Come through
the Portal.

A little bit
of home,
in Oakland.

My most precious memories are in Lebanon. My grandma frying fish in her nightgown while passionately talking politics. My grandpa teaching me to seal his distiller with potatoes and flour. Fruits and vegetables washed in the Mediterranean, still salty as I bite through their skin.

The food moves through Afghan, Lebanese and Belizean flavors — the roots of our chefs and the stories we carry with us.