When SFoodie put out the word that it needed a reviewer to navigate the murky waters of medicinal cannabis edibles, I knew I was the dude for the job.
First of all, I've been a foodie since I first turned my nose up at my mom's chicken a la king. (If you've seen the great indie flick Big Night, where the woman comes to the stunning epiphany that her mother was an awful cook … that's me. Except the woman part.)
As for the cannabis part, well, to paraphrase Shel Silverstein, I've been smoking 41 of my 44 years. I've been writing about it for more than a decade, and I've been a patient for nearly that long. As a former grower, I know very well how to turn a stick of butter into something that would turn an angry alpha male gorilla into Wavy Gravy.
We live in a strange time for cannabis policy in this state, and particularly in the Bay Area. Unlike an alarming number of California communities who refuse to comply with the will of voters (often the same communities who are only too happy to enthusiastically support other voter-based initiatives like Prop. 8), we in San Francisco and Oakland can enjoy our hard-fought freedoms with the backing of our appropriate municipal agencies.