Nearly 100 volunteers contribute to Kerry’s Kitchen, part of Hope & Cope’s cancer support programs at the Jewish General Hospital. Some bake at home in the evening. Others host cooking sessions with students. All of them share a common goal: ensuring people with cancer have one less thing to worry about.
Shiri Tamam coordinates many of these volunteers, organizing drop-offs, deliveries, and increasingly, partnerships with high schools where students cook and bake as part of community service programs. She also brings baked goods directly to patients on the hospital’s oncology floors.
“A little act of kindness goes such a long way,” Shiri says. “Sometimes people drop off just two dozen cookies and apologize for not doing more. I tell them there are 10 more volunteers like you. We just made so many people with cancer smile.”
And she does that through Kerry’s Kitchen.
Kerry’s Kitchen was founded by Kerry Kaufman, who lost her mother to cancer at age 12. After surviving breast cancer herself, Kerry recognized that people with cancer need more than medical treatment. They need practical support. She joined Hope & Cope to create a program focused on something essential: food.
The concept is straightforward. Medical professionals and social workers at the Jewish General Hospital refer patients in need to Hope & Cope. Hope & Cope distributes frozen homemade meals prepared by volunteers. Whether someone is there for chemotherapy, radiation, a blood transfusion, or a consultation, they can take home food without worrying about cooking.
Shiri was approached about volunteering nearly 10 years ago but couldn’t commit. She was caring for her father, who had stage four prostate cancer, while raising two young children. After he died, volunteering became her way of processing grief.
“My father was lucky,” Shiri explains. “He had my mom, my sisters, my brother, me, grandchildren. He never had to come home from chemo and wonder how he’d make dinner when he couldn’t feel his legs or hands. But so many people with cancer face that reality.”
As her children grew older and Shiri had more time, her involvement expanded. A teacher with a passion for cooking and baking, she found a way to combine both. When her kids started high school and needed community service hours, she began hosting cooking sessions at her house.
“There was literally parsley, flour, eggs, everywhere you looked!” she recalls. “But we would cook and bake for hours, pack everything up, and I’d bring it to the hospital. The kids got their hours, and people with cancer got food.”
The pandemic forced a complete reimagining of the program. Cancer doesn’t pause for global emergencies, so neither could Kerry’s Kitchen. Unable to host group cooking sessions, Shiri shifted to coordinating drop-offs at her home while Kerry provided her with names and addresses for direct deliveries.
This created something unexpected: personal connections. For the first time, Shiri met the people receiving the meals. She would fill her car and drive around the city, calling ahead to ensure people were home.
“I would get these incredible messages saying they had no food in their freezer, and now they had meals for the week,” Shiri says. “They wouldn’t have to rely on pizza or frozen dinners.”
One delivery stands out. A woman opened the door with a bandage still visible on her arm from chemotherapy. Her young daughter, maybe three or four years old, hugged Shiri and said, “Thank you for bringing my mommy food.”
That moment captured what Kerry’s Kitchen provides: relief from one worry during an overwhelming time.
Now Shiri brings the program directly to patients. She loads a cart with individually wrapped baked goods, cookies, biscotti, muffins, brownies, along with get-well cards her elementary students have made. Then she goes to the seventh and eighth floors of the hospital where people sit during chemotherapy treatments and wait for appointments.
“When I say good morning, ask how they’re feeling, ask if there’s anything I can do, they know I’m not a doctor or nurse,” Shiri explains. “I’m a volunteer who chose to be there. They’re so appreciative. You spread love, and you probably make that three-hour session a little better.”
Sometimes patients remember her from previous visits. They’ll mention it’s their last treatment, that they’re feeling better, and ask if she has more of that chocolate cake. Those moments remind her why she volunteers.
“I’m not a doctor. I cannot heal them,” Shiri says. “But we can give them a card and a brownie. It’s almost selfish because you do it for them to feel better, but I’m the one walking away feeling good.”
The program continues to evolve. Shiri recently met with a high school to establish regular baking sessions. Students will stay after school on early dismissal days to cook and bake with teachers and parent volunteers. The flexibility makes volunteering accessible. People can bake at home at 9 p.m. or 8 a.m., whenever they have time, and either drop off the food or arrange for pickup.
What started as one woman’s response to grief has grown into a network of volunteers, students, and community members. The program now involves roughly 100 volunteers who contribute what they can, when they can.
“When people say they don’t have time, I think it’s about priorities,” Shiri says. “You do something small. You tell your kids, ‘Let’s get in the kitchen and bake something.’ It doesn’t take much. You can go home, bake or cook, and bring it to me. A little act of kindness goes such a long way.”
Inspired by this story? Hope & Cope volunteers make a real difference in the lives of people with cancer and their families.
Whether you have a few hours a week or want to support our mission through a donation, there are many ways to get involved.
To become a Hope & Cope volunteer:
Visit hopeandcope.ca/volunteer-application-form-2.To support Hope & Cope with a donation:
Visit hopeandcope.ca/donate.