Every Sunday, for as long as I can remember, my grandfather prepared a huge pot of “gravy”… or sauce as the rest of America calls it… and assembled the family. We’d gather around his massive dining table and lose ourselves in food and family.

I missed this tradition terribly when I moved away. As if to compensate, I found myself compulsively gathering friends (and strangers) around makeshift tables. In India, plates were set over a discarded door while sauce simmered on a single camp stove burner. In Costa Rica, card tables formed our banquet while I tried out the newest recipe taught by the Frenchman who lived up the hill. These moments have come to define my life.

As my guest list grew, I noticed conversations would get caught in little pockets. Stranglers would fumble through the awkwardness of small talk. In search of a remedy, I began researching traditions and rituals from around the world. And soon, Wonder Table was born.