From Boardrooms to Kitchens: How Storytelling Became My Secret Ingredient

When I first went to college, I majored in Business and Communications. It wasn’t until my final years that I stumbled into the world of Public Relations—a discovery that felt like finding the missing piece of myself. But by then, I was already pot-committed to my business track. I did everything I could to pick up a minor in PR, but the timing was what it was.

After graduation, I packed up and moved to San Francisco—just as social media was beginning to flicker into existence. I remember walking into boardrooms, sitting down with CEOs, and telling them this wasn’t a fad. It was the future. I pitched them ideas on how to use these new platforms beyond sales and marketing—to actually own their media, shape their narrative, and connect directly with their audience.

Most of them didn’t listen.
Some hired out-of-work journalists instead of betting on someone like me.
That didn’t stop me.

As the years went on and I continued to work in the tech start-up world, I watched social media evolve. I saw firsthand how storytelling became the foundation of good marketing. People wanted more than ads—they wanted stories they could believe in.

Fast forward to today, and the landscape has shifted again. Now it’s all about six-second TikToks and viral trends. Attention spans have shrunk, but my belief hasn’t changed: real storytelling still matters. There are still people out there who read—who slow down enough to take in something real.
And those are the people I write for.

When I eventually transitioned into the culinary world and became a chef, I thought I was leaving all that behind. But the first time I visited my chef’s office, I realized he had a full marketing and publications team behind him. That was a lightbulb moment:

Everything I had learned in school and in the boardrooms still mattered.

Today, chefs aren’t just cooks.
They’re brands.
They’re entrepreneurs.
They’re storytellers.

They need to sell themselves, their food, and their vision. And they need help doing it.

When I started Love and Vegetables, I put everything I knew into play—branding, storytelling, marketing, community building. It worked. But after years of self-promotion and hustle, I hit a wall. I burned out.
I went offline.
I went back to nature.

Out there, in the quiet, I rediscovered my balance. And when I came back, I knew exactly what I wanted to do:

Help chefs and creators tell their stories. Build their brands. Fill their dining rooms. Not just with ads, but with soul.

Today, I bring together my experience in business, public relations, tech start-ups, marketing, social media, and culinary arts to help chefs and creators thrive in a world that’s still hungry for real stories.
Even if the algorithms say otherwise, people still crave authenticity.
And that’s what I’m here to serve.