I began my career as a graphic designer and found myself applying the same principles I used at work to the food I was making at home. 

Evidently, what defines strong design is also the measure of an excellent dish—texture, color, contrast—so I pivoted from the studio to the stove and started serving up meals.

I spent seven years building my small business and cooking for dozens of families. My very first clients stayed with me the entire time (shout-out to Marion & George). Every week I developed a unique menu—repeats were rare—although I did occasionally cave in and make shepherd’s pie for the umpteenth time because Marion just needed to have it.

Stewed beans.

The bean is a humble sponge: it sits on a shelf, high and dry, waiting and ready to soak up all of the flavors. It’s an ideal canvas for an artist, if you will. I’m also relentless about making broth from scratch and using every last bit of every single ingredient I touch.

It’s difficult to find a restaurant that isn’t doubling as a concert hall these days—the music is too loud and dining out isn’t just about ingesting food; it’s about debate and discourse and ordering a third bottle of wine. And it does appear that I haven’t answered the question.

It’s French.

My parents were born and raised in Bretagne and Normandie, respectively. Think butter, think salt; say oui oui. When my grandmother Monique served her roast chicken, we passed around a glass bowl filled with“la sauce” as she called it—I later found out it was just drippings. This moment taught me that marketing works and meat juice is delicious.

If you’ve been paying any sort of attention, there’s very little I need to explain here.