Though he’s just now finding his words he will remind us by pointing and crying to check the miniature apple tree by the neighbors fence, after all its been two days!

Food takes on special meaning when considered in the company of death. The last meal offered to condemned prisoners is of mythic significance.

f you rated the productivity of his kitchen against the McKitchens of America you’d be hard pressed to find one that turned out more food and made more people happy per square inch.

Food is about relationship in every way. Not only the people we cook for, but the people we get our food from.

When I look back on that period I’m amazed by how much each one of us gave to the first and last Guerrilla Cafe event. Trips to San Francisco, buying furniture, cooking, cooking and more cooking. Were we insane? I

When I wield my Grandfather’s steel I reach out to him, offering an invitation to share in the sacred honor of preparing food. He’s never turned down the chance to give me advice, he knows he is always welcome in my kitchen.

Walking into Eds restaurant was like walking into the end of a Junior High make-out party. You knew something interesting was going on when you stumbled into the basement rec-room, but it was too damned dark to do anything but step on people as you tried to find the couch.

Each dish they cook hearkens back to a time and place before we were born, back when the tribe of The Sisters was united under the same roof, around the same stove stirring the same pot.