










































I Never Promised You a Learning Garden 
Critical Reflections on the Ill-Timed Launch and Uncertain Future of a Fast 
Food Outreach Project in Orlando, Florida 
By: Ty Matejowsky 

 
In this article, I consider the complexities and contradictions that characterize the recent launch of a 
Chipotle Mexican Grill community outreach project in Orlando, Florida from both a reflexive and 
autoethnographic perspective. Specifically, I document a local gardening advocate’s efforts to develop 
and operate a chain-affiliated learning garden near the campus of the University of Central Florida 
(UCF) where I work as an Associate Professor of Anthropology. Over subsequent pages, relevant 
biographical information collected through interviews and other data elicitation techniques is 
presented alongside my own personal observations in an effort to more fully delineate the actors and 
events at the center of this burgeoning and recurrently problematic partnership. 

Paying particular attention to the various challenges that have beset the collaboration almost from its 
outset, this work adds critical depth to current understanding about new directions in community and 
urban gardening. It similarly probes the efficacy of these local approaches both for project 
stakeholders and the wider community. While findings presented in the following sections are arguably 
as theoretical as they are data-driven, they, nevertheless, provide new insights into what happens 
when corporate fast food aligns itself with local food interests as a form of public outreach. At a 
deeper level, they help unpack some of the discursive dimensions that characterize ethical food 
consumption amid the foregrounding of individual agency and other neoliberal solutions to food issues 
related to the public good. 

In many ways, this work highlights some of the tensions that characterize recent academic debates 
within cultural food scholarship about the utility of individual agency in (re)shaping or descaling 
aspects of today’s industrial food economy into something more environmentally sustainable and 
nutritionally sound (Koch 2012:3). Significantly, it appears that food scholars are of two minds when it 
comes to assessing the effectiveness of such individual activism in response to the entrenched 
hegemony of the global agro-food apparatus. Some argue that informed consumers are vital to 
correcting or effectively mitigating ongoing asymmetries within various sectors of industrial food 
production including corporate fast food (Halwell 2004, Lockie 2002). 

Shopping at farmers’ markets, buying organic products, and supporting community agriculture are but 
some of the approaches that “citizen-consumers” can utilize to affect real change within the agro-food 
system (Johnston 2008). Others question the utility of such consumer activism as it is increasingly 
articulated within corporatized contexts (Koch 2012:3). That is, rather than pursuing individual agency 
as a viable means to ameliorate problems within the current food system, these scholars call for a 
reengagement of the state through increased regulation and more active involvement promoting the 
public good (Roff 2007). Out of these debates emerges a real need for reflexive and 



(auto)ethnographically based studies that examine the lived experiences of those engaging corporate 
entities as they work towards of a transformed and more locally responsive global food system. 
 

Chipotle and Ethical Food Consumption 

The role of the state in promoting the public good has steadily eroded over recent decades as 
neoliberal ideologies that emphasize individual agency, markets, and private interests over 
government-based solutions to ongoing social concerns continue to gain ground within the U.S. and 
other parts of the world. Various segments of the global political economy have been affected by this 
prevailing hegemonic regime including the industrial food sector (McMichael 1994). As corporations and 
other private enterprises become more assertive in shaping the discursive conditions through which 
notions of ethical food consumption are articulated (Kolleck 2013), state interests are rendered 
seemingly less accountable in championing such matters of public good (Soper 2007). By the 2010s, 
state involvement in the agro-food system has declined to the point where consumers now arguably 
privilege “corporate knowledge” on what constitutes ethical consumption over other more traditional 
sources (Johnston and Szabo 2011). 

This privileged position, however, does not preclude a reassertion of state intervention over corporate 
food interests as recent developments within the U.S. fast food industry suggest. In response to 
mounting public pressure and the looming possibility of new government regulation, many leading 
restaurant chains have taken modest to significant steps over recent years to shed their image as 
purveyors of questionable food sourcing practices and unhealthy eating habits. Consumers and 
policymakers have become increasingly attuned to the ill-effects of corporate fast food at both the 
individual and societal level, thanks in part to the mainstream success of critical exposés such as 
journalist Eric Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal (2001) and 
filmmaker Morgan Spurlock’s Super Size Me (2004). This newfound awareness about fast food’s 
contributive role in rising “globesity” (Matejowsky 2009) and widespread environmental degradation 
(Robbins 2011:199-201) has, among other things, compelled quick-service eateries like McDonald’s to 
alter or refocus aspects of their operations to better align with shifting public sentiments. Whether it is 
offering healthier dining selections in popular kids’ meals, showcasing calorie information on restaurant 
menu boards, or phasing out controversial sales tactics such as over-augmenting portion sizes for 
nominal price increases (i.e., “supersizing”), today’s fast food industry has made appreciable strides, 
however calculated or dubious, towards rehabilitating its public image amid ongoing levels of scrutiny. 

Against this backdrop of market repositioning and corporate strategizing, it is important to recognize 
that not all quick-service eateries have necessitated such major rebranding efforts. In fact, some 
restaurant chains have emerged well ahead of the curve when it comes to crafting a positive public 
identity based around ethical business practices. Perhaps no quick-service restaurant exemplifies this 
tendency better than Chipotle Mexican Grill, a fast casual taquería launched in 1993 by Culinary 
Institute of America graduate Steve Ells and known for its assembly-line production of gourmet-style 
tacos, burritos, and salads. With over 1,400 outlets operating across North America and Europe, the 



Denver-based Chipotle is widely recognized as an industry leader committed to natural and organic 
ingredients, sustainable food sourcing practices, and fair labor standards (Bittman 2013). 

Such perceptions persist even as some disconnect remains between the company’s principled stance of 
“Food with Integrity” and its track record of managing the day-to-day logistics of a successful 
restaurant chain. While Chipotle has sometimes fallen short of its well-publicized corporate ethos, 
especially with regards to supply chain labor issues (Klein 2011), its innovative approach to producing 
fast casual Mexican food demonstrates that quick-service eateries can still earn sizable profits without 
relying exclusively on industrial agribusiness and America’s factory farm system. 

The restaurant’s progressive business model resonates with many non-traditional fast food customers, 
especially those urban, web-savvy college types who also appreciate the restaurant’s austere 
postmodern aesthetic and sometimes quirky promotions. In much the same way that supermarket giant 
Whole Foods Market both “articulates a discourse of ethical consumption” (Johnston 2008) and 
maintains a loyal following of health conscious and environmentally-minded shoppers who do not mind 
paying a little extra for natural or organic products, so too does Chipotle retain a dedicated base of 
consumers who crave relatively inexpensive on-the-go meals that do little to compromise their left-
leaning political sensibilities. In short, by offering a quick casual dining alternative to the seemingly 
identical corporate burger joints that continue to dominate the industry, Chipotle fills a viable market 
niche for those for whom conventional fast food is too boring, too tasteless, or too heavily enmeshed 
with the interests of agribusiness and factory farms. 

Chipotle’s ability to differentiate itself from the competition in this way appears essential to the 
company’s long term success. The company posted upwards of $3 billion in corporate earnings for 
2012, with fourth quarter sales up 17% from the same period in 2011 (Bittman 2013). Even as the field 
of fast casual Mexican eateries continues to expand nationwide, Chipotle is able to project a coherent 
brand identity that relies on ethical business practices almost as much as it does tasty food and fresh 
ingredients. While its more immediate rivals such as Qdoba, Baja Fresh, Taco Cabana, El Pollo Loco, 
and Moe’s Southwest Grill vie for market position by offering similar types of cuisine in comparable 
restaurant settings, their commitment to local food sourcing, organic and natural ingredients, and 
family farms does not approach that of Chipotle’s. So, even while America’s top-selling Mexican fast 
food brand Taco Bell now emulates aspects of Chipotle’s culinary prowess by creating artisan-style 
burritos and other fare that approximate Chipotle’s more sophisticated menu items (Brash 2012, Choi 
2013), the “Live Más” chain does little to surpass or even match Chipotle in terms of embracing 
sustainability. 

Chipotle’s forward-leaning cachet is articulated in various ways beyond those directly related to 
restaurant food sourcing and production. For example, the chain actively collaborates with like-minded 
organizations and individuals who share a common commitment to healthy and environmentally sound 
food practices. Chipotle has thrown its marketing muscle behind a number of causes or undertakings 
related to food sustainability at the national level. In 2008, the company helped promote the critically 
acclaimed documentary Food, Inc. which exposes the dark underbelly of America’s industrial food 



system and serves as a veritable touchstone for today’s Slow Food Movement. Chipotle not only 
distributed promotional material for the film in their restaurants, it also sponsored free theatrical 
screenings of the movie in over 30 major U.S. cities. More recently, Chipotle partnered with an Ohio-
based non-profit that promotes school nutrition and sustainable agriculture, “Veggie U,” to debut a 
comprehensive educational program that integrates experiential scientific exercises about food 
sourcing and vegetable gardening into existing elementary and special-needs curricula (Fast 
Casual.com 2012). In such ways, Chipotle, again not unlike Whole Foods Market, creates a space where 
important information about alternative food movements can be readily accessed by consumers 
(Johnston and Szabo 2011). 

At the local level, Chipotle also engages in public outreach by supporting community events and 
ventures that are consistent with its “Food with Integrity” principles. This includes sponsoring in-
restaurant school fundraisers, student essay contests, and neighborhood harvest festivals. Potential 
collaborators can pitch their ideas to company representatives through an online application on the 
corporate webpage. If approved, Chipotle provides applicants some type of material support or 
endorsement, usually with the understanding that the resulting partnership may be publicized in 
company marketing. In many ways, Chipotle represents the most logical choice for grassroots-level 
projects seeking small infusions of capital or corporate name recognition. Surely among all of the U.S. 
quick casual and fast food eateries operating today, no other restaurant chain has more credibility with 
those in the local food movement seeking capitalization than Chipotle. It is probably not that much of 
an overstatement, then, to suggest that Chipotle effectively serves as the go-to corporate sponsor for 
nearly all homegrown slow and ethical food events. 

One cause in which the chain has taken an active interest lately is community gardening. The 
conversion of vacant or underutilized land into productive spaces for vegetable cultivation, especially 
in urban areas or near Chipotle restaurants, is something the company increasingly embraces as it 
parallels Chipotle’s commitment to family farms and fresh produce. While by no means ubiquitous, 
Chipotle sponsored community gardens have recently cropped up in several large and mid-size U.S. 
cities including Dallas, Louisville, Denver, and St. Paul (Real School Gardens 2011). These agricultural 
plots are utilized primarily for educational purposes and do not supply Chipotle restaurants with fresh 
produce, as such practices would violate safety laws based around routine food inspections. Similarly, 
much, if not most, of the labor that goes into community garden construction and maintenance does 
not come from Chipotle employees, but is rather provided by local volunteers. A number of online 
profiles documenting these gardening projects’ development and featuring color photographs and 
commentary have appeared on various social networking sites such as Facebook (Daily City 2013). 

Creating community gardens in this way seems equally advantageous for all parties involved. For 
Chipotle, these ventures reinforce the company’s brand identity as the ethical and sustainable 
bellwether of quick-casual restaurants. For its local collaborators, the gardens not only offer a quaint 
venue for educating consumers about food origins, they also help foster community ties among 
participants as plots require continual upkeep, irrigation, and harvesting. When considered in tandem, 
it is easy to see how this kind of public outreach represents a win-win situation for Chipotle and its 



urban gardening counterparts. Yet, these increasingly publicized collaborations may lack genuine 
consensus as relations among stakeholders are also shaded by a certain degree of nuance that 
effectively belies such upbeat appraisals. In broader sense, they may reveal how state promotion of the 
public good on issues related to ethical food consumption has ceded ground to prevailing neoliberal 
ideologies whereby privatized and corporate interests are accorded greater currency in knowledge 
dissemination within the agro-food system. 

However mutually beneficial dealings between Chipotle and its community gardening partners 
ostensibly appear, they are also subject to various kinds of growing pains. Efforts to implement these 
learning projects, much less ensure their long term viability, are often susceptible to competing 
agendas that, if not directly at odds with one another, are certainly not always perfectly aligned. The 
subtle frictions that arise out of such incompatibilities, particularly those related to the collaboration’s 
future direction, can accrue and eventually stymie whatever forward momentum the ventures initially 
experience. In many ways, these minor rifts reflect the understated tensions that can emerge when 
corporate fast food intersects, however tangentially, with community agriculture at the local level. 
Negotiating this sometimes complex interplay raises some intriguing research questions for 
anthropologists, folklorists, sociologists, food scholars, and others interested in understanding how such 
seemingly disparate domains as quick-service restaurants and local food interests can coalesce and 
diverge over a common cause. 

Questions worth considering include how do fast casual eateries like Chipotle engage local groups in 
this type of community outreach or vice-versa? How do the complementary, if sometimes competing, 
interests of both sides develop over time, and who benefits the most from these unfolding 
partnerships? What, if any, are the drawbacks for local food groups for partnering with corporate 
chains at the grassroots level, given the industry’s longstanding association with unhealthy eating 
habits and unsustainable business practices? How do these projects ultimately impact the wider 
community in terms of enhancing food knowledge, health, and well-being? When considered 
altogether, these questions not only offer a viable starting point from which to begin exploring the new 
learning garden, they also call attention to the role of “consumer engagement with the corporatized 
arm of ethical consumption – a realm of concern to food scholars as alternative agricultural initiatives 
are absorbed (both materially and symbolically) into corporate institutions” (Johnston and Szabo 2011). 
 

Background 

As a matter of disclosure, my familiarity with this particular Chipotle location probably owes more to 
the fact that one of my former neighbors used to work there as a line cook than any regular patronage 
on my part. While I eat there rather infrequently, I still appreciate Chipotle’s “Food with Integrity” 
ethos and really enjoy their fresh menu offerings, especially the grilled steak tacos. That said, my 
campus commute along University Boulevard takes me right past this east Orlando Chipotle almost 
every day. With a clear street view of the learning garden effectively obscured by the restaurant’s 
bustling parking lot and mostly redbrick construction, I only first became aware of the project one 



evening in early February 2013, while dining with my family at a Steak 'n Shake located directly next 
door. 

From the vantage point of our red cushioned booth, I noticed what appeared to be some new 
development in a vacant lot behind the Chipotle. My view through the restaurant’s plate glass window 
was partially obscured by several parked cars and palmetto shrubs so I was initially unsure what had 
been constructed. Perhaps it was a special expansion of the Chipotle parking lot or more likely the 
groundwork for a new outdoor seating venue. Whatever this development entailed, it scarcely 
resembled anything previously established in this part of suburban east Orlando with its various working 
or middle-class neighborhoods, at least in terms of aesthetics or possible functionality. After dinner, 
my wife and I decided to amble over with the kids and take a closer look. 

A quick walk-around inspection revealed 12 raised garden beds enclosed by a simple wire fence. These 
individual plots were neatly arranged in four rows of three along a freshly laid carpet of shredded 
cypress mulch. With the notable exception of a blue plastic rain barrel stacked atop some cinderblocks 
in a corner nook, the garden’s symmetrical layout and handcrafted fixtures were all but elegant in 
their rustic simplicity (see Photo 1). I noticed that, unlike other urban agricultural spaces that I have 
seen, this one did not incorporate found and recycled objects such as old tires or wooden shipping 
pallets in its design. Rather, all building materials looked new, if only slightly weatherworn in 
appearance. Best I could tell, the modest tufts of leafy winter greens that sprouted out of the dark 
garden soil were the only produce currently under cultivation (see Photo 2). With a rich earthy aroma 
of organic compost tingeing the cool evening air, I quickly became intrigued by how this garden came 
to be, especially what possible role Chipotle played in its development. 

 

 
Photo 1: Chipotle Learning Garden, March 2013. 



 
Photo 2: Raised garden beds with winter greens, Chipotle Learning Garden, March 2013. 

What sparked my interest was not so much the surprise of finding a productive green space quietly 
nestled among the various chain eateries, retention ponds, and interchangeable office plazas that line 
this stretch of University Boulevard. Rather, my curiosity was piqued by the fact that this agricultural 
effort seemingly mirrored aspects of my ongoing ethnographic research in the provincial Philippines 
detailing the globalization of local foodways. Over the past several years I have documented 
manifestations of corporate fast food and community gardening initiatives in several urban centers 
across north-central Luzon. Among other things, this work has compelled me to consider how such 
operations emerge and retain their viability within various socio-cultural contexts including the U.S. In 
this way, the location of this Chipotle gardening project, only a mile or so from where I work, seemed 
too fortuitous not to explore it in more detail. 
 

No Garden-Variety Learning Garden 

As luck would have it, a local daily ran a feature on the Chipotle learning garden in its online edition 
about a week later (The Daily City 2013). My wife emailed me the link and I was surprised to find that 
the article was only a few paragraphs long. Despite its brevity, the piece was quite informative, 
especially since it contained an embedded three minute video detailing the project’s construction and 
underlying rationale. Professionally shot and edited, the video serves as much as a mission statement 
for the learning garden developers as it does a calling card for Chipotle’s community outreach efforts. 
When considered in retrospect, it is easy to see how viewers would perceive the project as having an 
auspicious future. 



Amid the soothing sounds of delicate acoustic guitar fingerpicking and images of compact bulldozers 
clearing brush and debris from the vacant lot behind Chipotle, I learned the following details from the 
video. First, the gardening project was conceptualized by “A Local Folkus" and constructed with the 
help of “My Yard Farm.” The former is an organization that, according to its website, is “dedicated to 
showcasing the work of musicians, artists, business owners, farmers, and other folks in the Central 
Florida area” (alocalfolkus.com 2013). The latter is an Orlando based firm that assists local businesses 
and homeowners with the planning and installation of vegetable garden plots in underutilized urban or 
suburban spaces. Second, the garden itself is comprised of organic fill soil and fertilized with 
mushroom compost. Third, garden plots are kept continually moist through a gravity-fed irrigation 
system that collects rainwater in a plastic barrel and distributes it without electricity to the raised 
beds through a network of PVC pipe and drip soaker hoses buried only a few inches beneath the soil. 
Fourth, the garden bins are constructed out of untreated cedar wood that is both rot resistant and 
designed to last upwards of ten years. 

Significantly, the video also includes commentary and sound bites from the project’s creator, John 
Riley, a community gardening advocate and natural foods entrepreneur of sorts who, among other 
things, launched several local initiatives and events in greater Orlando related to his “A Local Folkus” 
organization, including the Winter Park Harvest Festival and the East End Market (ibid). The latter is a 
multi-million dollar development entailing the conversion of a former two story office complex into a 
neighborhood market and cultural food hub in which Central Florida artisans and farmers can rent 
space to ply their wares to consumers. Probably what intrigued me most from the video were Riley’s 
comments about the learning garden’s overall purpose: 

to create a place where people can dialogue about… [food] issues. What does ‘Food 
with Integrity’ mean? [The Learning Garden is designed] to give Chipotle and… ‘A Local 
Folkus’ an opportunity to bring people into a space where we can show documentary 
films, where we can bring schools in for workshops, where we can do garden 
demonstrations. But [ultimately our goal is to] create a place where community 
engagement [can occur]. We have lost a lot of that in our hectic, fast paced world. But 
to take a chance to unplug and…get your hands dirty and really…wrestle with some of 
the issues of…sustainable farming and growing seasonally…gives [us] a much more 
profound respect for how food comes from field to plate. Our goal here is to basically 
make that a physical reality and we are super excited to be able to partner with 
Chipotle and ‘My Yard Farm’ to make that whole thing happen (Buffington 2013). 

After watching the video, I felt doubly compelled to find out more about the learning garden and 
Chipotle’s involvement with it. Since Riley is quite tech savvy about promoting all of his local gardening 
efforts, maintaining a considerable social media presence on sites like Facebook and Twitter, it was 
fairly easy to track down his contact information and email him my request for more information about 
the learning garden. Impressively, Riley got back to me in less than a day saying he would be happy to 
chat but that he was currently attending the Georgia Organics conference and had plans over the next 
few weeks to check out Birmingham, Alabama’s local food scene and meet with representatives from 



Southern Living magazine to discuss some of his work. If anything, his busy schedule confirmed my 
hunch that he was a real mover and shaker within Orlando’s natural food community. After a few more 
email exchanges, we agreed to meet for an informal tour of the learning garden one Friday afternoon 
in early March 2013. Our appointment coincided with UCF’s spring break, so not much was happening 
around campus or along University Boulevard’s belt of quick casual eateries. 
 

Who is John Riley? 

The weather was clear and surprisingly cool when I left campus to meet Riley at the nearby Chipotle 
learning garden. I arrived to find him unraveling a knotted water hose in the restaurant parking lot. 
Smartly attired in a Patagonia fleece, jeans, and desert boots, his understated appearance and stubble 
beard called to mind a dressed down Matt Damon or Brad Pitt. In many ways, Riley seemed to personify 
the forward-leaning, food conscious urbanite that Chipotle actively targets in its marketing and 
restaurant operations. The gardening equipment loaded in the back of his late model Ford pickup 
suggested nothing if not a hands-on approach to urban farming and a strong commitment to D.I.Y. 
community engagement. 

Over the next few hours Riley revealed details about his local roots and educational background as well 
as some of the influential events that steered him towards urban agriculture and natural foods 
advocacy. A graduate of Winter Park High School, Riley received a B.A. degree from Furman University, 
a private coeducational liberal arts college in South Carolina, in 1998. Twelve years later he earned an 
M.A. in Digital Media from UCF. Besides an ongoing interest in playing music and competing in 
triathlons, he has also traveled extensively overseas with trips to almost 40 countries including 
Malaysia, China, and Indonesia. With many varied interests and an extensive network of local contacts, 
Riley was well positioned to pursue any number of community outreach projects in the greater Orlando 
area. The fact that he ultimately pursued urban agriculture may reflect his ability to match a 
newfound sense of conviction with many of his skills and talents. 

It was Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals (2006) that inspired 
Riley to try his hand at organic gardening. Starting off small, he grew his first tomato plant from seed 
at home after reading this soon-to-be-classic. He then moved on to other cultivation projects over 
subsequent months, before shifting his energies to something more profound. Riley, never one to 
dream small, began conceptualizing a local food event that would eventually become the Winter Park 
Harvest Festival. His interests lie in making gardening appealing to everyone from “the penny loafer 
crowd to those who have full arm tattoos.” With no comparable festivities in this part of Central 
Florida, Riley was able use many of his local business connections to carve out an important niche 
within the regional organic food scene. The Winter Park Harvest Festival was launched in 2010 and has 
grown every year to become an important fixture on the greater Orlando social calendar. This success 
reflects his “big picture” entrepreneurial approach to local food advocacy. As he would later tell me, 
“I like to throw a lot of shit against the wall and see what sticks.” 



After introductions, I followed Riley to the restaurant’s patio area where he turned on a water spigot 
partially hidden behind some shrubbery along the building’s edge. He then hurried over to retrieve the 
now gushing tube from the asphalt and begin filling up the garden’s blue rain barrel. Once the 
streaming hose was firmly installed in the near empty container, we began walking around the site, 
discussing the recent challenges he has faced in keeping the project operational some six weeks after 
its initial debut. 

As we chatted I noticed that the undeveloped property just beyond the garden’s perimeter was strewn 
with trash and intermittent piles of unused mulch and soil, as if no one had tidied the place up in a 
while. Riley informed me that up until the January 2013 site renovation, the lot behind Chipotle served 
as a frequent campsite for local transients. Aside from the litter and materials left over from 
construction, the garden itself appeared fairly well-kept, although some of the plants seemed in better 
shape than others, possibly reflecting the lack of manpower to oversee operations. Open space in the 
garden’s center is sizable and, according to Riley, designed to accommodate benches and tents. Since 
the space is primarily designed for educational purposes, Riley has yet to determine what to do with 
the winter greens currently under cultivation, although donating them to Second Harvest, a local food 
bank that serves distressed Central Florida families, remains a distinct possibility. 

While I snapped pictures and jotted down notes, Riley did some weeding and other odd tasks around 
the garden, continually checking his iPhone and sometimes answering calls or texts about ongoing “A 
Local Folkus” projects. Clearly, he maintains a busy schedule, something he readily concedes by 
admitting to having “many plates spinning at once.” Since I originally envisioned our first meeting as 
something of a fact finding mission, I had not really prepared formal interview questions for Riley. 
Basically, I wanted to get a feel for him as a possible ethnographic informant and determine whether 
or not the Chipotle venture held real research potential. Riley’s passion for the learning garden as well 
as his other Orlando-area initiatives quickly convinced me that the undertaking did indeed have 
promise and that my best approach was probably to just let him speak. This decision proved astute as 
he soon brought me up to speed about the project’s background and current status. 

According to him, Chipotle agreed to capitalize the agricultural space with $6,000 of its own funds. 
Riley was well-situated to pursue such collaboration, both for his success as a local gardening advocate 
as well as the surprising amount of sway he already maintained over the site. The ground leases for 
many of the commercial properties located along University Boulevard, including those on which the 
Chipotle restaurant and neighboring Logan’s Steakhouse now stand, are held by Riley’s family. Since 
they also control the undeveloped acreage immediately behind the taquería, the transformation of 
some its underutilized parcels into a functional learning garden seemed promising for Riley, albeit not 
a foregone conclusion. The construction of a restaurant-affiliated garden at this location appeared 
mutually beneficial for various reasons. Not only did it reflect the chain’s “Food with Integrity” 
philosophy, it also paralleled other Chipotle’s community outreach projects around the country. 
Moreover, it provided groups like “A Local Folkus” an attractive and functional setting to engage locals 
in east Orlando about issues related to food sourcing and sustainable production. 



Rather than approach Chipotle online through its community outreach application, Riley was able to 
pitch the learning garden concept to the company in a more personalized way. Through his work with 
“A Local Folkus,” Riley had established a working relationship with Chipotle vis-à-vis the chain’s 
ongoing sponsorship of the Winter Park Harvest Festival. In particular, he developed a strong rapport 
with the Chipotle representative whose job entailed overseeing restaurant operations in Florida and 
across the U.S. Southeast. Their successful promotion of this annual event over a three year period 
helped cement the burgeoning partnership, laying the groundwork for future collaborations that reflect 
shared philosophies about organic foods and urban agriculture. Since Riley and the Chipotle 
representative got along so well professionally, they began contemplating new and innovative ways to 
expand this working relationship over the long term. 

Riley informed me that his decision to expand the partnership with Chipotle into something beyond 
their previous festival sponsorship was partially inspired by an animated Chipotle advertisement that 
debuted at the 2012 Grammy Awards. The “Back to the Start” commercial featured a Willie Nelson 
cover of the Coldplay song “The Scientist” and depicted the gradual transformation of a small family 
farm into a giant industrial factory farm before progressively reverting back to the original family 
operation. He showed me the two minute spot afterwards on his iPhone as we dined inside the 
restaurant. 

Beyond this well-received marketing effort, Riley was similarly influenced by Chipotle sponsored 
outreach projects in other major U.S. cities. One was the chain’s collaboration with “Truck Farm 
Tampa,” a community organization in nearby Tampa, Florida dedicated to promoting natural foods and 
urban farming at area schools through a mobile garden in the back of an orange pickup truck. The 
objectives of this educational program which include raising awareness about food origins are almost 
identical to Riley’s learning garden initiative. Another was Chipotle’s annual “Cultivate: Food, Ideas, 
and Music Festival.” This free public event is staged each summer in San Francisco, Denver, and 
Chicago and attracts thousands of D.I.Y. farmers, food conscious urbanites, innovative artisans, and 
indie musicians to celebrate healthy and environmentally sound food practices in a festive atmosphere. 
The success of these Chipotle-affiliated ventures seemed to bode well for his proposed gardening 
concept. 

By late fall 2012, the idea of a community learning garden on the vacant property had effectively taken 
shape. Riley noted that the project’s original goal was “just to get it built and figure out the 
operational aspects later.” This is almost precisely what happened as Riley secured the Chipotle 
funding and with the help of his “My Yard Farm” colleagues designed and constructed the agricultural 
space over several days in January 2013. The learning garden’s smooth installation which was 
documented rather optimistically in the three minute online video belied unforeseen developments 
that quickly called the project’s future viability into question. Indeed, the positive expectations that 
characterized much of the agricultural space’s planning would over time prove largely premature. 

Chipotle initially pledged around $200 in monthly wages for someone to oversee the agricultural plots. 
In effect, the chain would pay a garden hand to weed, irrigate, and maintain the space. This fell 



through when the Chipotle representative with whom Riley initially worked unexpectedly left the 
company for another job. Her abrupt departure, just as operations were getting underway, effectively 
brought learning garden activities to a standstill and placed the project, as Riley states, “in stasis.” 
Without a detail-oriented person in upper-management to advocate his vision about how the plots 
could best serve the interests of Chipotle, “A Local Folkus,” and the wider community, the learning 
garden’s future direction assumed a much less certain footing. Similarly, with his collaborator no 
longer around to help translate his aspirations about public outreach to company higher-ups, it seemed 
Chipotle was poised to disregard its initial investment in the project. 

As things currently stand, Riley is searching for ways to move forward with Chipotle to get operations 
back on track. It seems that the main sticking point involves questions about who will manage the 
garden over the long term. Riley is interested in securing more external funding in this regard or 
possibly rallying volunteer help from the nearby UCF community. The latter option appears somewhat 
more feasible as the university is Riley with student groups and organizations whose unpaid labor could 
go a long way towards rehabilitating the project. While the possibilities of providing such service 
learning opportunities to students holds potential, Riley has yet to find a viable UCF connection to 
broker such an arrangement. 

With his immediate attention focused on the fast approaching launch of the $3 million East End Market, 
the Chipotle Learning Garden has become increasingly relegated to the backburner for Riley. When I 
asked him if he is hopeful that the Chipotle project will ultimately succeed, he confirmed that he was 
indeed optimistic since he “has enough social capital” in greater Orlando to make sure that it doesn’t 
fail. In a follow-up email, he reiterated such sentiments by stating that the “media buzz” generated by 
the East End Market’s successful opening in fall 2013 could be effectively leveraged “to get some 
renewed interest in the Chipotle garden” (email to author, June 14, 2013). 

As if to illustrate the challenges Riley is now facing in breathing new life into the learning garden, a 
college-age Chipotle employee approached us as we were concluding our informal tour to nervously ask 
if Riley could stop watering. Evidently, customers were complaining that the hose filling up the blue 
rain barrel was only partially attached to the spigot, spraying the much of the outdoor seating with 
water. He directed us over to the side of the restaurant where, sure enough, a pair of mop-wielding 
wage-earners was awaiting the chance to attend to the patio which by now appeared drenched by 
artificial rainfall. Riley quickly switched off the valve. This awkward exchange compelled us to 
continue our chat inside the eatery over veggie burritos and iced tea. 

As we ate, Riley acknowledged that the complexities and contradictions of partnering with a fast 
casual corporate chain like Chipotle were not lost on him. Such self-awareness and individual 
reflexivity assumed particular depth as he readily admitted that some company practices are neither 
fully sustainable nor really all that appealing to environmentalists or local food activists. Basically, he 
stated that the shared interests between corporate chains and local gardening advocates like himself 
will never perfectly align. Despite these admitted incongruities, he is still committed to “moving the 
ball down the court,” viewing inaction on his own part as little more than a cop out. He drew very real 



distinctions between Chipotle and its fast food competitors, noting that at least the quick-casual 
taquería had embraced sustainable and environmentally conscious food from its inception, unlike 
chains such as McDonald’s, who were arguably compelled by public sentiment to adopt more pro-social 
practices. 

With our meeting concluded I headed back to campus to type up my field notes. The overall impression 
that I took away from this initial encounter with Riley was one of appreciation for his big picture 
approach to urban gardening and community engagement. Taking the initiative and seizing 
opportunities as they arise seems an essential aspect of his entrepreneurial style. Similarly, the ability 
to cultivate relationships with a variety of volunteer and commercial interests including corporate 
restaurant chains to develop projects and events that inform the public about the benefits of local 
foods and organic cultivation demonstrates a real knack for realizing his personal vision. 

In many ways, his background and business ties in Orlando and elsewhere leave him well positioned to 
get such schemes up and running. Doubtless, it takes someone with considerable initiative and grit to 
seek out new opportunities for promoting these issues, especially in communities where such 
undertakings are largely uncommon. Yet, I could not help but wonder if he risks becoming 
overextended with so many projects operating concurrently and at various stages of development. 
Whether or not his “if you build it, they will come” approach to the Chipotle learning garden will 
ultimately succeed was something I could not anticipate at this juncture. 
 

Growing Pains 

My daily commute along University Boulevard throughout spring and Issue 2 revealed little or no 
activity behind the Chipotle restaurant. Not only were there no grand opening or ribbon cutting 
ceremonies to commemorate the learning garden’s launch in the days and weeks that followed its 
construction, the space has, thus far, failed to host any community events or activities. Even online 
there has been a conspicuous lack of fanfare surrounding the endeavor, with no updates or information 
from “A Local Folkus” or Chipotle about recent developments in the project’s status. By nearly all 
outward appearances, it seems that efforts to get the learning garden fully operational have proved 
ineffective. 

When I stopped by the eatery to see how things were progressing in July 2013 some four months after 
meeting Riley, I was ill-prepared for the excessive overgrowth of intrusive plant life that awaited me 
out back (see Photo 3). Perhaps it was the inescapable effects of the oppressive summer heat, but the 
garden appeared decidedly less manicured with noticeably more weeds and fewer signs of tending. If 
anything, I was surprised by how much work and cultivation the plots now seemed to require. None of 
the raised garden beds had been harvested of greens and the mulch floor that blanketed the space was 
difficult to discern amid the dense clumps of weeds that pervaded the entire enclosure. Even the “My 
Yard Farm” banner attached to the wire fence near the garden’s gate appeared soggy and warped from 



prolonged exposure to the elements. Possibly the only real hints of progress were the large mounds of 
wood bark recently deposited on the garden’s overgrown periphery. 

 
Photo 3: Chipotle Learning Garden, July 2013. 

Despite my initial sense of optimism, it now seemed that the impasse confronting the learning garden 
collaborators had firmly taken root with no foreseeable way to capitalize on its construction other than 
Riley’s expectation that favorable East End Market publicity will subsequently resurrect the project. I 
suspect that this lack of forward progress can be attributed to a variety of factors rather than any one 
single issue. Of the two partners, it seems that Chipotle is the less committed as the company’s 
decision to green-light the agricultural space presumably entailed considerations not wholly aligned 
with community outreach. Rejecting a venture like this runs the risk of undermining the chain’s tenant 
status in the aforementioned ground lease agreement. With such an outcome arguably too impolitic to 
fully pursue, it seems reasonable to suspect that company support for the project was partially 
predicated on maintaining smooth relations with the owner of the property on which the restaurant 
stands. In this way, its start-up capitalization may have only seemed a small outlay for retaining such 
goodwill. 



Once the garden was built and the chain’s involvement initially publicized online and in print, Chipotle 
appeared to reevaluate its “A Local Folkus” affiliation, especially after the manager with whom Riley 
had originally collaborated left the company. Her unexpected departure effectively recast the learning 
garden into something of a pet project that only she seemed prepared to champion. Without her to 
assertively promote the agricultural space, detail its ongoing development to Chipotle colleagues, and 
shepherd it through the growing pains that arise amid new public outreach initiatives, the garden’s 
future assumed a much less secure footing. So much so, in fact, that subsequent communication 
between project collaborators became sporadic at best. It probably goes without saying that her 
pivotal role in the garden’s approval and advocacy for Riley cannot be overestimated in light of the 
struggles that have plagued the project following her exit. 

Beyond Chipotle’s apparent aversion to further collaboration, the current impasse confronting the 
learning garden presumably owes something to Riley’s continued involvement in multiple local 
projects. By dint of his ongoing work and volunteer commitments in and around Orlando, it seems 
almost inevitable that some of his obligations would take precedence over others. In this case, the 
learning garden has been persistently eclipsed by Riley’s responsibilities overseeing the Winter Park 
Harvest Festival and East End Market; a situation further complicated by the fact that he lacks viable 
partners or assistants to whom he can delegate various tasks. These large scale ventures have perhaps 
deservedly occupied most of his attention given their significant capitalizations and prominence in 
Central Florida’s growing organic food scene. Yet, if the continuing difficulties besetting the 
Riley/Chipotle collaboration are any indication, it is that more modest undertakings such as promoting 
and managing the learning garden also require a comparable amount of effort by all invested 
stakeholders. 

No less problematic is the learning garden’s location some distance away from Riley’s established 
sphere of influence in the more affluent Winter Park. Both the Harvest Festival and East End Market, 
along with many of his volunteer commitments, are situated in this former resort enclave which is 
known for its upscale shopping districts, Rollins College, and scenic homes nestled amid a series of 
picturesque lakes and navigable canals. Most of Riley’s success has been concentrated in and around 
this exclusive Orange County suburb. By contrast, the Chipotle agricultural space is located over ten 
miles away in a former vacant lot that lacks clear curbside visibility for drivers on University Boulevard 
and seems rather far removed from Winter Park’s ambience and aesthetic charm. With work and 
volunteer obligations that only sometimes require his presence in the UCF area, Riley cannot keep as 
watchful an eye on the learning garden as he does other projects. Had the opportunity to develop the 
learning garden emerged at a time when Riley was not so fully occupied by his other professional 
commitments or in a space more proximal to his Winter Park base of operations, things might have 
progressed along an entirely different trajectory. Similarly, had the east Orlando Chipotle partnered 
with a nearby school or community-based organization such as the Y.M.C.A. as they have in other cities 
(Real School Gardens 2011), the project might have generated more initial success. 
 

Conclusion 



In many respects corporate fast food and community gardening exist on opposite ends of a long and 
complex continuum. On the one extreme is the American fast food industry, which has come under 
increasing scrutiny for its questionable food sourcing practices, promotion of unhealthy diets, and 
contributive role in advancing “globesity.” Recent public criticism of these ill-effects has, among other 
things, compelled industry players to rethink aspects of their operations, with some chains pursuing 
new directions in corporate marketing and community outreach. So far, Chipotle Mexican Grill has felt 
little pressure to revamp its overall image, as it remains one of today’s most progressive and socially 
engaged restaurant brands. Yet, its links to industrial agribusiness and factory farms persist, despite 
Chipotle’s well-publicized commitment to natural ingredients and sustainability. 

On the other end of the spectrum is the loosely knit web of family farmers, entrepreneurially-oriented 
organic food producers, gardening cooperatives, community advocates, and health conscious consumers 
that comprise today’s local food movement. Despite a lack of consistent state support, their grassroots 
efforts continue to attract growing numbers of followers in communities across the U.S. and elsewhere. 
As a deliberate return to simpler modes of food production, this non-corporate model eschews the 
hierarchical supply chains that insulate consumers from industrial food manufacturers just as it readily 
embraces sustainable practices including community gardening and urban agriculture. Ostensibly, 
support of locally produced food provides better access to fresh produce at the community level and 
fosters more personalized interactions between farmers and their customers. While such ideal 
outcomes are not always so straightforward in reality, they do help explain local food’s rising 
popularity over recent years. Similarly, they also anticipate the beginnings of a more paradigmatic shift 
away from the hegemonic food system that continues to dominate the global economy. 

However incompatible corporate fast food and community gardening appear at the local level, there 
are instances where they converge and coalesce around common objectives. Essentially both are 
couched within neoliberal frameworks whereby market solutions and individual agency effectively 
undermine the potency of state solutions to persistent problems related to the global food system. As 
the unfolding case of the Chipotle learning garden in east Orlando attests, community outreach offers a 
viable context for complementary interests from these distinctive domains to raise their respective 
public profiles through collaboration. For a forward-leaning chain like Chipotle, sponsoring this type of 
initiative not only reinforces its “Food with Integrity” ethos, it also infuses restaurant operations with a 
deeper sense of mission. Besides leading the competition in crafting tasty and relatively inexpensive 
on-the-go Mexican cuisine, part of Chipotle’s corporate clout stems from its documented support of 
such non-profit endeavors. Just as these commitments situate the restaurant brand within a broader 
framework of public engagement that is variously recognized as both ethical and efficacious, they also 
cast the relative absence of state involvement in such issues into rather stark relief. 

For community gardening interests like John Riley’s “A Local Folkus,” chain-affiliated partnerships hold 
genuine promise by creating opportunities for outside capitalization. The launch of these collaborative 
efforts assumes new levels of public credibility when such funding is considered alongside the publicity 
derived from its now popular brand associations. The fact that a well-known company would deign to 
support such agricultural undertakings can help elevate a project’s standing for many within the wider 



community. Efforts that might otherwise go unnoticed can suddenly accrue a greater deal of cachet 
when juxtaposed with the corporate logos and other trappings of popular restaurant chains. If 
anything, they reinforce the growing power of private interests in foregrounding food issues related to 
ethical consumption and the public good. Whether or not these collaborations are positively received 
within the more insular and perhaps politicized confines of the local food scene is probably another 
matter altogether. 

The initial enthusiasm that characterizes these burgeoning partnerships may fail to anticipate the 
growing pains or sudden rifts that can ultimately reverse whatever forward momentum they originally 
experience. As Chipotle learning garden operations now languish in apparent stasis, it becomes evident 
that these associations are probably more tenuous than would otherwise be assumed. Lack of sustained 
commitment from either side can easily derail or upend prospects for long term success without an 
invested stakeholder to effectively manage project details. Indeed, if what transpired in east Orlando 
provides any real indication of how fast food community outreach efforts can stall or fail to achieve 
their prime objectives, it is that, barring a binding contractual agreement between project 
collaborators, factors such as timing, personalities, and geography can all influence how these 
partnerships ultimately unfold. 

At this stage, it seems that neither Chipotle nor Riley are able to devote the requisite time and energy 
to restore the project to some semblance of its initial potential, much less fully transform it into a 
showcase of urban agriculture and public engagement in this part of Orlando. Without an unexpected 
breakthrough, the complex interplay that developed between collaborators over recent months renders 
the prospect of a resurgent learning garden in the foreseeable future into something of an open-ended 
question. With no definitive resolution on the horizon, it is hard to predict whether or not this gloomy 
outlook is only temporary, or leaves open some possibility of a relaunch in the months or years to 
come. Likewise, it is difficult to anticipate which party would be the first to broach some kind of 
renewal effort, however tentative, should the project regain sufficient currency. Future research that 
compares these kinds of top-down approaches to urban gardening with those where local communities 
are involved in such efforts at their inception may reveal new ways to sustain these projects over the 
long term. 

Suffice it to say, the learning garden signifies something of a missed opportunity not just for Riley and 
Chipotle but also for the surrounding community of mostly college students and working or middle-class 
families. In an area of Orlando where strip malls and fast food eateries predominate, a space dedicated 
to the promotion of organic farming, healthy eating practices, and enhanced food knowledge 
represents a vital if not long overdue community asset. Once up and running, the venue would help 
publicize these issues by providing a focal point for sustainable community development as adjacent 
neighborhoods remain largely devoid of such amenities. In a more far-reaching way, it would serve as 
an important resource for larger community efforts that strive to empower individuals and households 
through educational opportunities and skill-based training. Perhaps the biggest drawback related to the 
learning garden’s still unfulfilled promise as a model of community outreach is that those it was meant 
to serve are denied the chance to encounter urban agriculture in such a new and experiential way. 



With few opportunities for local urbanites to detach from the demands of everyday life and reconnect 
with nature by getting their hands dirty through simple vegetable cultivation, this dormant resource 
stands as a vivid reminder of what can happen when the interests of corporate fast food and those of 
the local food movement fail to properly align in collaborative community outreach. Unfortunately, 
since the public never really got the chance to experience the learning garden in a direct way, it is 
unlikely that they will greatly miss its presence. Arguably, as the promotion of ethical consumption and 
other agro-food issues related to the public good are increasingly abdicated to private sector interests, 
it is underserved communities and households who remain most vulnerable to the vagaries of this 
prevailing neoliberal model of development. 

 

Acknowledgements 
The author wishes to thank Dr. Vance Geiger, Martha Heine, and Lorena Parker Matejowsky for their 
valued contributions to this work. 

1. “Reflexive ethnographies range along a continuum from starting research from one’s own experience 
to ethnographies where the researcher’s experience is actually studied along with other participants, 
to confessional tales where the researcher’s experience of doing the study becomes the focus of the 
study” (Ellis and Bochner 2000). Autoethnographies entail “a form or method of research that involves 
self-observation and reflexive investigation in the context of ethnographic field investigation and 
writing” (Maréchal 2010:43). 

2. In this article, I adhere to Catherine Broom’s definition of the public good which understands this 
concept as “an imagined and communal space in which goods valued by society become collectively 
owned and shared through respectful and open contestation and negotiation” (Broom 2011). 

3. Here and throughout this article the term “ethical” qualifies those practices and products that are 
variously believed to promote both social justice and sustainable environmental practices (cf. Johnston 
and Szabo 2011). 

4. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the zip code in which this Chipotle restaurant is located is 
predominately “White,” with a sizable “Hispanic” population. Perhaps unsurprisingly given its 
proximity to UCF, the median age is 26 years old. The average household income is $46,087 (U.S. 
Census Bureau 2013). 

5. This is a pseudonym. 

6. Besides spearheading the Winter Park Harvest Festival, he is also involved in numerous Orlando area 
enterprises and events that promote natural foods and sustainable farming. These include acting as the 
urban agriculture liaison for “Keep Winter Park Beautiful,” a local program dedicated to promoting 
green spaces and urban aesthetics, and serving on the advisory board of Edible Orlando, a homegrown 
magazine that covers Central Florida’s organic food scene. Beyond these volunteer responsibilities, 



Riley also works full-time in commercial real estate with his father. The family firm developed the Mall 
at Millennia, a sprawling upscale shopping center located in west Orlando along the busy I-4 corridor. 
He even moonlights as an adjunct instructor of urban agriculture at Rollins College in nearby Winter 
Park. Riley’s various commitments, I would later find, made follow-up interviews somewhat difficult to 
schedule. 

7. Later, I discovered that “Back to the Start” was Chipotle’s first national television ad. The company 
has almost completely eschewed conventional marketing techniques over its 20 year existence 
(Morrison 2012). In fact, it was only then that I realized that I had never seen a Chipotle television 
commercial as the chain does not rely on this advertising format to promote its restaurants; an 
achievement few major fast food eateries can claim. 

8. He mentioned the fact that only 40% of the restaurant’s pork is free range with the rest coming from 
factory farms. 

 
 
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