About Baker Meets Chef
Baking has always been part of my life—you could say it’s in my blood.
My grandfather was the real baker. After leaving Germany during WWII, he apprenticed in the Jewish Ghetto in Shanghai while waiting to immigrate to the U.S. Once here, he joined the army as a cook and continued learning the trade. His favorite story? He’d throw one whole egg into breakfast so if someone found a shell, they’d think they were getting real eggs instead of powdered ones.
After the war, my grandparents settled in San Francisco, where they ran an ice cream shop and later opened their own bakery in the Polk Street District—Newmeyer Bakery. By the time I came along, the shop was gone, but the baking wasn’t. I grew up in their kitchen, rolling dough, braiding challah, and later baking chocolate chip cookies with my mom.
Today, I’m still baking—constantly. Sometimes it’s seasonal, sometimes I’m testing a new recipe, and sometimes I just need chocolate cake.
And then there’s the chef.
I’ve never met someone more clearly doing exactly what they were meant to do. According to his mom, he basically learned to walk by heading straight for food—and even as a kid, he’d sit and hum while eating.
At seven years old, his great-grandmother told him:
“One day you’ll get married, and your wife won’t want to cook for you. You’ll need to fend for yourself.”
So she taught him how to cook eggs—and he never stopped.
Raised in a Panamanian family, he grew up surrounded by bold Caribbean flavors that still influence his cooking today. Since then, he’s worked in over twenty restaurants, spanning everything from Latin to New American, barbecue to pizza. He doesn’t just love food—he loves figuring it out.
Together, we are Baker Meets Chef.
Two cooks. One tiny kitchen.
She follows recipes. He breaks them.
We live in a 120-year-old Brooklyn apartment with a galley kitchen, limited counter space, and way too many cooking tools. Somehow, it works.
Here, we cook for each other, for friends, for family—and for anyone who wants to join us. Sometimes we follow the rules. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s heat, and sometimes it’s a little bit of both.
Welcome to our 77 square feet of chaos.
