Executive Pastry Chef of Lafayette Grand Café & Bakery

It’s not easy to keep the team inspired all the time, especially when people come to work for all different reasons—not everyone wants to be the next pastry star. I think it’s important to recognize what makes someone enjoy their job, and continue to give them the tools and opportunity to do so. For budding creatives, I like to put some new menu items/changes on their shoulders and guide them through the creative and R&D Process.

A calculator and an app on my phone that converts imperial to metric (and vice versa) are vital tools for my job!

When I’m in the kitchen, I try to be as present as possible and just have real conversations with my cooks and fellow managers.

Literally everything I’ve done—none of it has been 100% me. For example, I’ve often been asked, “Was the Suprême (Lafayette’s viral croissant) your idea?” I always struggle with answering “yes” because, yes, it was my idea, but that is not even 1% of the work that makes it come to life daily. Dozens of people are behind this—not only those making the dough, pastry creams, and glazes, but also the baristas that serve hundreds of guests with a smile, the stewards that scrub every sheet pan, and the managers that keep the service running smoothly. It doesn’t happen without a concerted team effort, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love being a chef and being in the trenches with my team; for me, that is where the glory is. Not on TV or IG.

I find inspiration from many places. My childhood. Simple Pleasures. Beautiful produce and products. Meeting other passionate people.

Stress management is essential in hospitality, especially in the kitchen. The ability to adapt is one of the most important skills when it comes to handling stress effectively.

My mentor, Richard Capizzi—who I miss dearly—used to say, “Take the stairs.” (Because the other option is the elevator.) Always take the stairs. Do the work. Don’t look for shortcuts or the easier path. I look for people who embody that mindset—those who work hard, embrace the process, and are willing to learn at all costs, even if it means failing and starting over.

When I was leaving Lincoln, Chef Jonathan Benno told me, “Never settle.” I still ask myself that question all the time: "Am I settling right now, when I’d rather be _________?" (Fill in the blank.) At the time, I took his advice to mean that you should always give 110% and never compromise. More recently, that same reminder has unexpectedly helped me find balance—in my career, my personal life, and even in my food.

I've learned so many lessons over my career! When I was younger, I used to think being a chef was about practicing an art form—that I was an artist, and that making a beautiful plate of food was the epitome of being a chef. I don’t necessarily think that’s incorrect now, but there is much more to practicing this art than cooking alone. What makes you great is your generosity—whether it’s inspiring and mentoring your cooks, or anticipating guests’ needs to create a memorable experience. Being a great chef means always keeping the guest experience at the heart of everything you do.

My father always drilled into me the importance of leading by example—so, thanks, Dad. In the face of adversity, I make it a point to slow down, stay calm, and make thoughtful, logical decisions.

In 2010, I was fortunate to be part of the opening team at Lincoln Ristorante under Chefs Jonathan Benno and Richard Capizzi. It was the most focused, precise, and demanding kitchen I had ever worked in. Everyone operated at an incredibly high level; it was a place where iron truly sharpened iron—and I absolutely loved it. After an intense couple of weeks leading up to our New York Times review, it finally came out: two stars. Everyone was stunned. The kitchen, usually filled with a steady hum of activity, fell completely silent. The entrance to the kitchen was tucked deep in the underbelly of Lincoln Center. It was so cavernous that you could see the door—behind which the kitchen buzzed with life—from nearly 200 feet away. The morning after the review, I noticed something taped to that door from a distance. As I walked down the long handicapped ramp toward it, the words slowly came into focus. When I reached the door, I could finally read the sign: “What We Do Next Defines Us.” I’ve never seen anything so simple and powerful inspire a team that had just had the wind knocked out of them. It was pure Chef Benno—his quiet, deliberate leadership style—something I still deeply admire. What I took away from that moment was this: let your work speak for itself, so that someone else’s opinion of it matters a little less. Always in the back of my mind, both in and out of the kitchen, is the Japanese proverb: “Fall seven times, get up eight.”