Hi there, I’m Jacqueline Ingersoll , 43 years old —welcome to my kitchen here in sunny Orlando, Florida. These days, you’ll find me barefoot in the garden snipping herbs for dinner, coaxing golden crusts out of my oven, and typing out recipes with flour-dusted fingers and a very curious cat nearby. It’s a far cry from the fire and frenzy of the Miami kitchens where I first earned my stripes. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.
I used to wear crisp white chef’s coats and navigate the hurricane of high-end restaurant service in Miami. If you’ve ever worked in a kitchen like that, you know the sound: the constant clang of pans, the rhythmic shouting of orders, the sizzle of scallops hitting a scorching hot pan. It was a beautiful kind of chaos—demanding, exhausting, and electrifying. For over a decade, I poured everything I had into those kitchens, chasing perfection on every plate. I learned discipline, resilience, and the art of building flavor in layers. I also learned that even in the finest restaurants, the most memorable meals are the ones that feed more than just hunger—they feed connection.
That lesson stuck with me.
Eventually, the late nights and the pressure took a toll. I craved something slower, more personal. I didn’t want to just serve food anymore—I wanted to share it. So, I packed up my knives and moved north to Orlando, where the pace is a little gentler, the skies are impossibly blue, and the markets overflow with citrus, avocados, and more kinds of peppers than I can count.
This blog was born out of that change.
Now, I create recipes not for critics or elite diners, but for you—for home cooks who want food that feels like home, tastes like sunshine, and doesn’t require a culinary degree to pull off. I still use the tricks I learned in those Miami kitchens, coaxing depth out of a humble onion, finishing sauces with just the right splash of acidity, or layering herbs in a way that wakes up the whole dish. But I translate those restaurant secrets into something approachable, joyful, and real.
You’ll find a little bit of Florida in everything I make—fresh, bright, and sometimes a little spicy. I lean into bold Latin flavors, Southern comfort classics, and ingredients that thrive in this heat and humidity. If I had to describe my style, I’d call it “laid-back elegance”—food that’s full of heart and flavor, without the fussy frills. Think: slow-roasted mojo pork on Sunday, a tangy mango slaw on Tuesday, and buttery biscuits any day you need a little comfort.
This space is more than just a recipe archive. It’s a table I’ve set for anyone who loves to cook—or wants to learn. Whether you’re here to try something new, to bring a little warmth into a weeknight dinner, or to simply read and dream about your next meal, I’m so glad you’re here.
So pull up a chair. Ask questions. Make a mess in your kitchen. Burn something once in a while—it’s part of the process. And when it all comes together—when the flavors sing and your people gather around the table—I hope you feel what I’ve always believed, that food is love you can taste. With warmth and butter always