Night Cheese, Castelvetrano Olives, and Why I Became a Personal Chef

Before I became a personal chef, I was a nanny in Boston’s South End. On my lunch breaks, I would walk over to Eataly inside the Prudential Center, where my love affair with Castelvetrano olives began.

I had a very specific little lunch ritual: a small package of buttery green olives, a bottle of Perrier, and whatever small cheese sample caught my attention that day. I would take everything to a park near the family’s home, find a quiet place to sit, and eat my olives and cheese while softly singing, “working on my night cheese” as an ode to my hero, Tina Fey.

During my twenties, Tina was my guiding light through the confusion of adulthood. I read Bossypants and immediately felt a kinship with her. I, too, was a Midwestern woman trying to find her place in a Kim Kardashian world. Tina made me feel seen.

Later, 30 Rock became my emotional support show. Bad day at work? 30 Rock. Confusing situationship? 30 Rock. Generally confused by life? Again, 30 Rock.

There was something about the way Liz Lemon unabashedly loved food that felt familiar to me. Food wasn’t something she delicately picked at while pretending not to be hungry. It was comfort, joy, personality, and sometimes the only reasonable response to an unreasonable day. I understood that completely.

To me, those lunches in the park were the ultimate way to spend a break. They were simple, peaceful, and just a little bit indulgent. Looking back, I think I instinctively knew that food is a story to be told and felt. Food doesn’t have to be elaborate to feel special. Sometimes, the smallest details are what turn an ordinary part of the day into something you look forward to.

As a nanny, part of my job was doing the grocery shopping. The mom would send me to beautiful little specialty food shops around Boston, and I fell completely in love with the experience. I loved wandering through the aisles, looking at the ingredients, and tasting the things I had only just discovered. I loved grocery shopping then, and I still love it today.

After shopping, I would return to the family’s home and make dinner. At the end of the day, the parents could come home, sit down with their children, and enjoy a meal together. They didn’t have to immediately start planning, chopping, or worrying about what everyone was going to eat. Dinner was simply there, waiting for them.

That was when I began to understand that I wanted to do this on a larger scale. I didn’t only want to cook beautiful food. I wanted families to feel comforted by the meals I placed in front of them. I wanted to give them a moment in their day when everyone could sit down, exhale, and feel quietly taken care of.

Years later, that feeling remains at the heart of Lemon & Sage.

Of course, the meals have evolved beyond my little park lunch of olives and cheese. But the intention behind them hasn’t changed. I still believe in the quiet luxury of having something delicious waiting for you. I still believe food can transform an ordinary part of the day. And I still believe some of the most meaningful moments happen when people finally have the time and space to sit down together.

This blog won’t be a perfectly curated food diary. It will be a place for stories from my life as a personal chef, thoughts about food and family, favorite ingredients, occasional recipes, and probably more than one Liz Lemon reference.

So, welcome. I’m Natalie, the chef and founder behind Lemon & Sage. I’m so glad you’re here.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some night cheese to work on.