A Seat at the Table

I spend a lot of time on LinkedIn—more than I care to admit. A significant portion of that time is spent consuming content, reading articles, and engaging with posts about new product launches and industry news within the food and beverage sector.

While LinkedIn offers unique value, I often feel many of us lose sight of what sets the platform apart from other social media channels. LinkedIn isn’t just another place to scroll through pictures; it’s a platform for professional growth, networking, and meaningful exchange.

Time after time, however, I find I run into the same general interactions over and over again…

One of the most common interactions I see is someone posting a photo of a dish they’ve made or eaten, with little context, followed by a flood of comments saying, “Good job!” or “That looks delicious.” While positive, these posts and these comments offer little substance. It’s the equivalent of standing in a long public line just to give each other a high five. Congratulations on your schnitzel—but what’s next?

Another frequent scenario involves someone sharing news or sparking discussion around broader topics in the foodservice space, particularly QSR. Almost predictably, a chef responds with the generic, “Fast food is bad.” This kind of commentary falls flat—it lacks context, depth, comprehension of the topic, or actionable insights on why they feel this way or how they would propose improving dining culture at scale. Essentially, it adds nothing to the conversation at hand, just a “BOO!” in a crowded audience.

LinkedIn should be a space for showcasing your ability to drive change, offering insights, collaborating, and providing critical thought. This isn’t Instagram or Facebook, where minimal interaction is the norm and troll comments garner likes out of novelty. LinkedIn is a place for discourse, development, and professional evolution.

Historically, chefs haven’t always articulated their thoughts well or provided context for their opinions, and as a result, they’re often left out of high-level conversations. Despite setting the tables, chefs rarely get a seat at them.

My ask is simple: refine your voice and speak up. If you’re sharing something you’ve created, go beyond the picture— drive conversation, share the inspiration, the history, the context, the value, and what made the experience meaningful. If you disagree with something, explain why. Offer your vision for what needs to change. Move beyond “fast food bad” and contribute something substantive.

Chefs are the backbone of dining, but the more I observe, the clearer it becomes why we’re often sidelined in crucial high-level discussions. There’s a lack of depth, collaboration, a tendency to stick to the status quo, and a reluctance to challenge the notion that chefs have valuable insights to offer. We need to change this narrative. We are arbiters of flavor, the conduits for change, creativity, and deep experiential dining.

Be an agent of change. Be a thought leader. Provide encouragement as well as insight. Let your voice drive your value, and let your food reinforce it. As chefs, we need to do better. We should look to our peers in other industries who uplift, advocate, and push their fields forward.

“Good job” and “ew, no thanks” aren’t enough. The American diners we serve and the organizations we represent deserve more.

What if We’ve Been Doing it All Wrong?

I recently came across a quote from the immortal Mark Twain: “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it’s time to pause and reflect.” It’s a statement that’s been lingering in my mind, prompting me to examine areas of my professional life where I’ve simply gone along with established standards. One topic stood out more than any other: food trends.

Food trends are fundamentally fascinating in their lifecycle—from inception to growth, and finally, to ubiquity. They offer a window into what’s happening at the forefront of culinary innovation, providing an endless well of inspiration for product development, limited-time offers (LTOs), or the next big menu launch. But as valuable as they seem, there’s a growing sense that our obsession with trend spotting might be more about convenience than meaningful innovation. It’s an easy way to capture attention, distill complex cultural shifts into bite-sized concepts, and fuel a never-ending cycle of novelty.

But what if we’ve been doing it all wrong?

Throughout my career, I’ve sat through countless trend presentations from all the usual suspects. I respect the work they do, but I’ve noticed a troubling pattern: many chefs and industry professionals are using this information incorrectly. With an ever-expanding market full of competing brands, the drive for novelty, consumer engagement, and differentiation has never been stronger. And while understanding your core customer and brand identity is crucial, I often see LTOs and new offerings that stray far from a brand’s essence. We end up with products that customers never asked for—either too cautious to make a real impact or so disconnected from the brand’s identity that they fail, no matter how well executed.

The solution? Mission-driven development. Culinary teams need to be self-aware, self-motivated, and self-defining. Teams should live, breathe, and embody the brands they represent. Ideally, they’d be made up of people who would dine at these establishments and speak about them fondly even if they weren’t employed there. A clear, succinct mission should serve as the guiding light for every menu decision, allowing teams to ask: “Does this LTO or item align with our mission? Does it validate our purpose and resonate with our core audience?”

This might sound obvious, but ask yourself: Do all your chefs have a shared understanding of your culinary mission? If the answer is no, then perhaps it’s not as clear as it should be. In a high-stakes industry where chefs are entrusted with the reputation of major brands, it’s a valid concern that some may not have a deep emotional connection to their work. This disconnect can lead to uninspired development, wasted resources, and missed opportunities.

So here’s my challenge: walk into your kitchen tomorrow and ask your culinary team what their mission is. If they don’t all say the same thing, then there’s work to be done. My ask is simple: give your customers what they want. Data is valuable, trends are interesting, but genuine success lies in thinking critically, defining your path, and independently aligning your innovations with your customers’ needs and expectations.

Not every trend is right for every brand. Korean barbecue might not fit at a Midwest burger joint, and Italian sausage might be out of place at a Southern café. But if your customers are asking for it, then maybe it’s time to take a pause, reflect, and consider stepping away from the majority. Define your mission, connect with your customers, and create with purpose. That’s where the real opportunity lies.

Weather Proofed Eating

This morning, I woke up with the knowledge that a hurricane is making its way up the East Coast of the United States, headed toward my home and throughout the Northeast. As I reflected on the impending storm, a question came to mind: “What did early humans, do during times of harsh weather, wind, and heavy precipitation?”

After a bit of research, the answer was obvious. They were always prepared. The changing seasons and approaching storms were not surprises but expected events that ancient peoples planned for. Their day-to-day existence was rooted in the intent to not only survive but to thrive, no matter the circumstances.

In contrast, today, many of us might simply update our wardrobes with the seasons, and perhaps try to eat more seasonally. Some of us might even keep a stocked pantry, maybe even a larder with pickles, dried goods, and canned items. Although canning and preservation practices have fallen out of favor in recent generations, I foresee a resurgence as more people reconnect with their roots—and for good reason.

Ancient peoples didn’t have the luxury of grocery stores, refrigerators, or freezers to extend the freshness of their food. Instead, they maintained stocks of food that they worked hard to grow and preserve. When necessary, they would draw on these reserves and move to areas offering shelter until the storms passed.

This is a lesson I believe we can all learn from. With frequent power outages, natural disasters, and the struggles that accompany them, perhaps we should take a cue from our ancestors. Stocking and preserving food not only for day-to-day convenience but also for survival during challenging times is a practice worth revisiting.

Looking at today’s packaged goods and consumer habits, there seems to be a stigma around canned goods—a category that has lost some of its appeal. Yet, this could be a significant opportunity to revitalize an otherwise stagnant area of the supermarket.

One promising sign is the growth of tinned fish. New brands are offering a variety of fish, shellfish, and flavors that go far beyond what our grandparents might have found in their cans of sardines. (I personally love Ekone smoked oysters and everything that Fishwife has done to revitalize the category)

As seasons continue to change and storms grow more frequent and severe, companies and manufacturers face a unique question: “When communities and families lose power, will your product be in their cupboard to sustain and nourish them through tough times?” It’s a powerful question and one worth exploring.

Food is Thought

Forgive me, as this is my first blog post. I’m not exactly certain how often I plan to write, but I feel a certain desire to do so, so I will!

There is a classic saying, “Food for Thought,” which Merriam-Webster defines as “something that should be thought about or considered carefully.” This phrase has always fascinated me, partly because I love food, but also because it suggests that thought is nourishing, and worth taking the time to experience, consider, and digest. It beautifully conveys the interaction and importance of food within the human experience, while also serving as a metaphor for inspiration, contemplation, and creativity.

More and more it feels modern dining culture does not seem to view food as worth thought. We live in an age of hyper-convenience and ultra-processed foods, we live in an age where a meal can be purchased without interacting with another human being and consumed while staring into our phones, scrolling through emails, or social media.

Food has always been integral to human survival and social interaction. But in today’s world, where we no longer need to hunt or gather our food, its majesty and significance in daily life are beginning to erode.

At its core, food is a platform for social gatherings, sharing and experiencing new flavors, and sparking or driving conversations. It connects us to the past, to other cultures, and acts as a bridge from one person to the next.

Food is the edible history of human existence, a palate for telling stories both remembered and forgotten, food is the work andculmination of countless lives, resulting in a momentary experience for us to enjoy together.

We should not and cannot allow the thought and everyday significance to be removed from food.

So, where do I want this blog to start? I envision this as a platform to discuss ingredients, dishes, cultures, people, and the history and philosophy of food—what it has been, what it continues to be, and what it can be for future generations.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. Let's savor it, together… Just some food for thought.