If we want a greener and more sustainable world, it begins with the choices we make in the kitchen. “Green food” is not just something folk high schools should brand themselves with – it is an educational journey we must take together with our students.
“At folk high schools we live off spiritual nourishment,” wrote the headmaster of Rødding Højskole to a concerned mother who thought her son was receiving too little and too dull food. That was back in 1845. Today, it only takes a few clicks on hoejskolerne.dk to see that the picture has been turned completely upside down.
Food has become an identity and brand. Short-course participants are tempted with menus such as “free-range pork tossed with bronze fennel and bergamot” and “locally grown berries with organic cream.” The vast majority of folk high schools highlight their food profile as local, green, vegetarian-friendly, and organic. And that makes perfect sense. Today, making green choices is no longer a niche – it is necessary in the green transition, which most folk high schools are fortunately engaged in. But we must look deeper, and at the folk high schools we must do what we do best – also when it comes to food: educating people through community, experience, and reflection.
It was with a certain trepidation that I, in September 2024, began my new job as a green chef at the International People’s College, where everything takes place in English. Not only were my large-scale kitchen skills perhaps a bit rusty after many years as principal at Suhrs, but even more so were my language skills. I am certainly no linguist – more of a “food ear” than a “language ear” – but I quickly realized that food is a nonverbal language, and therefore international and refreshingly easy to engage with. There are no language problems when we learn to cook Ukrainian borscht the way one of our students’ grandmothers made it. It is practical, shared learning that requires no language skills, but strengthens friendships and gives insights into our own habits and values.
Food connects. We feel this clearly at the International People’s College, where students from all over the world meet around the dining table. New scents and dishes often emerge in the kitchen – bibimbap, onigiri, or fattoush, hummus, and baba ghanoush – created together with students who share recipes and culture from their home countries. Shared food experiences can open doors. They awaken curiosity, introduce new tastes, and nourish the community – students explore with their senses, together.
This does not only apply to encounters between cultures but can just as easily be translated into encounters between Danes. When we provide students with food education, we also give them the opportunity to understand differences, habits, and values. Food choices say something about who we are – and by reflecting on them, it becomes clear that food education is also social education. Why do we choose as we do? Is it because it is easy, cheap, or “right”? Do all people have the same opportunities to eat and cook good food?
Food education does not happen simply through an event where folk high school students learn to cook a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Personally, I want students to come all the way into the kitchen – both figuratively and literally. Into the back room conversation, when we decide to drop the buffet because it creates too much food waste, and instead introduce social dining. Into the discussion about food waste and what we do with leftovers, and into the weekly count of how many kilos of good food end up in the container. Education arises when you are allowed into the engine room and can feel the consequences of your choices.
Students should not just learn to cook – they should learn to taste, to reflect, and to understand why food choices matter in a world on fire. How do you make green food that really tastes good? What does it cost to make? Both economically, but also in terms of the earth’s resources? And how time-consuming is it to cook mushroom risotto compared to pasta with meat sauce? The knowledge and experiences they gain in the folk high school kitchen can reach far – perhaps even across generations – and this is how folk high schools become frontrunners for change, which is part of our raison d’être. The focus on green, organic, and locally grown food should not just be a part of the schools’ brand and value set, but become a shared experimental space. If we want to make a difference, students must be in the kitchen, and the learning they get with their hands – and the meal we enjoy together – I believe is SO MUCH UBAK, whether it counts officially or not!
Food education is not formally part of the International People’s College’s value foundation, but a fair distribution of the world’s resources certainly is. And the food we choose to eat is a tangible place to start. This does not happen without resistance. Nothing is more closely tied to culture, tradition, and habits than what we eat, and we clearly sense students’ resistance.
We have just received evaluations that say: “I wanna eat more meat” or “this food is too healthy – I want chicken nuggets.” Such comments are unavoidable when you go all in on green food and serve it to 110 students from more than 30 nationalities. But the comments are, after all, fewer than in the previous semester. Soon, our third group will begin their green food journey, and no doubt, as in past semesters, we will probably see students organize a petition to get more meat on the table.
Food is much more than nutrition, and precisely experiencing that resistance and entering into dialogue – that is GOOD folk high school form!
The article is written by our ‘green chef’, Lars Sonne, for the Højskolebladet in Autumn 2025.