06/21/2026
We’re back home in Arkansas after our trip north. It also happens to be Father’s Day, which has me sitting here reflecting on a lot of things.
The last few days took us to the Chicago area to compete in Culinary Fight Club, and that experience alone deserves its own podcast episode. So much happened in such a short amount of time. I walked away grateful, a little amazed, and still trying to process the fact that I got to stand shoulder to shoulder with chefs of that caliber and compete alongside them. This whole cooking journey still feels a little like a fever dream.
I’ll admit, I wrestle with imposter syndrome more than I probably let on. There are plenty of moments when I question whether I’m qualified enough to be doing what I’m doing. Culinary Fight Club gave me the space to quiet that noise for a while and focus on what I genuinely love: cooking. Seeing the results at the end of the night left me feeling inspired in a way that’s hard to explain.
What makes it all even stranger is knowing where this journey started.
5 and a half years ago, my father passed away. Today marks my sixth Father’s Day without him. His death set off a chain reaction I never could have predicted. Grief led me into culinary school. Culinary school led me to a passion for food. One opportunity led to another, and somehow that path led all the way to Chicago, making memories with my family and competing in a city I’d only dreamed about visiting.
Along the way, we met some genuinely good people. A gentleman named Scott quickly pointed us toward the best deep-dish pizza in town and helped us map out our plans for the day after the competition. Small interactions like that stick with you. They remind you that the world is full of people willing to share a little piece of their home with a stranger.
I understand a little better now why Anthony Bourdain encouraged people to travel. Not because of the landmarks or the bucket-list experiences, but because travel has a way of shrinking the distance between people. It reminds you how much bigger the world is than your own routine, while somehow making it feel a little smaller at the same time.
I haven’t traveled nearly as much as Bourdain did, but this trip gave me a glimpse of what he meant.
So today, I’m sitting in my recliner at home, thinking about the last few days. It’s Father’s Day, and for the first time, the weight of grief doesn’t feel quite as heavy as it once did. Don’t get me wrong. I still miss my dad. I always will. But I think I’ve finally reached a place where I’ve accepted his absence and found peace with where he is.
There are still good days and bad days. Grief doesn’t disappear; it just changes shape over time. But this Father’s Day feels different.A little lighter. A little quieter. And for that, I’m grateful.
