Here’s a long form answer to all the questions we field via email and in person. I’ve been getting a lot of feedback that folks like reading what I have to say online- neat! I’ll try to keep it up, it’s a solid outlet for bearing the unbearable. I’m always surprised by how many people enjoy reading it. Alas, Instagram (my preferred method) has become a garbage place of censorship and corporate control, and I’m wistfully longing for a better solution. Additionally, I’ve spent many days putting together long, thoughtful posts only to have them disappear right before posting, never to be seen again. So Rad suggested I put down some thoughts here (mostly because he’s tired of my meltdowns about it probably), where I can say what I want and fingers crossed, have it post without problem.

I have to say that I’m humbled, as it’s a balancing act writing authentically- while not misrepresenting my thoughts as his as well, since we run Knifey Spooney together but are obviously two separate people. That he trusts my words will be true, and probably funny, and while perhaps not ideal for “corporate image” if you were to ask someone who knows what they’re doing- he knows it will align with his values and serve our big picture ideas. (which is a decent life for all, a planet that’s not on fire or falling to fascism, and big time community building)

Nothing has been the same after the passing of our child Kale, this January.

Our family, friends and community made sure we wouldn’t have to worry about money this year (thanks doesn’t hardly come close for that), so our focus in this season doesn’t have to be “work as hard as you possibly can while the sun shines so you can get through another winter.”

Since Kale has passed, our time has become so much more precious. Donald Trump came into power on Jan 6th, which was two days after Kale died. ( I wanted to write in his eulogy that “there were better ways to avoid a Trump presidency”, but not everyone gets my dark humour). Obviously for us personally, but on a broader scale for the world-things have really, really gone downhill since then. The genocide in Gaza has somehow continued to escalate, at the time of writing this, they are in the final stages where they are expecting huge parts of the population to die of starvation in the upcoming days. While we watch helplessly from the screens of our phones. Fascism is here, with the media being silenced before our eyes (from cancelling the number one late night talk show on tv, to cancelling funding to PBS and NPR), citizens being deported or imprisoned off the street in the US in broad daylight (with huge financial incentives for doing this job even). The courts are both stacked and ignored (if they ever dare rule against those in power). Even at home in Kingston, our city’s response to our unhoused population (which you caused btw with your shitty policies that favour builders, Queens student’s needs and the aesthetics of it vs actual people’s lives) has been cruel and dystopian. I’ll use another post to talk about our bloated police budget and how they further traumatized us the night Kale died, and how their real job is to keep people in line and protect corporate interests.

In conclusion, when you have grief as your carry on, and you feel like your role in the world is to show up and speak out-

However, this work has always felt important. I started eating plant based as a direct action to a world descending into climate chaos. We started selling it to bring healthier options to the market, and to show people that it doesn’t suck. We started teaching it to empower our community to learn how to do it themselves, and to share it with their friends and families. We do weddings as an antidote to an industry built on excessive single use items, and as a chance to change 100 minds at once about what plant based food can taste like. Plus it saves like 5 semi trucks full of water during food production to do it this way. So that’s a start.

So, about our business. This summer, we’ve mainly be doing weddings and events so that we can have a more open schedule for travel. And we got to be there for my parent’s anniversary in Courtenay, British Columbia, with Vegfest Nanaimo giving us an opportunity to try new foods, make new friends, learn from others, get an outrageous parking ticket, and have a write off for our trip to see my family.

Which all sounds really lovely, which it was-but this was our first time taking our food business so far on the road-we usually stick to about a four hour drive away for logistical purposes.

I’m going to take you back a bit to before these photos- us, getting on a plane and (me specifically) salivating at the mouth in excitement to learn how to do this across country! Next up, across the world (not joking! But also struggling with the ethical dilemma of wanting a life of travel in a world on fire).

And then-the crushing reality of arriving at our destination, a full day late, covered in urine and snot, having to wash glass shards off my things (and nori seaweed also, a festival sized amount), with a bleeding kid, and a possibly broken toe. Also, pretty much all of that happened with my dead child’s ashes in my backpack. So like, what the fuck were we doing? Are we itching to travel because it makes us feel alive/is something to look forward to in the future/adventure feels better than sadness?

Alternately, are we running away from home because memories of Kale are in every corner, down every street, in every park and a new place doesn’t have that/travel is a nice distraction from grief(but also ha ha, it’s your carry on both literally and figuratively)/it somehow feels meaningful in times of great change and upheaval and tragedy to do all the things if we possibly can/while we possibly can?

We feel a lot of dilemma stepping away, especially from our beloved Kingston community.

But I see him in all our our shared memories.

All of the vendor friends he made (like, all of them).

Last summer when we got to take him to a Queer Ottawa farm group market where we had the time of our lives. The perks of this business came in so many unexpected places, and he loved them all.

But then I also see the baseball games we missed trying to make my morning bakery drop. The weekends spent instead of with our kids, putting together meal plans. Only to be told “I never want to eat Knifey Spooney food again” by a customer (honestly, he wasn’t wrong-it was biting off much more than we could do at the height of busy season, and learning the hard way). Spending Sundays away from our kids- sometimes to stand in the rain and make next to nothing, and sometimes to have people scoff at our plant based foods. As I look back on the last year we spent with our precious Kale, there was just too much sacrifice. There was not enough yes’s, and too many “I can’t honey, I really have to take care of this”, “you know I want to be there so badly, but there’s no way I can finish this in time to get there” and “you’re okay to get yourself there?”

So that’s where I’m getting stuck at going back to what we used to do.

I’m still trying desperately to get some of those lost moments back, and that sure doesn’t seem to be by being in the kitchen all day every day. We have one adult kid left, and one three year old who definitely deserves some make up time for all the times we couldn’t ( we went back to work with an 150 person wedding 6 weeks after they were born, and haven’t stopped since). Life can be unexpectedly short, we may not have many more tomorrows. In addition, grief is debilitating and unexpected-it can take you out, sometimes out of no where.

The other thing is that grief can be a huge source of magic, creativity, transformation and growth-but you have to have the time and space to do it. We are so, so grateful that we do.

So that brings me to what we’re doing now, and what happens next. The real answer is we don’t know.

I feel a call to host cooking classes again, just to see your faces and share the love of food and have some laughs- but am a bit traumatized as we had a full schedule booked when Kale passed. The fall out of having to contact/inform/reschedule was such a stressful thing to worry about at that time. This is not that, but I still have blocks up about it. Plus it requires a lot of back end organizing that I tend to be poor-mid at when I’m at my best. I also want to be able to offer holiday meals again this fall/winter, but it’s quite hard to say if we’ll have the capacity. We sit with high hopes that when the time comes, you’ll still be hungry.

So right now, we’re mostly sticking to things we’re contractually obligated to do-and events that allow for travel or attending something we really really want to be part of (vegan food festivals feed the part of our souls that are soothed by carbs, and Queer events allow us to indulge in a hefty dose of Queer joy-the antidote to all things). Please still reach out if your event needs a lot of planning time (and is after the summer), or if you’re working on something really special that you think we’d like to be part of, or you want to invite us for dinner (as in you cook it for us and we come eat it) or anything like that.

We’re still here, and still trying to decide how our grief can best serve the world. Until then, you can find us picking raspberries, listening to music in a field, grabbing a little treat, trying to talk Rad into letting me take home more free things by the side of the road, relishing in the magic of humanness, laughing with our friends, talking to people about community building, tearing down the system, and the transformational nature of grief when properly supported, dancing shamelessly anywhere we please, saying a lot of “yes’s” to offers of friendship and adventure, or drawing pictures in a park on a sunny day. If we see me randomly smile, it’s because I felt Kale kiss my face through the wind. There is magic swirling all around, we’re just pausing long enough to soak it all in.