Vi Rheinhardt lives in a suburban townhouse. She has nearly 30 years of experience in the photo finishing industry. But she has had trouble finding a good job since her employer downsized in 2007.

The goodwill and generosity of friends have kept her afloat. Yet Rheinhardt said she yearns for a day when she never eats another peanut butter sandwich and doesn't have to worry about affording food anymore.

On Wednesday, she summoned her courage and told more than 50 people gathered in Apple Valley to discuss "the new face of hunger in Dakota County" that she is one of those hungry people.

"I've gotten some food now," Rheinhardt said, detailing her struggle, both emotional and practical, to find assistance. "It's been very, very difficult."

For those in attendance, it became obvious that Rheinhardt's case is not an aberration. The suburbs, long thought of as affluent or at least solidly middle class, are now home to many who live from one paycheck to the next.

Five percent of Dakota County residents -- about 16,000 people -- lived in poverty in 2008, defined by the federal government as an income of $21,000 or less for a family of four.

Put differently, that is "almost the whole population for Hastings or Farmington," said Dakota County management analyst Jane Vanderpoel.

Growth in the use of public assistance programs, such as food stamps, and free and reduced lunches for school children has outpaced even the county's previously explosive population growth.

And the amount of food distributed through Dakota County food shelves, which was fairly consistent earlier in the decade with about 800,000 pounds annually, jumped to 1.1 million pounds in 2007 and doubled to 1.6 million pounds in 2008.

"I'll bet that trend line is continuing to go up very fast," Vanderpoel said. "That's a pretty remarkable increase."

The numbers were striking, even for Amy Christensen of Project Food Stock, a nonprofit that rallies the community to lend sustainable support to food shelves.

"In the past we've maybe been able to perceive that we were insulated from this type of problem," Christensen said.

The economic meltdown changed that. People started to see neighbors struggling.

"It's very real," she said.

Directors of food shelves from around the county said that a growing number of people seeking food are the people who used to make donations.

They are people like Rheinhardt who lost jobs and are having trouble finding new ones. They've never been poor and aren't sure where to turn.

Mary Kocak, food shelf director at Hastings Family Service, said many people wait months, trying to juggle expenses on credit cards or with payday loans rather than asking for help.

"People are waiting a length of time because it's hard to walk through that door at the food shelf," Kocak said.

The goal of Wednesday's discussion was to educate people about hunger and help community groups make connections and learn about resources.

Danielle Baas Molliver, director of social justice and charity at St. John Neumann Catholic Church in Eagan, said the importance of linking people with resources cannot be underestimated. She helped Rheinhardt after hearing about her from Experience Works, a nonprofit that works with people 55 and older.

"Keep your ears open. Don't worry about being nosy," Molliver said. "Help bridge the gap between shame and humiliation and not knowing where to go."

Katie Humphrey • 952-882-9056