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Tuesday, 10 February 2026
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Written by Jamie Bishop
Inside a modest cement-block building on Griffin Street, just minutes from downtown Fayetteville and not far from the city’s main social service corridors, is NC Food Commissary. A new commissary kitchen, NC Food Commissary is quietly redefining what faith-driven work can look like in the local food economy.
Located at 813 Griffin St., the facility operates as a licensed commercial kitchen for food trucks, caterers, bakers and small food businesses that need a legal base of operations. But for Chris Thiessen, one of the project’s founders, the space represents something deeper than compliance or entrepreneurship.
The commissary, she says, grew out of a calling.
Thiessen originally envisioned launching a food truck with the simple goal of feeding people in need. That plan stalled when she discovered a critical barrier: North Carolina law requires mobile food vendors to operate from an approved commissary, and none existed locally to support that vision. Rather than abandon the idea, Thiessen followed what she describes as a clear redirection.
The building on Griffin Street became the answer.
What now exists is a standalone commissary, the first of its kind in Cumberland County — equipped with a full cooking kitchen, two prep kitchens, secured dry storage, refrigeration, freezer options and classroom space. From a regulatory standpoint, it fills a long-standing gap for food entrepreneurs across Fayetteville and neighboring counties who previously had to borrow space, rely on limited church kitchens, drive to Raleigh, or operate under the radar. From a spiritual standpoint, Thiessen views it as an act of obedience.
Throughout the three-year process of securing the building, navigating permits and building out the space, prayer was central. One of the project’s partners, who also served as her pastor, prayed over the entire facility, every room and corner, before operations began. Thiessen believes that foundation matters.
She speaks openly about patience being one of the greatest lessons the process required. Doors did not open quickly, and plans often shifted. But she describes a steady pattern of confirmation through conversations, partnerships and timing that reinforced her belief the project was unfolding as intended.
The commissary operates as a for-profit business, but it is paired with a nonprofit ministry, NC Meal Train Ministry, which anchors the faith-based mission of the space. The two entities function together: the commissary provides infrastructure for businesses, while the nonprofit ensures that food and opportunity circulate back into the community.
Through NC Meal Train Ministry, surplus food prepared by vendors from catered events or unsold service days can be redirected rather than wasted. Participating businesses receive credits toward kitchen time or deductions facilitated through the nonprofit, while prepared meals are funneled to existing food pantries and individuals already serving Fayetteville’s unhoused population. Rather than creating new outreach programs, the ministry strengthens networks that are already active on the ground.
The location of the commissary reinforces that mission. Griffin Street sits near major service centers, including areas where residents seek identification, employment resources and emergency assistance. Thiessen says being physically close to need has shaped how she understands the work happening inside the building.
Plans are also underway for a community garden behind the facility, further tying food production to service. The garden, like the kitchen, is meant to be practical rather than symbolic, a tangible extension of care in a city where food insecurity remains visible.
Inside the building, the ministry often takes a quieter form. Many food entrepreneurs who contact the commissary arrive with talent but little understanding of licensing, insurance, tax obligations or pricing. Thiessen, whose background is in accounting and administrative work, spends much of her time guiding them through those early steps. She does not complete the work for them, but she connects them to free state and local resources, small-business advisors and regulatory offices that many do not know exist.
That guidance, she believes, is part of the ministry itself. Helping someone build a legitimate, sustainable business means helping them support their families and, in turn, serve the community through their work.
The commissary also includes classroom space that will be used for food-safety instruction, business education and regulatory training, including upcoming requirements for propane use at festivals and mobile operations. Classes are planned to be bilingual to ensure accessibility. While these offerings address compliance, Thiessen emphasizes that education is also about confidence, helping people move beyond fear and uncertainty.
Growth is already being considered in phases. The current site is designed to support up to 35 businesses initially, with expansion possible through added storage or a second location if demand continues. Still, Thiessen measures success less by numbers than by faithfulness to the mission.
She is currently praying over what will eventually fill a large blank wall near the entrance, something that quietly signals the spiritual foundation of the work being done there. The goal is not to make the space overtly religious, but unmistakably intentional.
The commissary’s grand opening and ribbon cutting, hosted by the Fayetteville Chamber of Commerce, is scheduled for Feb. 19 at 1 p.m. at the Griffin Street location. Thiessen says the celebration will reflect the spirit of the project itself, communal, inclusive and shared.
In a city where food trucks and pop-up vendors have become a defining part of local culture, the commissary stands as unseen infrastructure: prep tables instead of stages, storage shelves instead of spotlights. Yet for Thiessen, its purpose is clear.
The work, she says, is bigger than business. And for now, she remains committed to following where it leads
For information about NC Food Commissary membership, you can visit the website, www.ncfoodcommissary.com, or by phone at 910-807-7850.
(Photo courtesy of NC Food Commissary's Facebook page)
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Tuesday, 10 February 2026
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Written by Lia Tremblaya
For all his 64 years, Jim Watts has always been an active guy. He lives on 65 acres in Bladen County and has never had a problem with the extensive walking and heavy lifting needed to look after that much land.
So, in August of 2023, it was a shock to find out that he’d need quadruple bypass surgery.
Like a lot of heart patients, Watts had initially dismissed his chest discomfort as a byproduct of anxiety during a stressful time. But when it became harder to ignore, he went to the emergency room.
“They took very good care of me,” he said. “They ran all the tests, and everything looked good. My blood pressure was fine; my heart rate was fine. Nothing to indicate a problem.”
When he mentioned he was going through a stressful time, the doctor agreed it may just be anxiety. But he advised Watts to follow up with his primary care doctor and a cardiologist, just to be sure. Those visits turned up nothing of concern, Watts said—until a CT cardiogram ordered by cardiologist Selvaratnam Sinna, MD.
“When he saw the results of that,” Watts said, “the first thing he asked me was, ‘How far can you walk without having to sit and rest?’ I thought that was an odd question because I felt like I was pretty much the picture of good health.”
The angiogram showed otherwise. With some diminished blood flow now apparent, Watts was scheduled for a heart catheterization to investigate further.
“So I went in there with anticipation of doing the heart cath,” Watts said, “maybe needing a stent or something like that, but that was it.”
But after that procedure, he woke up to more surprising news. The catheterization revealed four significantly blocked arteries, and he would need bypass surgery. After taking in the troubling news, Watts began listing all the things he would need to go home and take care of first.
“And they said no,” he recalled. “They said I needed to stay in the hospital until the surgery because, in my condition, I really could have a heart attack at any time.”
Cardiothoracic surgeon, Robert E. Maughan, M.D., performed the procedure, which reroutes blood around the blocked arteries to improve heart function. Watts said the days after waking up are still a blur, but he remembers an excellent staff that kept him informed and encouraged.
“The staff there in the ICU was absolutely invaluable,” he said. “They were awesome. There were some fantastic people who took care of me.”
After his discharge from the hospital, Watts said, the real work was in the weeks ahead. To stay motivated through his long recovery, he kept a specific goal in mind.
“I have an annual hunting trip to South Dakota where we go and hunt pheasant,” he said. “And before the surgery, I wanted to know if I'd be able to go to the pheasant hunt in October.”
That gave him less than 12 weeks before the trip. It was a bold ambition, but Watts knew his previous level of fitness would help to propel him.
“By the end of September, I was walking four miles a day,” he said. “It started with a lap around my yard, and then adding more laps, and then actually getting out and walking up and down the road.”
While he was undaunted by the physical challenges of recovery, Watts said he was surprised by the psychological stumbling blocks.
“It was very scary to realize that even with no symptoms, feeling just fine, I was that close to having a very serious heart attack,” he said. “And to go from lifting recliners one day to then having trouble standing up, it felt like I went from almost being invincible to being a weakling. That was hard.”
His physical progress helped to lift his spirits, Watts said, and at low points he tried to focus on the goal of getting to South Dakota. Then, about a week before the trip, he was cleared to join his friends on the hunt.
“It's always a very special trip because the area we go to is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in this area,” he said. “You can see for miles and miles, and it’s just a beautiful landscape.”
Scenery like that has taken on new meaning for Watts since his surgery, and even working in his own yard feels a little different.
“I’m doing the same things I was before, but just enjoying it more,” he said. “I appreciate the sunset so much more now.”
(Photo courtesy of Cape Fear Valley Health)
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