Hey there! I’m Ethan Reynolds, a 42-year-old chef living deep in the heart of Austin, Texas. My kitchen is my sanctuary, my playground, and sometimes, my therapy room. I was born and raised right here in the Lone Star State, where I grew up watching my grandmother whip up dishes that could bring a tear to your eye. She taught me that food is love, and that stuck with me like the scent of smoked brisket on a Sunday afternoon.

My journey with cooking started humbly, flipping omelets at a college diner to help pay for school. I wasn’t studying anything food-related at the time—actually, I thought I was going to be a physical therapist. But the more time I spent behind that sizzling flat-top, the more I realized I felt more at home in a kitchen than I ever did in a lecture hall. Fast forward a couple of decades, and here I am, still standing behind a counter, but now with a few more knives, a lot more spice, and a mission: to help people eat well and feel even better.

I don’t believe in “healthy” food that tastes like cardboard. No, sir. I believe in food that feeds your body and your soul. I lean into whole ingredients, seasonal produce, and bold flavors that wake up your taste buds without putting you into a food coma. Think smoky roasted vegetables with a punchy chimichurri, grilled salmon with a chili-lime glaze that’ll make your toes curl, or a dark chocolate avocado mousse that somehow tastes like a dream but leaves you feeling light and energized.

Healthy desserts are my not-so-guilty pleasure. I love creating sweet treats that don’t just satisfy cravings but actually nourish you. From almond flour brownies that are gooey in the center, to no-bake coconut-date bars and creamy banana nice cream, I’m always experimenting with ways to make desserts that feel indulgent without weighing you down.

What drives me is the idea that eating well shouldn’t be a punishment or a luxury. It should be joyful, accessible, and rooted in real flavor. I’ve messed up plenty—burned nuts, overcooked quinoa, even managed to light a towel on fire once. But every misstep taught me something valuable, and each plate I serve carries a bit of that journey.

When I’m not in the kitchen, I’m probably out at a local farmers market, chatting with growers and sniffing tomatoes like a weirdo, or riding my bike along the Greenbelt to make room for the next feast. Food is my language, and I love sharing it with fellow enthusiasts who crave dishes that are as nourishing as they are satisfying.

So whether you’re a lifelong foodie or just dipping your toes into the delicious world of wholesome eats, pull up a chair. I’ve got something cooking that’ll make you feel right at home.