I attended many retreats in my early adult life to facilitate my own healing and growth. Although I was not a cook at the time, I intuitively understood food and sensed that it played a vital role in supporting my healing. Yet retreat after retreat, I felt the meals failed to nourish me in the way I truly needed.

I began to wonder: if I were the caterer, how would I do it differently? I fell in love with cooking for others, inviting family and friends over for lavishly long lunches. When laughter echoed across the table and sauces spilled onto freshly pressed linen, I knew I wanted to do this for a living.

Along the way, I discovered many powerful physical, somatic, psychological, and ethereal healing modalities. I became a Lomi Lomi and Kahuna bodyworker and trainer, which led me to run teaching retreats of my own. On one particular retreat, over twenty years ago, our caterer failed to show up, and I was unexpectedly thrust into the role of cook. I hid myself in the kitchen—whizzing, whisking, chopping—but quickly learned that the chef was the most visible person on the retreat.

Food, to me, is a conversation with the divine. When I’m in the kitchen, I feel so grounded and present that everything else falls away. And when I’m cooking for others, I don’t feel as though I’m really there—almost as if someone, or something, moves through me and takes over. I call this my Zen state because I feel a profound sense of oneness. I intuit the food and feel a deep connection to it, like a conduit for a higher power to converse with ingredients, making magic from a few simple things plucked from the soil.