Who is this little cup of cooking verve, anyway?

       Welcome to Demitasse, a record of my joy in creating beautiful, delicious, exquisite edibles.  My name is Kelsey and after five and a half years working as a restaurant chef I am striking out on my own, doing that which I love most- working closely with clients to create absolutely individualized small events that are true collaborations between artist and patron.




My story.
       I grew up in a deeply creative environment; my writer mother and musician father could have had no other household!  I was fortunate to attend arts magnet schools for my entire education, and the fantastic Sarah Lawrence College for my undergraduate experience.  I met and fell in love with the performing arts as a gangly eleven year old, and after playing Amaryllis in The Music Man, devoted all of my extra-curricular time to pursuing my dream of performing at the professional level.  This ambition evolved through the years, plunging me into serious studies of classical singing, acting, and all forms of dance- with my beloved ballet at the helm.  A passionate reader with a deeply-running imagination, I dreamed of performing in period pieces:  Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, Shakespeare, Restoration drama, Noël Coward, Jane Austen adaptations.  I spent my junior year abroad in Florence, Italy, where I studied l'arte di bel canto with a wonderful private teacher, had an internship as a "macchinista" at the first baroque-style theatre in Europe, Teatro della Pergola, and had the seminal experience with the food and food culture of Italy that would change my life.


       I graduated from college with a degree in Theatre arts and literature.   I was hell-bent on moving to the bay area and performing- so imagine my surprise when, just as I arrived with my headshots and audition material at the ready, I found my motivation waning.  Slowly, painfully, I discovered that I didn't want it.  Then chaos descended:  Who was I outside of these activities?  What on earth did I have to offer if not as a performer?  Where do I go?  What do I do?  I'd never been so uncomfortable in my own skin, crawling as it was with these questions.  I had to slow down- and I did something I'd never done before:  I simply asked myself what the most interesting thing was, and the answer was obvious:  dinner.  

Sunday morning.  Apple-raisin hand pies

       My time abroad had changed my relationship to food and cooking.  I spent my entire senior year cooking every weekend, making big batches of wondrous delicacies out of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, getting to be very good friends with epicurious.com, challenging myself to make things I'd never made before and packing my own cooking to fuel my long days on campus.  I'm not exactly sure when this satisfying hobby turned into a full-fledged obsession, but it wasn't long.  Dinner!  What a marvelous necessity.  


       I had been introduced to Oliveto Cafe and Restaurant by some of my dearest friends, and as I was sitting at my parents' house in surprise at the giant lightbulb that had popped up as a path into professional cooking, I noticed that it was accompanied by a buzzing in the belly of my memory, 

Beef tenderloin with puff pastry, wild nettles
and cornichon-black pepper gastric

the seed of my meal at Oliveto had sprouted.  I wrote the kitchen and owners a letter bursting at the seams with my earnestness, explaining who I was and where I'd been, and offering myself for whatever they could possibly use me for- my only hope being to "someday pick up a knife and be a part of the magic that is Oliveto".  I worked for free for two weeks and then started full time as a line cook, working through each station to a degree of mastery that had me in management before I knew what was happening.  I just left the restaurant after five-and-a-half grueling, satisfying years having risen as high as I could have, to the post of Chef de Cuisine.  


       Throughout my years cooking at Oliveto, a few things weighed on me, things that for me as a chef, dampened the pure exuberance and joy I'd found in cooking in the first place.  It bothered me that I couldn't engage more with the patrons, that I never saw my food enjoyed, that the only feedback I'd ever hear through the front of the house staff was the negative sort.  I am a social person, I am drawn to teaching, I love to share my excitement about my work-- and in a restaurant kitchen this was superfluous, my desire to connect over my food with patrons really had no place.  

Paella!  Georgia white shrimp, Alaskan
halibut and chorizo.  

       This new venture has that impulse to connect and commune over food and cooking at its center.  If I  can share my excitement and commitment to delicious, nutritious cooking, to the dear and brilliant farmers I've had the privilege to work with for years, to the transformative magic of the art of cooking (I mean, do you KNOW the astounding things that can be done with a humble head of cabbage?  With a dozen eggs?)  with those I work for, then in my mind I will have succeeded.