Captivated by her grace as she effortlessly transitioned between setting the table, the gentle simmering of the kitchen, and the delicate precision of hand-piped ice cream. There was a steady cadence to it all. I figured if I immersed myself deeply enough in her craft, maybe one day I could embody a little of that essence too.

She passed away when I was young, and at the age of 18, I found myself training at Silwood, the same culinary school where my grandmother once lectured. From my early days of working at The Test Kitchen, a fine dining restaurant in Cape Town, to travelling the world working as a private chef, I have come to learn that the craft of a chef is far more than serving up delicious dishes. To me, food feels like a language of the world. One that lets us connect across borders and backgrounds. It reveals the variety of ways people live, what brings them comfort, and how they care for themselves and each other. The journey of how an ingredient reaches the plate has a story of its own. 

My career has taken me on a nomadic path, guided by a curiosity to keep learning through travel. My background in dance gave me an awareness of rhythm, from the quick, precise pace of a service kitchen to the slower, seasonal cycles we move through. As someone constantly adjusting to new places and tempos, I’ve come to rely on grounding rituals — tools that keep me steady.

These are the practices and recipes I want to share, with the hope that they offer others a sense of ease, especially those short on time, looking for simple, manageable ways to care for themselves.

The nonchalance and charm of the Mediterranean way of life is one that I resonate with the most.