It all started many, many years ago in my Italian Grandmother’s Connecticut kitchen. I was three and couldn’t stuff the 20 pound turkey perfectly, so I threw it on the floor. My father knew I would someday have a career as a chef. Yes it’s true, most chefs are quite temperamental. And sort of dysfunctional.
Welcome to Big City Kitchen. I’m Amanda, personal chef by day, frustrated creative-type by night. And weekends.
I concocted this website in order to vent and welcome total strangers into my life.
My illustrious cooking career began when I attended culinary school and quickly discovered it wasn’t for me. I went on to apprentice in a few impressive kitchens, eventually running some of them, then somehow found my way to San Francisco and started my business, which is still going strong. I don’t claim to know everything about cooking, so don’t email me and tell me I suck. This blog is an experiment of sorts.
I share a small piece of San Francisco real estate with my family, which consists of two young daughters, a lactose intolerant husband, two cats and a rescue dog who speaks Taiwanese in his sleep.
I have an obsession for most things organic (even underwear!) photography, travel of any sort, music, and lots of other stuff which probably wouldn’t interest you. I’ve recently been declared an Italian citizen (my daughters as well) and still don’t understand America’s obsession with cooking programs about all things cupcakes.
I take the photographs on this blog, unless otherwise noted, so don’t steal them. I’m quite handy with a knife, so please ask first.