Moving to Ann Arbor, Michigan

I never pictured myself living in Michigan. Honestly—why would I?

Of all the places on the map, Michigan was never on my list. I can’t even give you a solid reason. Chalk it up to one of those unconscious biases you carry around without realizing it. Growing up in Pennsylvania had its perks, but it also came with a narrow frame of reference. Somewhere along the way, I decided Michigan was the kind of place you lived only if you were born there and had no choice in the matter.

Turns out, I was in for a surprise. And surprises, by definition, don’t announce themselves.

From what I knew of Ann Arbor, it seemed like a promising place to launch my personal chef venture. “Tree Town” has its own charm—home to the University of Michigan, Domino’s Pizza, and Borders Books, just to name a few. Add in a rich mix of cultures and you get a small city with an unmistakably intellectual, artsy vibe. Tree-lined neighborhoods, bike lanes, bookstores, coffee shops, and independent restaurants give it a relaxed yet cultured feel. It’s no wonder it consistently ranks among the most livable cities in the country.

But three weeks after we arrived, Covid-19 shut everything down. Overnight, the vibrancy of this community faded to black. For the next two years, my work revolved around recipe development and picking up jobs wherever I could.

I joined Katherine’s Catering on the west side of town. Up until early March 2020, business was booming—then the virus wiped out nearly half of it. I helped develop menus for home-delivered meals, because that’s all anyone could do. Weddings, parties, gatherings—gone. “Heart of the Home” was born out of necessity, and it kept the company afloat for a while. But eventually, the economy couldn’t sustain it, and I was laid off.

After some time, Sur La Table began reopening their cooking classes in Arbor Hills. I stepped in as an instructor and found myself energized by the challenge—prepping ingredients, organizing equipment, and teaching groups ranging from two to sixteen. The prep could be stressful, but the teaching was a joy.

Meanwhile, Z’Chef sat dormant until September 2021. Then I met my first client, and my personal chef career took flight again. I was encouraged—thrilled, really. The community I had hoped would embrace my style of cooking finally did. One client became two, then three, and the momentum continued.

Since then, I’ve cooked for intimate dinners, large catered events, and weekly meal deliveries for clients across the area. Six years in, I can say without hesitation that this place—this city and region I once dismissed—has become a genuine joy to me. It’s home.

Launching Z’Chef PCS

Suddenly the light bulb came on—why not start a business doing what I loved?

Launching the business in 2017 was exciting, though not especially lucrative. In truth, it was a slow and somewhat pale beginning. The area simply didn’t support a personal chef business. This was my home turf, the region where I had grown up, and the Pennsylvania Dutch culture prized self-sufficiency. People cooked for themselves, and they cooked well. Looking back, I never actually researched whether personal chefs existed in Berks County, but I suspect there weren’t many. The food culture I was moving toward just didn’t quite fit the place I came from.

My time creating menus at Adam2 Café and traveling had expanded my palate and imagination. I had discovered a world full of flavor and possibility, and it was clear I was heading in a different direction than my kinsfolk. I had been raised on simple fare—meat and potatoes, honest and good food—and there is nothing wrong with that. But I always found myself curious about what lay beyond the familiar. Food became a way to explore the world and satisfy a deeper hunger to learn and experience something new.

To my surprise, shortly after officially forming my LLC, I landed my first client. He was a very wealthy man who lived alone and wanted me to cook for him regularly. I still remember standing in his kitchen during that first visit, pausing in the middle of my work just to take in the moment—what I was doing and where I was doing it. Maybe the grammar of the thought wasn’t perfect, but the feeling certainly was. It was an awesome moment for me.

Soon, other opportunities followed. I began catering private dinners for an affluent clientele—bankers, lawyers, and others who appreciated the experience I was offering. It was rewarding work and an eye-opening glimpse into a small demographic that valued good food prepared well. For a time, I had found my place, and I was their guy to deliver the goods.

This continued for about two years. Alongside the private work, I was still cooking at Common Ground for retreats and special events. Yet despite the satisfaction of the work, it never quite provided for us financially the way we had hoped. It all felt like a dream that had not fully taken shape.

Then everything changed.

Carrie was offered a job in Whitmore Lake, Michigan, just twenty minutes from Ann Arbor. Our long-term plan had been to move there eventually to help care for her mother, who had been widowed for two years, but that move wasn’t supposed to happen for another three years. Life, however, had other plans. By February of 2020, we were packing up and heading to Michigan.

Three weeks after we arrived in Ann Arbor, the world shut down because of COVID-19.

It was a strange and unsettling time. Almost overnight, life as we knew it changed completely.

You know the rest of that story. . . . !#?