In the spring of 2020 nobody could come over. So I started building boards and leaving them on doorsteps — one for my sister in Pleasanton, one for a nurse down the street, one for a neighbor who’d just lost her mom. I wasn’t running a business. I was trying to hug people from six feet away.

By that summer the orders outgrew my kitchen counter. I rented time in a commercial kitchen in Livermore, bought a folding table and a very unglamorous cooler, and started driving boxes to San Francisco on Saturdays. My husband did the deliveries. My kids made the little cards.

Then somebody asked me to do a wedding. I said yes before I knew what a sixteen-foot grazing table cost to build. That table taught me everything — how to shop for 120 guests, how to keep brie right in September heat, how to style around a florist who had very strong feelings about eucalyptus.

Since then we’ve grazed baby showers in Berkeley, client dinners in the Financial District, retirement parties in Marin and more Napa weddings than I can count. The workshops came last, and honestly they’re my favorite. Watching someone fold their first salami rose is a specific kind of joy.

We’re still family owned and still woman owned. I still write every menu. And I still shop the same East Bay cheesemongers and farmers markets I did when this was just me, a cooler and a lot of free time.

Tell me what you're celebrating. I'll build the table for it. — Karla, Founder