One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
It’s 9:30pm on a Tuesday outside an undisclosed supermarket on the edge of Sutton Place, where a group of 10-15 “Freegans” have gathered for a two-week “trash trip” to dive for salvageable food and other goods.
Wearing masks and gloves, these urban foragers – who cover many regions, professions and age groups from 20 to 60 – distribute cans in the hope of finding them. garbage dump.
A far cry from the Matterhorns of rotting garbage depicted in the movies, these trash cans contain a wealth of items that look like they were pulled from a NYC department store — because it wasn’t that long ago.
One dumpster diver rescues unusual packages of organic guacamole.
Some junk bread rescues unblemished sliced loaves.
Others rummage through packages of grocery-grade salmon, farmer’s market value produce, and a few quarts of heavy cream that can sell for up to $10 a pop.
Expedition leader Janet Kalish, 63, even lamented, “I’m sure I missed a lot of eggs and mushrooms.”
“I got a bunch of blood oranges here,” added Cindy Rosin, who advises garbage collectors to sniff the rotting material when it’s opened to make sure it’s safe to eat.
Despite dumpster diving being a common practice, the savvy scavengers refused to divulge details about their lives, including what they do for a living – or if they work at all.
These “good can collectors” work quickly, given the short window between when trash is dropped off at supermarkets and when it’s picked up. On the other hand, this increases the chances that their barrel deal is fresh.
“Stores might put out at 9:00 at night so the trucks arrive at 11:00,” Kalish, who has memorized pickup times for his various dive sites, told The Post. “It’s not like it always smells.”
He added that even between 9:30 and 10 p.m. in the “hot” summer, people can hold a yogurt and feel “still cold.”
Kalish has dedicated his life to spreading the message of NYC Freegans, grassroots organization whose members seek to reduce waste by reclaiming and redistributing discarded goods.
They’re spreading the gospel with a free “trash walk” that people can sign up for on Meetup and it covers almost the entire city save the Bronx and Staten Island.
Dive sites are chosen by trial and error based on factors such as location, accessibility of trash, and the quality and variety of junk, with the malls proving to be the most profitable.
However, Freegans never lead tours in the same place twice to avoid running into “people who depend on this food as their food,” according to Kalish, who also dives solo.
Fortunately, anyone can be a Freegan, he said. “It’s not like we have a set of rules and a strong mandate to tell people who you are and who you are not,” the dumpster dive instructor explained to The Post. “If someone wants to call themselves a freegan, welcome to the world.”
The focus on trash isn’t the only feature either, as they also host craft salons that focus on turning discarded items into art, and free collective events where junk divers enjoy the fruits of their labor.
A former teacher for 29 years, Kalish attended her first Freegan meeting in 2004 after hearing that people were saving a lot of money by getting free food. Reluctantly at first, a junkie trainer becomes addicted after joining a junkyard.
Now, Kalish estimates that he was able to retire early without facing “financial hardship” in part because he supplements more than 90% of his diet with salvaged goods.
“I don’t spend a lot of money,” Kalish told The Post. “My food comes out for free.”
And the leader of the Free-gan world isn’t the only one riding in the tin wagon. Once a taboo pastime, trash-to-table food has never been more popular, thanks in part to the rise of “dumpster diving” bin-fluencers.
Anna Sacks, known as “The Trashwalker,” has amassed over half a million Instagram followers with powerful videos showing him holding a cornucopia of empty gems.
In one of his most popular clips with more than 5 million views, a trash hauler takes out a Halloween haul of Twix, Snickers and other candies from a CVS bin.
Another shows him whipping up a Hurom H-AA Rose Gold Slow juicer and accessories that retail for around $500.
The dumpster diving craze couldn’t come at a better time.
American consumers are struggling with forcedly high food costs as grocery prices rose only 2.9% in April compared to a year ago due to inflation caused by the Iran war..
Kalish extolled that many people use Freeganism as an “effective way to get out of debt” and “survive in New York City.”
Along with earning valuable points, dumpster divers strive to expose so-called corporate excesses in the hope that more edible goods are redirected to those in need.
According to RTS.com, the US wastes about 120 billion pounds – more than any other country – which includes about 40% of the world’s food supply.
“Food is thrown out because our system is flawed and it’s natural in our system to waste this type of food, this amount,” a waste hauler told The Post as he bemoaned the waste. “And this is one store overnight and when you think about all the thousands of stores in the city and how much money is being wasted, not only this city, but this country.”
A retrieval specialist explained that new inventory will often have problems because stores need more shelf space.
“They put in new belts so that anything that fits on the shelf can be put there and taken off, not because they are bad, but because they just remodel them,” he said.
And it’s not just bare necessities that get thrown away.
Gil, an environmental teacher, told The Post that he rescued six wheels of imported cheese worth about $450 each from a “cold storage facility.”
“I had Ikea bags [of the stuff],” recounts the repast recycler, who usually dives alone but came along for the ride.
When Gil first moved to the city in 2010, “the old man” showed him a place outside an industrial bakery in Long Island City that catered to luxury hotels. He said it contained “three coals of really high-quality artisanal bread.”
“If you go early in the morning, it’s still warm, it’s fresh,” he explained. “They bake as much money as they can get all day and wrap everything they order.”
“You can live a luxurious life out of a landfill,” said Gil. “You have to drop your ego and step into the waters of abandonment.
Along with haute cuisine, many can find expensive electronics, where Kalish remembers finding a mint-condition laptop and accessories during one dorm dive.
Despite this market exclusion, many people are reluctant to embrace Freeganism. Kalish explained that many people tend to think that anything that comes out of the trash is “dirty” in nature.
Some of the concerns are valid – no one wants food poisoning from a dubious filet of salmon – but the experienced rummager believes most fears are overblown.
“I don’t end up eating things carelessly even though they are out of date,” said Kalish noting that people can see mold, smell when food is spoiled and check the dates.
If meat is mixed with fruit, he does not “like” to eat it.
Thankfully, few dumpster divers claim to suffer ill effects from dumpster dining. As Cooper Union grad Violet Caleca put it succinctly during the trip, “I’ve been eating garbage bagels for five years and I haven’t gotten sick.”
Thankfully, dumpster diving is generally legal in NYC – which is why they’re allowed to lead public trash tours – as long as participants don’t trespass into fenced areas, which are often more common elsewhere.
The biggest concern, Rosin said, is that store managers will be ticketed or fined because surfers leave a mess. “When people tear through bags and stuff, they get angry,” he said.
That is why Freegans take pains to “open [the bag] in a knot,” tie everything up and “leave it cleaner than we found it,” Kalish explained.
Ultimately, he believes the best way to win converts is for them to see for themselves.
During the walk, a few college students who had been watching from the sidelines finally stepped in, filling bags with flowers and fresh fruit that would otherwise have ended up in a landfill.
“[Spectators] I often stop and say ‘what is this? Can I get something?” Kalish said.
