Sarah Freeman

“We wanted to make everything taste like the place where it’s from,” says Scratch Brewing Company's Aaron Kleidon, who makes beers using arugula, mushrooms, and even trees.

Vytauras Sasnaukas grew up under Soviet occupation, eating ersatz pizzas topped with hard-boiled eggs. Now he's making real-deal Neapolitan pies in Cleveland.

“From a young age, I let nature lead the way,” says chef Yim Gi-Ho, whose healing approach to cooking was formed when he worked as a kitchen apprentice in Buddhist temples.

If you pick up a knife Bruno Abate’s kitchen, you’ll notice that it’s chained to the counter. That is because this culinary school operates in the basement of Division 11 of Cook County Jail in Chicago.

Chef Dan Jacobs' frightening symptoms began less than a year ago, as he prepared to open his new restaurant in Milwaukee.

The chef of The Buffalo Jump is determined to show people that Cape Cod cuisine can be more than clam shacks and oyster bars.

“It was this freeing moment,” Gerard Craft says of closing his award-winning St. Louis restaurant Niche. “We’re going to do whatever the fuck we want now.”

Founded by a wine lover who converted into a beer aficionado after a single bottle of Saison Dupont, Rockmill Brewery turns out its own saisons, witbiers, dubbels, tripels, and stouts that could rival those of Belgium.

In 1914, Frank Lloyd Wright's mistress was murdered, and the home he built for her was burnt to the ground. A century later, a team of farmers is trying to restore a sustainable farm on the property.

The Sherriff’s Garden program at Cook County Jail allows nonviolent felons to maintain a two-acre farm, complete with a beehive, while preparing them to re-enter society as well as the job market.

On a small farm in Illinois, a baker, a farmer, and a scientist have joined together to study the properties of ancient grains that are not only delicious but might be easier to digest for people who claim to have a sensitivity to gluten.

Chicago is a city where hundreds of diehard fans waited for over 26 hours to savor the last bite of owner Hot Doug's meat. These people are idiots, but their dedication is indicative of a primal appreciation of encased meats that only red-blooded...