It’s common to hear people refer to their grandma as the best cook.  Grandma seems to have an ability to coax more flavor, to evoke more memories, to make you feel more loved and cared for than anyone else.  Of the things I want to achieve with my cooking it is that–to make you feel loved and cared for.  What else is there?

Yes, cooking in restaurant kitchens requires intense focus, high energy, attention to detail, and a burning hunger “to be the best.”  At the end of the day that’s all you have is the idea of being “the best.”  After cooking in the three star kitchens of California and New York I felt drawn to something closer to the heart.  The kind of food that made me love food and kitchens to begin with.  The food that my mom and dad made me but not “what” rather “why.”

Cooking is about taking care of people, nourishing the body as well as the experience tied to the food.  For cook’s who are inherently competitive, fine dining has the lure of “the best”–the best ingredients, the best kitchen, best tools, best plates, best best best–but whether fine dining produces the best cook’s is subjective.  Fine dining certainly produces discipline, focused, energetic cooks.  As the opportunity to cook for a family and see an immediate reaction to my food came upon me, I suddenly realized, “I have no idea how to cook.”

Cooking in reality is about connecting to people.  I’ve shaved kale so thin you’d mistake it for hair, I’ve manicured broccoli to resemble a picturesque baobab, I’ve made sauces that three days of attention to be eaten in two minutes.  Details are the most important thing but the type of details you choose to emphasize are the ones that determine how well you connect with an individual through cuisine.