It’s the grin. I always wait for the grin, and I never have to wait too long. Soon after I serve the food – regardless of whether my guests are paying attention to it or are engaged in an animated conversation– everyone’s mouth cracks and they break into the small grin of delight, which progresses to the smile, and then the nod, homage to the wonder of her cooking, the wonder of fellowship, and the wonder of life. 

When I began with Janice over a year ago, I expected the benefits to be largely utilitarian: quality food, efficient procurement, variety, etc. And although it felt perhaps a little decadent and lazy – who am I to have a personal chef and I really should cook for myself, right? – it seemed worth a shot. In the end, the utilitarian benefits of Tiny Spoon Chef pale in comparison to what else has been delivered: dazzled each week by the creativity and technical proficiency of a first-rate chef, and then, of course, on the faces of those closest to me – the grin.