Five or six years ago, I had the romantic notion of casting off the shackles of responsibility and taking a solo road trip through the North Eastern US, Kerouac style. But you know what’s not romantic? Sleeping in your car. After a week or so of showering in Dunkin’ Donuts’ bathrooms, I found myself at a farmers market in Portland, Maine telling people I was a chef from Toronto who would cook an amazing meal in exchange for a hot shower and place to stay for the night. And that’s the story of how I met the Allens. I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of me still on their fridge – you never know where you’ll meet new friends.