When Anthony Geraci vowed to improve the food and the food culture in Baltimore City schools, skeptics said not much was going to happen.

Now, two years later, a lot has happened. A forgotten piece of ground owned by the city has been turned into Great Kids Farm, a thriving vegetable garden that both yields fresh produce and serves as a place for students to learn about agriculture. Gardens have sprouted at 30 city schools. Fresh local food in school cafeterias is emphasized over fare assembled in distant commercial kitchens.

This fall, a traditional part of student life — complaining about the cafeteria fare — may begin to fade as students join menu planning teams. Kids are getting smarter about their food choices.

Mr. Geraci, who has had a big hand in stirring this pot, now wants to scale back his duties as food and nutrition director of the city schools. He will work part time in Baltimore, and a successor to run the daily operations is to be appointed by the end of the summer. This is the equivalent of a restaurant's executive chef handing over the kitchen to a sous chef. You hope that the food will continue to be good, and that the menu remains interesting.

It is doubtful that Mr. Geraci, who is a bundle of energy and ideas, will slow down all that much in his scaled-back status. When he isn't in Baltimore, or visting his wife in New Hampshire, he will be preaching to audiences in cities around the country about food reform in school systems. Baltimore, Mr. Geraci notes, has taken a leadership role in this effort. "Despite some of the hurdles that we have here, we have done some cool stuff," he says.

Assuming this "bully pulpit" attracts attention — and sometimes brings in funding. That's important, because financing food reform in the schools can be a struggle. For instance, establishing a central school system kitchen in Baltimore that would supply freshly prepared meals to satellite kitchens is an idea looking for a funder.

In the big picture, Mr. Geraci argues that school systems can use their purchasing power to support local farmers, create jobs and teach some students the skills of the hospitality business. He likes to think of the Baltimore school system as "a $40 million food company." Over the years, of course, companies and government have established footholds in this enterprise, and changing the way business is done takes time.

While Mr. Geraci has pounced on the costs of shipping and storing packaged foods — costs that he says are considerably lower when an operation uses local goods — he contends that a school system should not be content with producing the cheapest meals. Instead of merely putting food on a tray, the job of a school food chief, he says, is to put healthy kids, ready to learn, in front of educators.

Mr. Geraci has described himself as "an igniter." Given his record, that description is apt. What the school system needs now is a keeper of the flame.