Becoming the Chef She Needed

I grew up in London, where Sundays were sacred in my house. In the UK, a traditional Sunday roast typically includes roast chicken, beef, or pork served with potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, and all the trimmings.  But in my Jamaican grandmother’s kitchen, it was a little different. We’d have jerk chicken or oxtail alongside the traditional sides, sometimes with rice and peas. These meals were about gathering together, talking, and laughing around the dinner table. That’s where my love for cooking began.

I’ve never really considered another career. When I was younger, I enjoyed running track, but nothing made me feel the way cooking did. But culinary school wasn’t an option for me because we couldn’t afford it. So at 15, I went to a town away from my own and walked into a restaurant to beg the chef for a job. That’s how I got my foot in the door.

My first kitchen job was all over the place, peeling vegetables, picking herbs, putting away deliveries, washing dishes, and cleaning stations after service. I was working 18-hour days, six days a week, making about 300 pounds a month, and living on my own by the time I was 16. It was exhausting, but it taught me resilience.

People doubted me in those early years. I was “too small,” “too different.” No one really wanted to teach a little teenage girl how to be part of the team. Instead of letting it discourage me, I used it as fuel. I watched everyone, tasted dishes when no one was looking, and drew sketches of station setups in my notebook long before smartphones existed. I learned by being observant, curious, and determined.

My philosophy in the kitchen is simple: I’m here to throw dinner parties every night. My favorite memories are of my family sitting together, eating and talking with no phones or TV,  just connection. My grandma hosted those meals and took pride in them, and I want to create that same feeling for the people I cook for.

The kitchen has been my safe place in more ways than one. In my late teens and early twenties, when I couldn’t afford groceries, my chef let me come in on my day off to eat the family meal and take home basic ingredients. That generosity helped me get through some tough months.

Opening my own restaurant, @marketterestaurant, is one of my proudest achievements. It gave me the chance to take everything I’ve learned, the precision and attention to detail from fine dining, the flavors I grew up with, and combine them into something that’s mine.

For me, cooking has always been about more than what’s on the plate. It’s about bringing people together, the way my grandmother did every Sunday, and creating a space where everyone feels welcome.

I run my kitchen like a pirate ship filled with people from different places, with different stories and personalities. Diversity is important to me, not just for the creativity it brings to the food, but for the richness it adds to the team.

One thing I hope to see more of in the industry is women in leadership roles. I didn’t work for a female chef until I was 14 years into my career, and that needs to change. I want to make sure the next generation doesn’t have to wait that long to see women leading from the front.

Photo credits to @thenatalieblack