Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Labor Day may feel bittersweet for most, but for me—a chef living with sarcoidosis and heart failure—it’s a relief. Summer’s heat, crowds, and entitlement give way to autumn’s crisp air, golden leaves, and the quiet comfort my body and spirit crave. Here’s why fall feels like freedom, and why I’ll always celebrate the end of summer.
If you’ve ever tried to recreate a TV chef’s “simple” dinner and ended up wondering if you accidentally auditioned for a survival show, you’re not alone. As someone juggling sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a full-time chef life, let’s just say I’ve learned exactly how misleading those glossy cooking programs can be. And no—I’m still not over the raw chicken incident.
Living with sarcoidosis is like starring in a medical drama no one else can see—one where you look perfectly fine on the outside while your organs do the cha-cha backstage. Back in 2011, when all of this felt new and terrifying, I kept most of it to myself. Now, looking back from 2025, I can’t help but revisit how invisible everything looked… especially to everyone who insisted I “didn’t look sick.” There’s a lot more to the story, but you’ll have to come inside for the rest.
After 30 years of welcoming others into my home, cooking heartfelt meals and creating warm spaces, I realized I’ve rarely been invited back. This post explores the quiet pain behind one-sided hospitality and the longing to feel like a guest in someone else’s home—especially as a professional chef who just wants to be included.