Babica Hen Cafe

In my grandmother’s kitchen sat a hen. Not a real hen of course, not even a hen with legs or little feet. But this hen had a heart, a heart reflective of the love and care that touched all culinary pursuits originating in that kitchen. The hen relentlessly eyed that kitchen as only an inanimate hen can, with all its smells, the conversations, the people, the food. Now the babica hen lends its vigilance to our kitchens that serve you, our guests, fresh, from-scratch food sourcing the bounty of the northwest and prepared with care and, of course, with heart. Welcome, it’s our pleasure to serve you.