Food has always been about more than what’s on the plate.

Some of my earliest memories are connected to food.

I grew up in Western New York and spent a lot of time with my Gram. I remember Saturday morning Elvis playing on vinyl while she was crafting something in the kitchen. We also loved finding places to eat. I remember steamed clams on the shore at Mystic Seaport, chicken and biscuits when I was a kid, and trips to the beach in Olcott that ended with seafood and caramel popcorn from a roadside stand. On those adventures, she often daydreamed aloud about owning a restaurant someday.

I didn’t know it then, but food was already teaching me something I’ve come to understand much better over the years:

Food connects us.

It becomes part of our families, our friendships and our memories.

From the dish pit to the kitchen

I got my first taste of restaurant life as a teenager, washing dishes at a restaurant along the lower Niagara River.

And I loved it.

Not necessarily the dishes—but the kitchen.

The noise. The pace. The camaraderie. The controlled chaos of people working together to make service happen.

Around the same time, I enrolled in a high-school food-service program through BOCES. Cooking came naturally to me, and before long I knew I wanted to see how far I could take it.

That began a career that took me through restaurants and hotels in Western New York and eventually brought my family and me to Pinehurst, North Carolina.

Learning to be a chef

Over the years, I worked my way through professional kitchens from line cook to Garde Manger, Sous Chef, Head Chef and eventually Executive Chef.

At Pinehurst Resort, I progressed through several kitchens—from line cook in the Carolina Dining Room and 1895 Room to Garde Manger and Sous Chef. I eventually took on leadership responsibilities at the Holly Inn, helping lead the culinary teams responsible for the 1895 Room, the Tavern and banquets, before returning to the main hotel as a Sous Chef running Garde Manger.

Those kitchens taught me far more than recipes.

They taught me how to organize a workstation so the work flows naturally. How to prepare before the heat comes on. How to pay attention to temperature, texture, smell and sound instead of relying solely on a timer.

Most importantly, they taught me how to think through food.

Anyone can follow a recipe. A good cook understands the recipe and learns to flow from one step to the next. A chef can take those same ingredients and techniques and transform them into a new experience—or bring a dish back to its roots with refined skill.

That doesn’t mean a chef always knows the answer. I certainly didn’t.

I learned on the fly, tripped along the way, took my bruises and kept moving forward. In a professional kitchen, when people are looking to you for an answer, sometimes you simply have to figure it out and make it happen.

From chef to home

Eventually, I learned that succeeding professionally and succeeding personally weren’t necessarily the same thing.

As I moved further up the culinary ladder, the job demanded more and more of my time. Eventually I decided my family mattered more than another title, and I stepped away from professional kitchens.

What I didn’t leave behind was everything those kitchens had taught me.

And cooking at home presented its own challenge.

Try spending years preparing food for hundreds—or sometimes thousands—of people and then figuring out how to cook dinner for a family. These days, most nights I’m cooking for two.

I’ve had to change the way I cook tremendously.

But I’ve also discovered how useful professional kitchen knowledge can be at home.

Knowing how to break down a chuck roll into steaks, roasts and ground beef can help stretch the food budget. Knowing how to turn basic ingredients into a tomato sauce means I don’t always have to reach for a jar. Knowing how to organize and prepare before I start makes dinner considerably less stressful.

And sometimes none of that matters because the Buffalo Sabres or Bills are playing and dinner is grilled Sahlen’s hot dogs withWeber’s mustard, mac salad.

That’s home cooking, too.

What I want to teach you

From Chef To Home isn’t about turning your kitchen into a restaurant.

What I want to share are the things professional kitchens taught me that can make your kitchen work better:

Confidence. Organization. Preparation. Technique.

I want to help you understand a recipe rather than simply follow it. I want you to know why you’re doing something, what to have ready before you begin, and what you should be looking, listening and smelling for while the food cooks.

Cooking doesn’t have to be stressful. It can—and should—be enjoyable.

I can’t make any promises about the cleanup. 😉

Welcome to From Chef To Home

Today, I have a much clearer understanding of what I want From Chef To Home to be.

You’ll find recipes here, but also professional techniques adapted for home kitchens, lessons I’ve learned over the years, things I’m still learning, and probably a few experiments we’ll figure out together.

Some meals will be ambitious. Some will be simple.

Both have a place at the table.

Ultimately, I’d rather help you become a more confident cook than convince you there’s one “right” way to make a recipe.

And if something you learn here helps food become a bigger part of your family, your friendships and the memories you create together, then From Chef To Home is doing what I hoped it would.

Food connects us all.

Welcome to my kitchen.

— Nathan