Setting the Table

I'm not a chef. I'm not an educator. So let's get that out of the way first.

Growing up, my dad was always thinking about the next meal — dinner would barely be over before we were already talking about breakfast, not out of anxiety, but devotion. He cared about maximizing every moment at the table, and I inherited that: the instinct to make every taste bud count.

My mom ran the opposite kitchen. She was precise, controlled — Martha Stewart in her own right — and there wasn't much room for mess in it. I understand why.

I've also spent years circling back to hospitality because of that instinct my dad gave me. I split my summers catering and nannying, serving lobsters and chowda in people's back yards and pushing kids in playgrounds. After graduating, I was working for peanuts in publishing in New York, so I worked in kitchens helmed by Mario and Todd (IYKYK) just to cover my electric bill. I later introduced the Unreasonable Hospitality philosophy into my former company, because I knew that mentality was the sauce behind not only great customer service but great humans.

And that, my friends, is what I want to do today.

Now that I'm a mom myself, I've become passionate about letting my own girls experiment in the kitchen as often as possible — not to make them chefs, but to make food something they reach toward instead of away from.

That's Little Mixers. Three generations, three different relationships with food — devotion, control, and now curiosity.