Sorry, I can’t. I’m Busy Spinning.

We have been quiet for the past few months. The insanity-inducing process of picking up every last piece of our lives, placing it delicately or not-so-delicately in a box, moving it to our beloved new Cook Street shop, schlepping all said things indoors and slowly unpacking, has consumed us. This epic process has caused me to begin mentally unraveling the layer upon layer of upheaval and the fight-or-flight responses to the adversity of the past few years.

What many of you do not realize is that we have been essentially moving continuously for four solid years. We transplanted our entire farm operation to a new state, including thousands of parts, hundreds of livestock, and dozens of pieces of equipment. We have twice moved our business operation, and thrice our home, and in the midst of this upheaval, birthed two babies.

The unraveling that I have experienced since we moved to Cook Street has spun me into a peaceful eddy of respite and recovery. The spinning meditation has been grounding and has refocused my vision on the two most important things in my life, family and food.

This past year has uprooted the traditions we had as a family when we were actively living on the farm. And transitioning to a nightly restaurant schedule has further disrupted the cadence of our lives.

Shortly after moving, desperately yearning to mend this rift and spend quality time with my family, we abandoned the chaotic scene of moving boxes and messy construction projects and made our way across town for an afternoon of ecstatic dance, a healing meditation that I have enjoyed since my adolescence.

Approaching one of Portland’s beautiful expansive parks, the rumblings of bass tones in the distance warmed up the sunny fall scene. Shortly after joining the group of hippies and fellow dance enthusiasts, my dance-loving kiddos disappeared into the welcoming and undulating crowd with their father. Watching their miniature limbs waving and gleeful dances rippling away I was given a rare moment of freedom from the demands of any human. The memories and emotions my body held wept through my movements, cried from my pores, and danced through the soles of my feet into the beautiful drum of the earth.

The overwhelming responsibility and gravity of the past four years culminated in this moment and threw me into a dirvish-like spin which my body sustained for the better part of five cathartic minutes. At one point of this hurricane-like unraveling, my little River approached, pleading for a boost into the nearby arms of a massive maple, to which I ecstatically replied, “Sorry, I can’t. I’m busy spinning”.

Every week since our move, we have been unraveling, we have been breaking in our new boots, and we have been healing our weary hearts.

Our little family has arrived. We have unpacked, healed, recalibrated, ceased spinning, and are ready, in our lovely little dance of life, to serve you.

We adore our new little restaurant space. Our menu and wine pairing is a true expression of the season and life of each day.

You can look forward to a follow up love letter from George, teasing you with some of our favorite fall-inspired culinary delights.

We cannot wait to dance through this season with you, tableside.

With love,