Adam, a young Detroiter with a warm and easy way, works at Le Petit Zinc, a cafe on the way to Corktown. I'm slurping through a giant bowl of hot chocolate while Adam rests on his haunches opposite, his chin at tabletop level. He's talking about the responsibility that goes with inheriting a piece of farmland in the middle of an American city. "Our garden has grown to four city plots. Two older ladies had been farming there for decades. Until they passed away they were feeding their families for years. We're excited because the soil is really good, but it's a big garden now. I think we're going to plant an orchard."