Simmering Down Self-Doubt

I’ve always been drawn to kitchens. Growing up, I was either helping my dad, who owned restaurants, make Sunday dinner or standing beside my grandmother as she cooked. When I was seven, I got my first cookbook, and that was it. I was hooked.

My first job was as a bus girl at fourteen. I moved through the ranks quickly, learning the rhythm of restaurants, the rush of service, the energy that fills a dining room at its peak. But it wasn’t until I got to the CIA that I realized where I belonged wasn’t in the dining room, but behind the line. I became obsessed with everything about hospitality. That school transformed how I thought, 

My first real kitchen job was at The Dutch, working for Andrew Carmellini. It was intense in every way —mentally, physically, emotionally—but it taught me how to work, how to prepare, and how to find joy in the grind. That kitchen changed me. It’s where I learned that the most rewarding moments are often born from the hardest ones.

I’ve had to fight through my own doubts because confidence, knowledge, and experience don’t come easily. I’m competitive, so if I weren’t fast enough or didn’t get something right the first time, I’d get frustrated. The hardest person to overcome was myself. But that drive, that stubbornness, is what made me better.

There’s one day I’ll never forget. I was still at The Dutch, and I added too much cayenne to an eggplant dip. I tried to hide it, hoping no one would notice. The next morning, my sous chef pulled me aside into the walk-in. He didn’t yell. He just made it clear that I had let my team down. That moment changed everything for me. I promised myself I’d never hide a mistake again. I’d own it, fix it, and learn.

My staff inspires me now. They’re my constant reminder of why I do this. Their stories shape the menu, and their creativity keeps me moving forward. I love to travel, but more than anything, I love to listen to people, to what they need, to what they feel. Listening is a skill that makes you not just a better chef, but a better human.

We’ve opened multiple restaurants together, and some of my team have been with me for more than seven years. We’ve gone through the stress, the sleepless nights, the chaos of openings, and every time, they’ve been there. That’s family.

Opening my first restaurant and being nominated for a James Beard Award in our first full year was surreal. Seeing us recognized among the 50 best restaurants by USA Today was the kind of moment that makes every sacrifice worth it. But honestly, what means the most is the team I’ve built. That’s my biggest achievement.

I love the chaos of restaurants, that noise, the laughter, the guests smiling when the food hits the table. But I also see what needs to change. The long hours, the pressure, the toll it takes on mental health. It’s time we talk about it. It’s okay not to be okay. We need stronger networks, open conversations, and leadership that listens.

My hope for the future is more collaboration between restaurants, artisans, local farmers, florists, and communities. I want to build bridges between people who might never work together otherwise. That’s where the magic happens.

Cooking is more than a career. It’s a lifestyle, a language, a way of telling stories without saying a word. You have to embrace every part of it, the exhaustion, the thrill, the creativity, because that’s where the real fun lives. For me, it’s in that quiet moment when I realize: this dish, this team, this life, it’s all part of the story I’m meant to tell.

Photo credits: Images 1, 2, 4, 8, 12, and 14 by @tsgnaples.