Ed Debevicks meets meals to go. It’s like raiding your mama’s freezer — except it’s not your mama. (But don’t tell her that!)
The storefront looks like a big garage door. Inside, there a room full of freezers filled with home-cooked meals ready to take home and pop in the oven. And roaming the room: Mama. She’s grouchy, loving, pushy, and wants you to know she made every meal by hand because she loves you, you ungrateful child who doesn’t come around as often as you should. She knows just what you like and will help put exactly the right meal in your hands — and she’ll tell you the story of how she got the recipe for it if you have the time to listen. Of course, she’s happy to then take you over to meet the neighbor girl who came in to work the register — you have to pay for these meals, you know — Mama’s on a fixed income and frozen dinners don’t grow on trees.