That Damn Book and How I Ended Up A Food Photographer

It feels like a long and winding road, but looking back now, it all makes so much sense.

In 2010, just a couple of years after moving to North Carolina, I was laid off from my career as a pediatric polysomnographer. I was newly divorced with three small kids, and I had to figure life out fast.

Around that same time, I was diagnosed with celiac disease. This was back before gluten free lived on every shelf in the store. I'm Italian, so when the doctor told me, I let him know I did not think it was possible, given my heritage and my deep love for all things carb. I wanted my pasta. I wanted my bread. Giving them up was not on the table.

So I did what any stubborn Italian woman would do. I built an allergy friendly catering business. I woke up at 4am to make bread. I worked craft fairs. I became known for bread and ravioli that actually tasted authentic, landed wholesale contracts, leased a commercial space, and hired staff. I got home at 11pm more nights than I can count, juggled three kids’ schedules, and leaned on my mom to babysit more than I would like to admit.

And all of that was a lot. If you are here, you already know the food industry can be exhausting and thankless. With three kids, it eventually became too much. Soon after I sold that business, I met my husband, and he convinced me to write a cookbook. (If only you could put music to that sentence, because it deserves a little zing.)

So I set out to create a cookbook. And I did.

Sort of.

Creating a cookbook is hard, and I was completely winging it. Back then, my husband was not yet living overseas, and he taught me just enough InDesign to be dangerous. This was before Canva was everywhere, so I learned another brand new skill and ran with it. I laid out the entire book myself. I created the recipes and tested them over and over. Then came the photos.

I tried to take them myself. I had no clue what I was doing. Eventually I hired a friend who was a professional photographer. I paid him $1200, it turned into a two day shoot, and I remember thinking he was not paid nearly enough. He was a good sport about it, but food was not his expertise. He was really just doing a favor for a friend.

The images were beautiful, for my style back then and for what I thought I knew and wanted.

So where the hell is this book?

That is the question my husband still asks me. I call it that damn book now, because I never had anyone guiding me. I didn't know what a book map was, let alone what I actually needed to tie everything together. And these days, as a food photographer myself, I could never use those old images. Not because they were not good, but because they are not my style, and I'm a control freak at heart who would want to redo every last one.

It gets better. My catering business burned me out so completely that you will not catch me testing recipes to finish that book. I hate even boiling water for dinner now. And the whole book was built around pairing every dish with wine, back when we were personally keeping the vineyards in business. Today, I can't even smell alcohol without triggering a migraine.

So that damn book sits in a metaphorical drawer in my computer, wishing I had just finished it back then, and knowing I never will.

Don’t be like me!

Here is the beautiful part. That book, unfinished as it is, led me to food photography. That one messy, overwhelming, undercharged photoshoot set me on the path to exactly who and where I am today.

Since then, I have had the privilege of flying all over the country, working with incredible chefs, restaurants, bakeries, and the culinary mentors who serve them all. I craft their dishes to stand out from the rest. I built a studio and a body of work that is artistic, editorial, and holds a very specific, very special place in the culinary world.

I also became a board certified Doctor of Functional Nutrition with a clinical focus in migraine. Once again, building the tools I never had, and hopefully changing some lives along the way.

That first cookbook shoot is what sparked my love for the art of food. It is where my heart and soul intersect with what I do. It lets me bring a dish to life and capture its richness in an editorial way that so many photographers have stepped away from, because the demand now is to compete with AI and crank out over contrasted, commercial, click and go work. So many people do not take the time anymore.

I do.

I understand food as a chef, which means I learned to style it properly, slowly, and with care. I was lucky enough to sit for hours with a single cake, examining every centimeter, learning what was and was not working in front of my lens, and figuring out how to light it in a way that highlighted exactly what I wanted you to see. I have had big, humbling flops and I have had amazing successes, and I learned from every single one.

So if you are standing at the beginning of this, overwhelmed and unsure, I want you to know something.

I get where you are, because I was you.

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That's how I got here. The long way, the hard way, the way that taught me exactly what I never want you to go through.

If you have a book inside you, or food worth showing the world, do not do it alone the way I did. Let me hand you the map I wish someone had handed me. I get where you are, because I was you.

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