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ST. LOUIS — In the pandemic’s early days, with workers furloughed, school cafeterias shuttered and vaccines nonexistent, food pantries rolled out their safety nets. Public awareness was high, and help flooded in. And after a while, the pressure eased.

Now the jaws of inflation have clamped down on pantries big and small, from St. Louis’ poorest neighborhoods to the middle-class bastions of the suburbs. Demand is up. Donations are down. There’s no endgame in sight.

“The need is everywhere,� said Tim Fetsch of the in Bridgeton. “It’s not just an inner-city issue. It’s not just a low-income issue.�

Clients, many of whom have never before received food aid, are arriving in droves. Pandemic assistance programs are disappearing. Supply chain snarls have made staples like peanut butter and juice harder to come by. And agencies’ costs — egg prices have climbed more than a third over last year; energy bills are 42% higher — are ballooning along with everyone else’s.

Across the country, inflation has catapulted to a four-decade high. More than three-quarters of food banks have reported an increase in need, according to Feeding America, a national hunger-relief network. The St. Louis Area Foodbank supports more than 640 organizations in eastern ÃÛèÖÖ±²¥ and southern Illinois. Last month, it gave out 4.5 million meals, up from 3.4 million in January.

The in Creve Coeur, the largest in the region, has seen four times as many new clients as usual, and a surge in total daily visitors: Since mid-June, it has assisted about 130 people a day — it typically averages about 75 — putting it on pace to exceed a high-demand year by at least a thousand people.

At , which serves north St. Louis city and county, the wait list for weekly food deliveries — bolstered by the nonprofit’s own gardens — has mushroomed to 50. in Valley Park has been fielding more requests, not just for dinner staples, but for gas cards and counseling services. in south St. Louis recently expanded its hours.

“We’re anticipating another surge,� said director Fred Hessel.

Maria von der Heydt of Carondelet recently stopped by for the first time. The mother of four stretches the hundred dollars she has left from her disability check each week to feed her kids, fill her gas tank and pay for necessities like medicine and shoes.

Lately, she can’t make the math work. Relief in the form of the pantry’s diced tomatoes, dry beans and spaghetti will buy her a few days, at least.

“It would be catastrophic if I did not have this,� von der Heydt said.

Shonda Gann has heard some devastating stories while chatting with clients at the in Hazelwood. One man told her he had contemplated suicide. A woman came in who said she hadn’t eaten in days.

“Your mouth drops open,� Gann said.

When the pandemic hit, she coordinated a weekly food drive-thru. Cars snaked across the parking lot of the old St. Louis Mills mall each Saturday morning. But eventually, the crowds lightened.

Six months ago, they started to swell again. Gann added a free clothing store and another day for food pickup: Mondays are set aside for seniors. They eat breakfast, play cards and “shop� for what they need. Produce and proteins go quickly.

“It’s so expensive,� said Gann. “They just can’t get it.�

Sometimes, Hope Church can’t either. No one ever leaves empty-handed, but “we always need more food,� Gann said. “Are there days we run out of meat? Yes.�

Food pantries receive donations from multiple sources: food banks, government programs, supermarkets and community collections. Grocery stores, once stalwart donors, have slashed what they order — meaning they have much less surplus to give away. Companies whose workers are still remote don’t hold food drives. And government stimulus payments that spurred financial gifts were long ago depleted.

in Overland, the region’s other food bank, has attempted to absorb its drop in donations — down by a fourth from pre-pandemic times — but has had to cut back what it gives its 330 partner organizations by 10%.

“Food prices and supply chain issues are combining to make this a desperate situation,� said Kristen Wild, the nonprofit’s CEO. “More and more people are having difficulty in meeting basic needs than ever before.�

In the past, Oliza Walls has volunteered at in Festus, near where she lives. A couple weeks ago, she had to go herself.

“I’ve had to revise my budget several times,� said Walls. “It’s just a really big gouge with the gas prices.�

The national average for a gallon of gas dipped below $4.50 this week after peaking above $5 in June. But that’s still a 20% hike from a year ago.

Robert LaCroix’s car got so expensive to drive, he just gave up on it. He walked a rolling suitcase to in south St. Louis’ Dutchtown neighborhood on Monday to stock up, packing it with bananas and lemons, spinach, chicken, cupcakes and a carton of milk.

“I tried not to go,� said LaCroix, who works at a temp agency. “Because I at least have a job.�

The line pushes out the door at St. Anthony’s, which served 200 new households last month. The pantry has had to make substitutions and buy more food itself to fill in gaps, said director Rob Telthorst.

And things could get worse before they get better. The busiest time for food pantries comes in late fall, when summer jobs dry up, gardens go fallow and gas bills spike.

“Things will be a little tighter,� said Telthorst. “But we never turn anyone away.�