of organic produce
Mark
Why does it matter that the vegetables come from the garden rather than a supplier?
Mimi
Because the produce is grown a few yards from the shop, by people from the same community. It's what the author says is unusual in Ireland, and possibly anywhere.
Luke
"Possibly anywhere" is the author's own guess, though. It's a column, not a survey, so I'd treat it as an impression.
Mark
What are members actually paying?
Mimi
€10 a week for families and €5 for single parents, and all of it goes back into the project.
Luke
We don't know how many members there are, or how much the garden yields, or how much of the stock is garden produce versus surplus. The piece doesn't say.
Mark
Why avoid the term social supermarket?
Mimi
Barry Hickey wants to lessen the stigma. Calling it a market makes it sound like an ordinary shop.
Luke
Fair, but the piece offers no evidence yet that the stigma has actually eased. That's the intent, not a result.
Mimi
And the author is upfront about limits. It won't feed everyone, and Hickey says they're still learning.
El Pulso
- A neighbourhood food-aid shop has to meet real need while avoiding the stigma that keeps people away from help.
- Weekly fees of €10 for families and €5 for single parents keep the shop running, with all income flowing back into the project.
- Fresh produce from the Glen Resource Centre's garden, alongside redistributed surplus, gives members a steady route to vegetables and staples.
- Cooking classes, recipe tips and a WhatsApp group keep members connected, and the shop is gradually becoming a community food hub.
- Its organisers openly admit it cannot feed everyone who needs it, and they are still learning as they work toward lasting change.
On Cork's Northside, between the five-a-side pitches and a quiet meditation garden, a small shop has begun to take root where leftover land once lay idle. The Glen Market, the city's first social supermarket, offers larder staples, surplus food and fresh organic produce grown by the neighbourhood itself, asking modest weekly fees that return entirely to the project. Its quiet ambition, shaped by a health worker who once tended the garden, is less to feed everyone in need than to make food a shared, dignified part of local life. In a country where hunger often hides behind shame, it is a modest act of rebuilding trust one shared meal and one bed of greens at a time.
On the edges of the five-a-side pitches at the Glen Resource Centre on Cork's Northside, raised beds have been spreading for years. Volunteers and workers tend the awkward corners while games carry on nearby, and the site now grows organic fruit and vegetables alongside a greenhouse, a young orchard, a composting zone and a small meditation garden.
From that garden came The Glen Market, Cork's first social supermarket. Barry Hickey, a community health worker with the Health Action Zone who once led the garden, spearheaded it with support from the HSE. The tiny shop on the ground floor sells larder staples, redistributed surplus and fresh produce grown on site. Families pay €10 a week, single parents €5, and every cent returns to the project.
Similar shops already operate in Britain and Northern Ireland, and in Mulhuddart in North Dublin, but many of them ask members to meet eligibility rules or join money-management programmes. The Glen Market takes a gentler approach. Hickey avoids the term "social supermarket" because of the stigma it can carry, and the shop is simply known by its name.
The columnist Joe McNamee, who still plays football there, is clear-eyed about its limits. It will not feed everyone who needs it, and nobody should expect it to. Still, he believes it can shift attitudes and help build a food culture that nourishes people. Hickey admits they are still learning, but the goal is steady: a regular, dignified route to good food for local households.
On the fringes of the five-a-side pitches at the Glen Resource Centre, on Cork's Northside, raised beds have been quietly spreading for years. The columnist Joe McNamee, who still plays football there, watched them appear on scraps of land between the enclosed courts and the neighbouring Glen Park, with volunteers and workers tending the awkward nooks while games went on beside them.
Those leftover spaces now produce a wide range of organic fruit and vegetables. The site also holds a canteen and meeting space, a greenhouse, a newly planted orchard and a dedicated composting zone. A potting shed is wedged in at one end of a corridor between pitches, and in another secluded corner there is a meditation garden ringed with acers and silver birch.
Out of that garden has come The Glen Market, described as Cork's first social supermarket. It was spearheaded by Barry Hickey, a community health worker with the Health Action Zone, who once led the community garden. The HSE and its Health Action Zone initiative have given additional support.
The shop stocks larder staples and redistributed surplus food. McNamee says what sets it apart in an Irish context, and possibly globally, is that its fresh produce comes from the community garden. Families pay a weekly fee of €10 and single parents pay €5. All the income goes back into the project.
Social supermarkets already exist in Britain and Northern Ireland. Members there pay a small weekly fee, usually under £10, and choose their own goods. Stock typically comes through partnerships with food surplus charities, local businesses and donations, and community organisations run the shops with state funding. In the UK, members must meet eligibility criteria and commit to programmes on debt and money management, welfare entitlements and budget cooking, as well as other modules such as vocational training and childcare guidance. In the South, the Empower Social Supermarket in Mulhuddart, North Dublin, was the first of its kind. It is a partnership between the Empower Child & Family Hub, Co-Operative Housing Ireland and the surplus food charity FoodCloud.
The Glen Market is a tiny shop on the ground floor of the centre, and it is becoming what it was meant to be: a community food hub. People can learn about the produce on offer and pick up tips and recipes for cooking it. Elsewhere in the centre there are weekly community cooking classes, and a WhatsApp group keeps members up to date on stock and activities. The garden stays at the heart of it all.
Hickey tends to avoid the label "social supermarket" because of the stigma that can attach to such programmes, which is why the name is simply The Glen Market. The aim is a regular, accessible route to fresh produce and staples for local households.
McNamee is realistic about scale. The market will never feed everyone in the community who could use it, and he says nobody should expect that. Access to fresh, nutritious food is a fundamental human right, he writes, but delivering it will take forces far more powerful than a shop in a community centre. What it can do, he argues, is change hearts and minds. Hickey admits they are still learning, but his stated aim is clear: to grow a sustainable, life-affirming food culture in the neighbourhood.
Citas Notables
The Glen Market will never feed everyone it could be feeding, but it can change hearts and minds.— Joe McNamee, Irish Examiner columnist (paraphrase)
Quieres la nota completa?
Lee el original en Irish Examiner ↗