One of a kind...

Know that Prince song "Friend, Lover, Sister, mother, wife? Okay, scrap lover and wife (for most of us), throw in bon vivant, political junkie, comediennne, straight talker and chef and you have Liz, the best multi-threat all-in-one friend anyone could ask for.

I met Liz in DC during the late 1980s, as one of Donette's eclectic crew. She mentioned possibly moving to California and opening a restaurant, which I promptly forgot. I moved to LA in 1990 and about a year later noticed a new restaurant on Westwood Blvd., Jamaican Café. I made a yardie style illegal U-turn and rushed in, hoping for the best but expecting mediocrity. Surprised and then elated, I inhaled the meal and was about to leave when the owner came out to ask how everything was. I recognized her--who can forget Liz?--and complimented her cooking genius. She had no idea at first who I was, unable to reconcile my neo-radical dreadlocks with the quiet upwardly mobile young man that she'd met once before. So I said the magic word--in this case Donnette!-- and gained instant entry into the tribe.

The Jamaican Café became my dining room and sometime living room, and Liz became my friend. I loved the food, but if it had not been good, I would have kept coming just to hang out. Some of my favorite LA memories revolve around the restaurant locations. And I blame her entirely for my first pot belly. I remember first meeting Steve there--in his mustachioed, pre-patois phase--after he had passed muster with the staff, and it's nice to see that same happy energy still flowing between them.

Liz is famous among her many friends for her generosity, insight, passion, wit and vibe. She inspires loyalty. She remembers the favorite dishes of her friends, and makes sure to cook them when we visit. She's a great listener and if pressed has been known to dispense advice and caution to the lovelorn, or so I hear. Me? I rely on the as yet infallible Liz-o-meter: if Liz likes her, she's a potential keeper. When I start to hear phrases like "not your speed" and "poppy show", I take the hint.

Liz is the only person for whom I have happily trafficked in Rothmans cigarettes, "mule-ing" from Jamaica. What Liz wants, Liz gets. I never leave her presence without feeling like my heart has been warmly hugged.

I hope when I'm 50 in a couple years I'll have a coterie of devoted friends willing to follow me halfway around the world to celebrate. Wish I could be there to join the party. Happy Birthday, Liz, and Mazel Tov!

whole heapa love,
Konrad