I suppose there’s a way to go about this—write an intro post of sorts chronicling how I got here, what I’d like to do with this, what Kitchen Witchcraft is all about anyways—but instead I’m going to take us on a wild, most-likely non-linear journey into the depths of my silly, creative, little brain that most of you are just getting to know.
It starts with a workshop.
And The Bear.
And pesto spaghetti.
Which is, perhaps, a recipe for another time.
In late 2022, I was laid off from a job that, on paper, was the dream job. In the end (and in retrospect), it was a redirection that garnered more flowers than I ever could’ve predicted. After digging myself out of the shock/funk/depression/wtf-of-it-all that made up the following few weeks post-layoff, and completely uncertain of what I was going to do next, I leaned into the opportunities that began to present themselves. I was connecting with like-minded creators and community organizers that were interested in collaborating, so I figured, why the hell not? Wasn’t now the time to take the leap and start sharing my food with other people? I had the time and enough curiosity to say ‘yes.’
The workshop we planned, produced, and executed was to be a gardening/cooking workshop: an Italian food-themed community event meant to teach people how to cook with food they’ll also learn to grow. But what started as a half-gardening, half-cooking workshop quickly transformed into a half-gardening workshop, finished with a 3-course pop-up dinner.
Casual, I know.
This is a great time to confess that I am in fact a part of Team-Never-Known-Chill-A-Day-In-My-Life.
At least, creatively (and sometimes, personally).
It wasn’t until the week leading up to the workshop that I began to question myself, haunted by a single thought:
Who was I to think I had anything to teach anyone about food—let alone Italian food?
In my very culturally-blended existence as a Chinese-born adoptee, raised in a Jewish home by a single mother in the South East, what the hell did I know about Italian food anyways?
It’s funny how our brains work—and how our first instinct is often to be the biggest asshole to ourselves.
We ate a lot of Italian food growing up, because my mom is a New Yorker, and because pasta was always an easy option. When I moved to Texas, there weren’t a lot of great Italian options where I lived, so the conclusion that I came to was that if I wanted good Italian food, I’d have to learn how to make it myself. So I began to learn, and I fell in love with the process, with the reverence and ritual that comes with it, and the true simplicity that is traditional Italian cooking.
Instead of reminding myself that I’ve invested countless hours of my time, my joy, my effort into being a student of Italian cooking—I leaned into something else to give myself validity in teaching this workshop.
This is another great time to tell you that I was (am) an avid fanfiction reader (and writer, mind your business), and that this is also where The Bear comes into play. (I know you’ve been wondering how it all ties together).
Instead of sitting in my enoughness in a moment of vulnerability, I developed a fully fleshed out headcanon to justify my lack of Italian heritage:
“She’s not Italian, but she married into the family.”
And the aforementioned family just so happens to be the Berzatto family from The Bear, because the ‘B’ in Jennie B could be for Berzatto.
And because I’m Team-No-Chill-Never-Had-Chill-Never-Will-Have-Chill, and Team-Laugh-At-My-Own-Pain, I went ahead and told this story to every single one of my friends who would entertain it. No, really. It got so out of hand that my chiropractor’s office changed my name to Jennie Berzatto in their book system as a joke that absolutely went too far. (They’ve since changed it back, thank you for asking).
It wasn’t until a few months later that it hit me: this inside-joke-headcanon-turned-outside-joke created by me and a close friend was just a defense mechanism, a reaction to some very real imposter syndrome I was experiencing.
I promise. I’m actually quite good at not gaslighting the shit out of myself and feeling my feelings, courtesy of the five years and counting with the same therapist, but this was not one of those times.
It was all fun and games (and literal fanfiction headcanons) until I reentered the workforce and looked back on my six months of unemployment. In that time, I produced two food-focused workshops, started a monthly bake sale box called Baked Beans, and most importantly, discovered my culinary voice. It was one of the most stressfully uncertain times of my life, and yet somehow one of the most creatively fulfilling times in my life as well. I grew into my own artistry and expression in a way that allowed me to be my most authentic and fully-expressed self—something I wouldn’t have had a chance to do without the time I had while being unemployed.
More than anything, I began to connect with my community through food—something that’s been so important to me since I taught myself to cook in the era of the food blog.
That’s what food’s always been about for me: connection, expression, joy, and bringing people together.
I think it’s why I wanted to start this substack. I’ve always wanted to write something that could connect and create community, and I’m in a place of new beginnings, ready to tell stories.
I want to share the orange chocolate cupcake recipe I made for my best friend. I want to have a conversation about what you ended up changing when you made it yourself. I want you to know that there are so many different ways you can throw a dinner party. I want to write about the ritual of food and how important it is to our daily lives. And most of all, I want all of us to take the time to create, to feed ourselves, and to feed each other.
I’m no expert, but I AM Jennie married-into-the-family Berzatto (kidding, but who wouldn’t want to kiss Carmy just once). I’m also a home cook, and sometimes a pop-up cook, and an avid dinner party host, and a lover of focaccia.
Let’s have a conversation and make a little kitchen witchcraft.




Loved this! We have to talk more community building.
Loved everything about this wild journey and I can't wait to read more <3