Ever since my husband and I moved to Hawaii for three months in September 2009 to camp on an organic coffee and mango farm, our relationship with food has never been the same. Nestled on 11 lush acres overlooking the breathtaking Kealakekua Bay, something shifted in both of us. We began to see food not just as sustenance, but as something sacred—grown from the earth, prepared with intention, and deeply nourishing.

I became obsessed with our outdoor kitchen, spending what felt like every waking hour cooking. I had never felt so alive, so connected to the process of creating meals from ingredients harvested just steps away. It was on that farm that my true food journey began.

Since then, I’ve honed my skills—studying nutrition, working in several professional kitchens, and developing a culinary intuition that seemed to ignite the moment I set foot in that Hawaiian kitchen. Mark, my husband, has always loved the food I prepared. At first, he joined me in the kitchen simply to lend a hand—he’s that kind of man. But over time, his role evolved. Curiosity sparked a passion: experimenting with flavors, balancing meals, and discovering his own rhythm in the kitchen.

We spent years cooking side by side, creating vibrant and delicious meals together. As I mentored him, I watched his confidence grow. In the past year or two, he’s truly come into his own, no longer seeking validation from me, but trusting his instincts. I lovingly call his style “Markrobiotic”—a minimalist approach to ingredients and flavor, yet somehow his dishes always land with a full, satisfying finish.

Yesterday, I came home to one of his creations, and I have to say—it was incredible.

Give a man a meal, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to cook, and he feeds you for life.