Free Financing Our Foodshed by Carol Peppe Hewitt Page A

contract administrator. Their intention was to buy some land, get jobs in their fields and settle into a “fun life” in North Carolina.
    But life took a different turn.
    Angelina’s welcoming smile. Credit: Bett Wilson Foley
    When Angelina heard that nearby Chatham County residents were being invited to take part in a “walkability study” for downtown Pittsboro, she was intrigued. She was interested in urban planning as a possible career path, and this sounded like a way to make some “town planning” connections in Chatham.
    As it turned out, there were so many “walkers” that we were split into teams to cover various sections of town. So, one pleasant Saturday morning, I found myself strolling around Pittsboro with this delightful, engaging Greek woman who I had only just met. Lesley Landis, the mayor’s wife, was also with us. We looked around, scribbling on our evaluation forms the innumerable good ideas we had for improving our small town. We had a marvelous time, and Angelina and I have been friends ever since.
    It was typical Angelina: Because she didn’t know anyone yet, she brought along some of her homemade spinach pies that day. She and I share a similar cultural style. Going somewhere and meeting new people? Bring food. And of course, they were yummy — the real deal, not the frozen packaged kind, and I asked if she ever made them to sell. She was open to that idea, and I put in an order for our upcoming Pottery Kiln Opening Weekend. Lesley wanted some as well, so Angelina found herself with a couple of “catering orders.”
    This led to several more “spinach pie gigs,” as folks around town got a taste of her talents, and thus “the humble beginning,” as she calls it, of Angelina’s Kitchen. She was coaxed into running a small Greek food stand at a local event called Fishy Friday. After only a few Fridays, people were begging her to take it up a notch and open a restaurant. When a spot opened up a block from the center of town, she and John bravely took it.
    “John was working as a surveyor when we found a spot in Pittsboro to start the kitchen,” Angelina laughed as she told me their story. “I asked John to leave his job to help design and build out the kitchen... and the poor guy has never had a chance to go back.”
    Starting out, they ran just a take-out counter, but when the space opened up next door, John cut out a hole in the wall (an arch, to be accurate), and a much requested seating area soon appeared.
    I knew the initial upfit had taken most of their savings. When I saw that she was expanding, I was concerned. I felt partially responsible for encouraging her to take on this business venture, and it seemed only fair to offer help. Our Slow Money project was in its infancy, having done only one loan so far. But if anyone deserved affordable capital, it was Angelina. From the time she started making those spinach pies, she had looked to local farmers to source as many ingredients as she could. For her, working with small local farmers was instinctual — or cultural — or both.
    One day, I went in after lunch and sat down with a question. Do you need money to help with this expansion? Because she and John had not lived in the area for long, and neither had salaried positions, bank financing for the restaurant (or even a line of credit on their house) was out of the question. So, they had put the expansion costs on their credit cards and planned on making interest-only payments until the business grew.
    They were paying 18% interest. I was sure we could do better than that. We settled on just a few percent, and I made my own first Slow Money loan. It was a great place to start. Gary Thompson, who had been on board since the birth of our Slow Money project, and who also knew Angelina, joined in with a similar loan. Together, we were able to bring her monthly payments down to just a third of what they had been, and that included principal and interest.
    Our loan also stopped those