I’m not a farmer myself, but I’ve learned a lot from the people I work with and buy produce from, many of whom use regenerative practices. A big part of it is crop rotation and techniques like no-till farming. For example, one farmer I love working with doesn’t till the soil between beds. When he harvests a crop, the old plants are composted right into the soil, and he adds more compost before planting the next round.

Another key part is building ecosystems. Farmers encourage beneficial bugs, fungi, and microorganisms that naturally help protect crops from pests. Healthier soil leads to fewer weeds and fewer destructive pests, because the system balances itself.

One flower farmer I know recently started doing a sugar test on her leaves using a Brix meter. The idea is that the sweeter the leaves (thanks to healthy soil and good amendments), the less likely pests are to eat them—because many pests can’t digest high-sugar plants. So, if you’re seeing a big pest problem, it usually means there’s an underlying soil problem.

Soil health really comes down to the microbiome underground—the bacteria and organisms doing their work. If you nurture them, the whole system thrives. It takes time to amend the soil and build that balance, but once you create a healthy ecosystem and stop disturbing it with constant tilling, spraying, and chemical inputs, everything works better.

Conventional farming often takes the approach of “nuke it and it’ll be fine”—but that kills not just pests, it harms the soil and the people too. Regenerative farming is really about working with the ecosystem rather than against it.

That’s definitely a big part of our vision. Once we move to Kentucky, we’d love to find about a five-acre property and start doing regenerative farming there, with a focus on heirloom varietals.

There’s a seed company here in the U.S. called Row 7, co-founded by chef Dan Barber—who really helped spark the farm-to-table movement in the States. What’s amazing is that instead of breeding seeds for yield, like most industrial agriculture does, they’re breeding seeds for flavor.

The results are incredible. For example, they developed something called Badger Flame beets. They look a bit unusual—almost like a tuber—but they’re unbelievably sweet. They don’t have that earthy taste that turns a lot of people off from beets; instead, they taste almost like candy.

Row 7 has a whole line of seeds like that, producing flavorful, unique varieties people may not have encountered before. That’s the kind of produce I want to grow: things that might seem unusual at first, but once people taste them, they realize it’s the best version they’ve ever had.

Beyond just farming, we’d also love to create an event space alongside it—somewhere we could host long table dinners, cook with the produce on-site, and really create a full experience that connects people to food and the land.

For me, it’s really about connecting the dots between all the things my husband and I are passionate about. In a way, it feels like both of our soul’s callings—to go deeper into the food system and create opportunities for people to connect over food.

I can see us hosting classes on the property at some point. My husband, especially, has been through a journey with this. He’s been a chef for over 20 years, and the restaurant world really burned him out. Toward the end, I think he lost some of his love for it. But this past summer, he started farming part-time—just to have something different to do—and it’s helped him reconnect with that passion again.

One of his hopes is that the property could become a space for other chefs and line cooks who are burned out. Not because they hate the work, but because the grind has taken its toll. We imagine offering what we call a bit of “dirt therapy”—letting them spend time farming, then taking what they’ve grown and cooking it in our kitchen. It could be a way to help people rekindle their love for food, while also building community.

I’d love for it to be a kind of oasis—a retreat where people can slow down, reconnect, and find joy in food again.

Honestly, I would define it this way: if you’re starting with great ingredients, you’ve already won half the battle. The key is preparing them simply, in a way that allows their natural flavor to shine. You don’t need to add eight different spices or a dozen extra ingredients to make a dish amazing.

For me, it’s about leaning into the simplicity of the vegetable, fruit, or whatever ingredient you’re working with. A perfect example is when I’m baking with fruit—I look for spices or flavors that complement the fruit, and use them to enhance its natural taste. I’m not trying to compete with it or cover it up. I want the fruit to taste even more like itself.

It’s also about seasonality. Using what’s fresh and in season at that moment makes all the difference—though I’ll admit winter makes that part a little tough! Still, the idea is to highlight what’s already there, and simply amplify it.