Resorts World and Chef JJ Johnson Serve Up 6,600 Thanksgiving Meals Across Queens and Harlem

In a city where plenty sits cheek by jowl with privation, large-scale charitable meal programmes spotlight both civic generosity and persistent inequality.

At 9am on a blustery Thursday in late November, lines wound around Queens Borough Hall and the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building in Harlem, as thousands of New Yorkers queued not for bureaucratic errands, but for Thanksgiving sustenance. The occasion was not a food festival but an exercise in urban solidarity. Resorts World New York City (RWNYC), the city’s sole casino, teamed up with the Queens Economic Development Corporation and a James Beard Award-winning chef, JJ Johnson, to distribute a remarkable 6,600 Thanksgiving meals to residents facing food insecurity.

Behind the convivial scene lay a grim undercurrent. According to NYC’s Department of Social Services, more than 1.3m city residents—over 15%—experience food insecurity, a number swollen by inflation and a tepid recovery in the low-wage sectors post-pandemic. RWNYC’s gesture, much ballyhooed by political allies and community partners, involved preparing thousands of holiday meals at Chef Johnson’s Harlem restaurant, Fieldtrip, then distributing them via more than 20 local charities. Most of the bounty—6,000 meals—went to families in Queens, with 600 heading uptown to Harlem.

Altruism on this scale is not new to New York’s social fabric; nor, of course, is the need. Still, Queens Borough President Donovan Richards, Council Member Yusef Salaam, and other local luminaries were on hand to heap praise—and to physically serve turkey and trimmings to recipients. As Michelle Stoddart, RWNYC’s community-development head, put it, “providing 6,600 meals is one way we can support our neighbours and help ease the burden of food insecurity during the holidays.” The casino’s largesse extended to donated turkeys for local Assembly Member Jordan Wright and youth charities such as Harlem Grown.

For New York City, such efforts are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, they are a necessary salve for an affordability crisis that shows little sign of abating. Over the past two years, grocery prices have risen persistently—by 21% since 2021, says the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Rent, transport and utilities gnaw at household budgets. With food pantries in all five boroughs reporting chronic shortages, even high-profile initiatives such as the RWNYC-Fieldtrip operation can only begin to plug the gap.

On the other hand, such events underscore the city’s reliance on philanthropy and corporate sponsorship to deliver basic needs. Critics might grumble about casinos burnishing their reputations through such gestures. Yet, given the scale and reach required to marshal and distribute thousands of meals in the country’s largest metropolis, partnerships between the private sector, local authorities, and civil society remain pragmatic, if imperfect.

The economic implications are not trivial. By sourcing ingredients locally and employing restaurant workers at Fieldtrip, the project injected dollars into neighbourhood economies. RWNYC’s involvement has not been without self-interest: as a casino operator, it has every incentive to position itself as a boon to its host borough amidst perennial debates over gambling’s social costs. Still, the creation of a seasonal food-distribution coalition—one that brings together power brokers, chefs, and grassroots charities—demonstrates a capacity for public-private coordination that is often lacking in less connected American cities.

Hungry for solutions beyond charity

Yet, episodic generosity, however welcome, cannot paper over deeper structural fissures. New York’s government has championed citywide anti-hunger programmes, from universal free school lunches to expanded access to food stamps, but administrative entanglements and budget woes have kept many from full realisation. The reliance on well-publicised meal distributions each November bodes ill for any serious ambition to eradicate food insecurity outright.

Nationally, New York’s experience is far from unique. Cities from Los Angeles to Houston stage similarly grand philanthropic affairs each autumn, often securing fleeting media attention while persistent hunger endures. In some European countries—France and the Nordics, for instance—systems of social protection render food-bank queues a rarity, demonstrating that policy, not just benevolence, is the engine of food security.

The lessons for Gotham are manifold. First, data suggest that while donations and one-off drives provide short-term relief, only long-term investment—in benefits administration, social housing, and healthcare—shrinks the population left behind. Second, involving a broader spectrum of community stakeholders, from small grocers to faith groups, ensures that aid reaches those least likely to appear in official statistics or at city hall events.

We reckon that in choosing to sponsor 6,600 meals, RWNYC and its partners exhibit the better face of corporate citizenship. The effort, leveraging culinary talent and civic clout, demonstrates what can be achieved when the city’s public and private actors pull in the same direction. But the occasion also portends a sobering truth: in a metropolis with the resources and ingenuity to feed its millions, that so many families must rely on charity dinners for dignity—and not just for a holiday—remains the real scandal. New York’s capacity for compassion is commendable; its inability to ensure that compassion is no longer needed is less so.

For all the joy and community generated by these Thanksgiving gatherings, New Yorkers might reflect that the ultimate ambition should be to render such spectacles unnecessary. Until then, as long as the city’s tables remain unevenly set, organised generosity offers a heartening—if incomplete—rebuttal to the city’s harsher realities. ■