Giddy as a schoolkid.
A special Mother’s Day tribute, plus a call to action and some recipes for the holidays this week.
Apparently, I used to shout out in the middle of restaurants as a kid.
My mom would tell me that whenever we were out to eat, I’d suddenly make a loud, screech-like sound. She would even act out the flinch and jump it caused her for me, stiffening her arms like she’d just been startled from behind.
I always assumed it was because I was upset. Crying, maybe?
“No,” she’d say. “Quite the opposite. You were just happy to be there.”
Well that that tracks. Restaurants always have been—and still are—my happy place. Not to mention, I’ve devoted my entire career to the foodservice industry.
Maybe it was the energy. The hustle and bustle. The sensory overload my brain was (and still is) constantly seeking. I get bored easily—and restaurants are anything but boring.
Fast forward, and go figure: My first job was in foodservice, serving up sandwiches and salads in the main concession stand at Ravinia Festival. When I was about 9 or 10, I started accompanying my mom (who this newsletter is for) on her “secret shopper” reviews for Lettuce Entertain You restaurants. We got to be one of the first diners to experience Oprah Winfrey’s Hat Dance restaurant. When I was 12, I got to go with my mom to Julia Child’s 80th birthday at Shaw’s Crab House in Chicago. I got to meet Julia in person and shake her hand. My mom would later attend a brunch gathering at her house outside of Boston that same year.
Then came waitressing at restaurants in my late teens and moving up to the “big leagues” at the Cheesecake Factory. And here I am, 20 years later, still in the industry—as a writer and magazine editor. I got in early and never left.
My story is not unique.
From chefs and servers on the front lines to everyone supporting them behind the scenes, everyone enters this industry from wildly different paths. There’s a common thread, though: Very few of us ever leave (except for the small wave during the during the pandemic—but those were dark days).
Over the years, I’ve worked with just about every corner of the food world, from chefs and restaurant owners to servers and managers, culinary school instructors and deans, kitchen designers and consultants, foodservice equipment manufacturers, dealers, and service agents, chain restaurant IT and construction teams, foodservice directors at schools and hospitals, dietitians and research culinarians, food brand developers, foodservice sales reps and more.
I’ve written for Foodservice Equipment & Supplies, restaurant development + design, FSR (Full-Service Restaurant), QSR (Quick-Serve Restaurant), Restaurant Owner, Restaurants & Institutions, Restaurant Business, Chain Leader, HOTELS and Flavor & The Menu magazines, worked with major food industry research firms, written for the National Pork Board.
I developed recipes for the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board—just like my mom did.
And this past year, I’ve been editing and writing for US Foods, working with sales teams, Food Fanatics chefs, marketers and operators—all centered around one question: How can we help restaurants make it work? Because it’s not easy out there.
Tonight, I’m heading to my annual meeting for Les Dames d’Escoffier Chicago (I built their website!)—a prestigious society for women in foodservice of which I’m very proud to be a second generation member (following in my mom’s footsteps). The mix of professions in our organization is incredible, from accomplished women chefs and restaurant owners to hotel dining directors, wine and beverage pros, artisan food makers, caterers, shop owners, and recipe developers, food writers, editors and cookbook authors like me.
It’s diverse, dynamic—and honestly, kind of magical. Lately, I’ve realized that I spend so much time talking to these people and writing about them, that I forget to share this world with you. I assume maybe no one cares.
But it’s actually fascinating when you zoom out and see just how many people are involved in feeding us—every single day.
On one hand, I’m here trying to help you cook better (and easier) at home because going out to eat can be expensive and maybe doesn’t always fit in with our nutrition goals. On the other hand, my editorial work is helping restaurants and chefs create menus that make you want to dine out more.
But the truth is, we can learn from—and need—both worlds.
For example, the next issue I’m working on for Food Fanatics magazine is very consumer-driven. Research shows that people (you and me included) are craving more protein, smaller portions and more colorful vegetables and fiber to support health and wellness. And that’s having a direct impact on how industry professionals design menus—not just for restaurants, but also for hospitals, colleges and universities, and even corporate dining. You and I—are literally helping chefs think about that when they design menus now.
At the same time, none of us want to eat boring, plain chicken breast and steamed broccoli at home. So, the real question is, how do we take what chefs know—and apply it at home? How do we make healthy food taste exciting and satisfying? How do we turn a simple protein bowl into something your whole family actually wants to eat?
We need to cook at home more—because let’s be real, everything is so expensive right now.
But we also need restaurants. They light something up in us. They pull us out of routine. There’s something oddly comforting (at least for me) about the energy of a busy dining room. After being on a “spend diet” for a few months and recently going out again, I almost felt that same urge to shout out—like I did as a kid.
And then last week, my best friend told me her daughter randomly said, “I want to do what Amelia does—I want to be a food critic.” My friend corrected her: “She’s not a critic—she’s a writer for the industry. That means she has friends, not enemies.”
Because it is an honorable profession—and one that my mom enjoyed also. It might not be the most lucrative financially, but it’s rich in something else entirely: people, connection, joy—and the simple, powerful act of cooking, making meals and eating. This Mother’s Day, I’m forever grateful to my mom for bringing me into her world of pure joy, pleasure and happiness. And now, I’m inviting you into this world with me, too.
So instead of sharing a typical Chef School tip for my Monday newsletter today (although you can go here for all the archives), I want to ask you a few questions to help me better plan these newsletters and other tips and content I can share with you as I build this Stack (here’s my Cook Like a Chef website landing page if you want to check it out and see recipes and other stuff in one place, plus a little walk-through):
What are your biggest pain points in the kitchen?
What do you struggle with on a daily basis?
What’s a restaurant dish you wish you could recreate at home?
What have you always wanted to master—but haven’t yet?
Feel free to click any of the buttons below to leave a comment, message me directly or join the Cook Like a Chef chat. Ask me! Tell me! I’m listening.
For Cinco de Mayo:
Karen’s Famous Margaritas and (non-alcoholic) Lime Coolers
My crack quesadillas (aka, crispy, cheesy quesabirria tacos) using your slow cooker or Instant Pot from The Weekly Plan this week
For Mother’s Day Brunch:
Mom’s Asparagus Eggs Benedict (with a couple hacks for making it easier but still like a chef at home)
For more recipes, consider upgrading to access the growing collection!
I’ve been on the cook once, eat twice kick, offering a few from-scratch recipes plus ideas using the leftover cooked protein and vegetables for easy, no-cook lunch or dinner options. This week’s plan included those crack quesadillas, plus an easy roast chicken recipe and a salmon dish. Consider upgrading to get these weekly Sunday newsletters packed with recipes, ideas and a shopping list to take the guesswork out of your meal planning for the week! With a paid subscription, you also get full access to all The Weekly Plan archives where I literally map your meal plan for the week, plus access to my recipe collection and Chef School library.