Cook like
you mean it.

It started with family. My parents ran a food business and the kitchen was never just a workplace — it was where we lived, where we worked, where everything happened. That's where I fell in love with it. Not in a culinary school. Not on a stage. Around a family table, and behind a pass.

I started properly at 14 — loading the dumb waiter, washing up, doing whatever needed doing. Working alongside my parents taught me something no kitchen brigade ever could: that food is personal. It's not just a product. It's care, effort, and identity on a plate.

I've cooked in Australia and Ireland. I've run businesses that thrived and businesses that failed — and I'm not afraid to say it. The failures taught me more than the successes ever did. The long hours, the pressure, the relentlessness of service after service. You either fall in love with it or you don't last. I fell in love with it.

Yes Chefo came from all of that — and from a name a chef who worked for me used to call me. Chefo. Simple as that. It was endearing at the time, the kind of thing that happens between people who've worked a hard service together and come out the other side. I always remembered it. Knew it meant something more. Just didn't know what — until now.

I built this to make the industry better. To help chefs at every level operate with more confidence, more precision, and more creativity. And to give home cooks the same tools and inspiration — because the love of food doesn't care what kitchen you're standing in. It never did. My parents taught me that.