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On a grassy hill overlooking the University of British Columbia's student-run farm, a wheelbarrow brimming with icy bottles of Sumac Ridge Steller's Jay Brut is casually parked in the late afternoon sun.

Below in the field, a giant communal table - elegantly draped in white linen and stretching almost 40 metres long - runs perfectly parallel to hand-plowed rows of cucumbers, squash and zucchini.

A few steps away, in a temporary kitchen tucked amid the tall grass, a pot of locally foraged chanterelles is simmering on one of two propane burners while hefty rounds of bacon-wrapped bison tenderloin sizzle over a bed of white-hot charcoal on a grill.

This restaurant without walls, idyllically set on the soil where the produce for the six-course dinner was grown, is part of a roving series called Outstanding in the Field.

Last Sunday's Vancouver dinner was the only Canadian stop on this summer's schedule of 15 farms. But as the growing "eat local" movement slowly nudges the cult of the celebrity chef off its pedestal, organizers say they hope to expand the event next year to include Montreal.

"I have nothing against chefs being recognized," says founder Jim Denevan, a former chef at the renowned Gabriella Café in Santa Cruz, Calif., as well as onetime fashion model, sand artist and surfer.

"But we've gone too far in lionizing them as superstars," says the ruggedly handsome 45-year-old, peering out from under a straw cowboy hat as his staff set out platters of freshly picked crudités.

"It's the farmers and cheese makers and fishermen that I want to showcase as artists. If we recognize their contribution, we can elevate food as culture."

In 1999, led by a group from Southern California, the al fresco happenings started off small as an opportunity to spotlight organic growers in the Monterey Bay area and reconnect diners with the land and the origins of their food.

The culinary road show now roams as far afield as Alaska and New York, celebrating the harvest of the host region. The feast days start early with a tour of the feature farm, ranch or winery, but extend late into the evenings as the purveyors of the meal's ingredients regale guests with stories between courses.

The organizers provide the infrastructure, which includes everything from cutlery to the plastic kitchen sink. Local chefs, in this case David Hawksworth of West Restaurant, create the menu and prepare the food. Guests are asked to bring their own plates and a hearty appetite.

But seasons change and so has this event. Some of the guests in Vancouver say that this formerly quaint dinner series has been spoiled by its success and is becoming a fad of its own.

"It used to be hippie, now it's trendy," one regular attendee laments, rolling her eyes at the thriving crop of Chanel sunglasses and Louis Vuitton handbags rotating through the opening reception.

The event has also grown much bigger and more expensive. The first Vancouver dinner, held in 2005, attracted about 50 guests with tickets priced at $145. This year, 134 people attended at $200 a head.

A recent flurry of press, including articles in high-profile magazines such as GQ, Elle, National Geographic and House & Garden, helped draw Sunday's sellout crowd, with many diners travelling from as far away as Portland and Seattle.

Although the mainstream media attention worries some, Mr. Denevan seems unconcerned, even pleased.

"It's all about the magic of place and a moment in time," he waxes philosophically, gazing at the white linen field "installation" he spent hours fussing over this morning.

The freewheeling performance aspect of the dinners has waned somewhat this year, now that the group's travelling caravan, a 1953 Flxible coach bus, has been put on hiatus. The vintage red-and-white monster broke down in Whitehorse last summer. Mr. Denevan said they thought they'd take it easy this year by flying to the dinner sites and renting the supplies.

For all its artistry, Outstanding in the Field is hardly an original concept. The farm tour winds past the Urban Aboriginal Communal Kitchen Garden (an outreach program in which native residents of Vancouver's Downtown Eastside plant and harvest a community crop, complete with blessing ceremonies and an outdoor feast almost as elaborate as tonight's dinner), highlighting that this is the way people have broken bread since the beginning of time. Nor is Outstanding in the Field the only event of its kind. Last summer, Michael Stadtlander, one of Canada's most prominent chefs who serves much smaller but equally epic locally sourced meals at Eigensinn Farm north of Toronto, packed up a biodiesel bus for a cross-country tour of feasts served at their source.

Plate & Pitchfork of Portland organizes a similar series of farm dinners in Oregon.

And with the success of recently published "locavore" memoirs such as Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life and The 100-Mile Diet by Vancouver's own Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon, regional farm-fresh menus and dinners are popping up all over North America.

"This is the way dinner should always be eaten," Mr. Hawksworth says, swigging a beer and looking improbably relaxed as he and his crew pipe 134 creamy puffs of fresh chèvre (from David Wood's Salt Spring Island Cheese Company) between marinated slices of organic beetroot that will be served on family-style platters.

"It's peaceful, there are no time constraints," adds the executive chef who has been proudly pushing the local food mantra since West opened seven years ago.

Tonight's event, however, could perhaps use a microphone now that it's grown so large.

The intimacy falters when Ian Angus of Finest At Sea Seafood Boutique & Bistro tries to talk about the albacore tuna (lightly grilled steaks served with anchovy beignettes and sinus-stimulating saffron aioli).

Outstanding in the Field may be fading slightly as it basks in its commercial success and good fortune. But the magic of this excellent meal still isn't one that most guests are likely to ever forget.

"Everybody's happy," Mr. Denevan says with a broad smile, after climbing up on a ladder to thank his guests (and flog his coming cookbook).

"Forget all the conceptual stuff. This is what it's all about."