one year of private chef life

and it's all love

One year 

One year of private chef life 

One year of falling in love with each place I’ve been. 

If you know me well, then you’ve heard me talk about this recently; this realization that the power to fall in love lies within me. From the inside out. Not the other way around.

I’ll explain —

When I first moved to Los Angeles, the pandemic was just beginning to bloom —March 2020. A hard time to arrive anywhere new. But I had wanted it for so long; the sun shone every day, the bougainvillea burst languidly over fences, and the ocean had a magnetic pull. After long masked-up work days I would pickup friends in my ‘pod’ and we would drive West to swim by moonlight (something I would never consider doing now after 4 years there! We were crazy!) I went hiking and explored Silverlake’s secret staircases. I skated with friends who encouraged me to embrace my queerness. I threw dinner parties to test new menu items. I made a home. I was so enraptured — I thought it was specific to LA; I thought that LA was the only place I belonged.

But then this opportunity knocked and I left for DC (‘ew’ I thought, ‘why would anyone leave LA for DC?’) But then… fuck! Then I fell in love with DC too. The row houses, the gingko trees, the way leaves sometimes occupy your whole field of vision, turning it an ombre red in the fall or the most verdant green in the spring. Being able to walk everywhere. How integrated the city is. Summer thunderstorms. And the people there; my new friends who know how to gather community anywhere, turn words into magic, move with their breath, and talk about books, wine, podcasts or music endlessly. I love them. I am so lucky. 

And then Hawaii. I fell in love again. With the hikes especially — I love an elevation gain. I would wake up with the sun every morning and get my quads burning up the side of Olomana or Koko Head or Moanalua… I fell in love with my little yoga community, practicing in the mornings as the sun glittered over the Waimanalo marsh; with the simple vegan meals Serena cooked from that same yoga studio — the only meals I really wanted to order out because she, like me, makes food that feels alive with the place it was grown in. I fell in love with the little Kailua farmers market and the way it rains almost every day but just for a few minutes. The way the clouds are always changing and how you can be in bustling Honolulu and then at the top of a forested mountain watching the sunset minutes later. Hawaii was so hard, the steepest learning curve — dinner parties every night, working long hours on this tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean — isolation settled deep in my bones. But did I fall in love with that place too? Yes.  

And now as I type this, my things have been packed and shipped off of a different island, many miles away. I fell in love with Martha’s Vineyard the first time I came here. Or rather… I had this feeling — there isn’t a word for it in English (of course) but in Japanese it is koi no yokan — not love at first sight, but rather the feeling upon first meeting someone that you will inevitably fall in love with them. Island magic. I first came here last summer because I was invited to participate in this all-female dinner event honoring the farmers and artisans of the island. It was also a celebration of our black and brown experience in the culinary industry. The event itself was everything, but the moment I felt koi no yokan was on a morning run. I followed paths in Katama, winding towards the water as they got narrower and more overgrown until I ended up dead-ending at an inlet. Four beautiful white swans skimmed across the water, mist rising as the cool of the morning slowly burned off and it felt like a quiet moment meant just for me. I could feel change coming. I didn’t know then that I would be back a week later to do a tasting for the family I now work for. I couldn't have imagined then the summer that I have just wrapped up here, let alone the year that has brought me to this point.  

A year that has been punctuated with a surprising amount of love. 

I think maybe the ability to fall in love is a marker of aliveness.

Or at least a sign of embracing the inherent romance of life.

Because when I feel like everything is a mess and my possessions are scattered around this country, when I’m stressed and lonesome and hating the transitory nature of LIFE and particularly this job — there is still all this love. All these and places and people and experiences I’ve found that have made my heart swell and break and grow larger. 

Even in a year that has been punctuated with moments of deep isolation and painful growth edges. A year of mistakes (so many mistakes) of trial by fire, being nervous and leaning into fear...

All of this has taught me that at the end of the day there is love holding it all together. Phew!

 When it really comes down to it, isn’t peanut butter love? Aren’t cookies love?

In Ayurveda, emotional elements are tied to our tissues. Nothing in our body is purely mechanical; physiology and psychology are tied. Our fatty tissues are connected to our ability to give and receive love. When the energy pertaining to these fatty tissues is balanced, we are able to form secure attachments and express love freely. When diminished, we find it hard to connect, our ability to love and be loved is diminished. When in excess, we become anxiously attached to a conditional type of love; we become possessive and fatigued.

I’ve been making a version of these cookies pretty much all summer long for myself and my friend Kim (@drinkbooks) who was with me in the Vineyard for two months (thank god). They are dead simple, and healthy as far as cookies go. Sweet but balanced. We would eat a half before going on a run through the state forest most mornings.

Make them when you need a little extra love to balance you out.

2 c medjool dates, pitted

2 c peanut butter (pretty much the whole jar, unless you’re buying your peanut butter from costco)

vanilla paste (really way better than vanilla extract. I never measure this. give it a nice little glug in there! vanilla is the best)

1 t baking soda

1 T maldon salt

1 t apple cider vinegar

I promise you can eyeball most of this recipe. It is very chill.

Add dates to a food processor. You don’t need to soak them first. Blend them until they’re a bit broken up. Don’t worry too much about them becoming a smooth paste. Add the remaining ingredients. Blend until a cohesive dough forms. Scoop and press into whatever shape you want. The little fork marks are a nostalgic touch. Top with a little more Maldon if you like it salty like me. Bake at 325 for 10 mins. Done!