Current Situation

Ray cooks the way he draws — constantly, and with the door open.

The pastrami takes two weeks: a week in the brine, then a day on the smoker over hickory with a spritz of cider vinegar every couple of hours. Thirty pounds at a time. He pickles eggs in soy and Thai chili, grows the chilies himself, bakes cheddar jalapeño sourdough at night when he cannot sleep, and simmers bone broth from chicken feet because they cost almost nothing and they are better.

None of which makes him precious about it. There is pizza, fried chicken, a bacon grease salad, and a standing offer to drive out for sushi and a sundae when it rains. Everyone is invited — that is usually the point.