What I Wish I Knew Before Becoming a Freelance Chef and Entrepreneur

In 2023, I wrote an article about transitioning from working in a commercial kitchen to becoming a freelance chef. I spoke about identifying your strengths, building a portfolio, finding opportunities and creating a career outside traditional hospitality.

Reading it again three years later, I realise there's quite a bit I would approach differently, starting with how I described myself.

I've never necessarily viewed myself as a traditional chef. I love cooking and the creativity that comes with it, but my interests have always extended beyond the kitchen. I've been equally curious about food science, ingredients, consumer behaviour, product development and the process of turning ideas into products or experiences that people can enjoy. As I've grown professionally, I've found myself increasingly drawn to understanding why things work and how food connects with people, science and business.

Perhaps that's partly why I struggled with the demands of traditional hospitality. I enjoyed aspects of working in professional kitchens, but the hours and intensity eventually took a toll on my physical and mental well-being. I wanted to explore the wider food industry and find ways to apply my skills that aligned more closely with my interests.

Good Food Studio, which I founded in 2016, became an opportunity to do that. Through the business, I explored recipe development, food styling, culinary experiences and other creative projects. I also learned what it meant to build and fund a business from the ground up, often with limited resources and considerably more responsibility than I'd anticipated. Alongside running the business, I took on short-term contracts over the years.

By 2023, I was already several years into that experience. I understood the possibilities of working independently, but I was also learning some difficult lessons about entrepreneurship that hadn't made their way into the article.

Now, in 2026, I've returned to full-time employment. It's been an adjustment after years of working for myself, and mentally, there have been aspects of that transition that felt like a sacrifice. At the same time, I'm immensely grateful for the opportunity, the stability it provides and the space it's given me to rebuild.

Looking back, I think the original article was about more than becoming a freelance chef. I was still figuring out where I belonged professionally and what kind of career I wanted to create. Three years later, I have a better understanding of what matters to me, although I'm still learning.

You Don't Have to Fit the Traditional Definition of Your Profession

One of the things I wish I'd understood earlier is that having a culinary background doesn't mean your career needs to revolve around cooking professionally.

The food industry offers opportunities in research, product development, sensory science, consumer insights, education, ingredient innovation and many other disciplines. Culinary knowledge can be valuable in all of them, particularly when combined with an understanding of science, business or consumer needs.

I've always enjoyed the practical side of food, but I've also been interested in the questions behind it. Why does an ingredient behave a certain way? What makes a product appealing to consumers? How do we translate an idea into something that can be developed consistently and produced commercially?

Those interests have become increasingly important in how I think about my career.

I would encourage anyone entering the food industry to explore different roles before deciding what their professional identity should look like. Spend time understanding your strengths, seek opportunities to learn from people working in other disciplines and remain open to interests that develop along the way.

If I could tell my younger self one thing about this, it would be to stop worrying so much about fitting a particular definition of what a chef should be. There is room to build a career around food without spending your entire professional life in a kitchen.

Entrepreneurship Requires More Than Being Good at What You Do

When I started Good Food Studio, I had ideas, culinary knowledge and a willingness to work. I valued the freedom to develop services, explore creative projects and make decisions about the direction of the business.

What I underestimated was how much of my time would be spent on everything surrounding the work I actually enjoyed.

Running a business meant finding clients, preparing quotations, coordinating suppliers, managing bookings, sourcing ingredients, handling administration and following up on payments. On some days, I would move between recipe development, client communication and operational planning, all while trying to find the next opportunity.

When you're building something with limited resources, you often become responsible for several functions at once. That can teach you an enormous amount, but it also makes it difficult to separate your professional work from the demands of keeping the business running.

I learned that being skilled at delivering a service doesn't automatically mean you know how to build a sustainable business around it. Pricing, financial management, sales, systems and client relationships require their own attention.

I also came to understand the importance of focus. Good Food Studio allowed me to work across different areas of the culinary industry, but every service came with its own operational requirements. Catering, cooking classes, food styling and recipe development each required different resources, preparation and planning.

Being capable of delivering a service wasn't always a sufficient reason to offer it. I needed to consider whether it made commercial sense, whether the business had the capacity to deliver it and whether it contributed to the direction I wanted to pursue.

If I were starting again, I'd be more deliberate about testing services, understanding customer demand and building systems before expanding. I'd also seek support earlier rather than assuming I needed to manage everything myself.

Funding a Business From the Ground Up Changes How You Think About Money

This is probably one of the biggest lessons entrepreneurship has taught me.

When you're funding a business yourself, every decision about spending money carries weight. Equipment, ingredients, transport, venues, marketing and other operating expenses all require resources, often before a client has paid for the work.

A project can look profitable when you consider the amount quoted, but the actual return may be considerably smaller once you've accounted for production expenses, preparation time, labour and overheads.

Cash flow presents another challenge. A business can have confirmed projects and still struggle to meet immediate expenses if payments are delayed or significant costs need to be covered upfront.

And when your personal income depends on the business, financial uncertainty can affect almost every part of your life.

I wish I'd understood earlier how important it was to distinguish between revenue, profit and money actually available to spend. I would have paid closer attention to working capital, financial reserves and the true cost of delivering each service.

I'd also have been more realistic about how much money the business needed to generate to support both its operations and my personal living expenses.

There's a great deal of encouragement for entrepreneurs to invest in their ideas, take risks and keep going. I think we also need more conversations about the financial consequences of those decisions, particularly for people building businesses without substantial capital or external funding.

If I could advise someone starting today, I'd encourage them to understand their financial position before making major commitments. Where possible, test your business model with paying customers, separate personal and business finances, and build a reserve for unexpected expenses or quieter periods.

Passion may motivate you to start, but financial planning plays an important role in determining how long you can continue.

The Emotional Cost of Building Something Yourself

I don't think I fully appreciated how closely my identity would become connected to Good Food Studio.

When you've invested years of effort, money and creativity into building something, it's difficult not to take its successes and setbacks personally. A difficult month can make you question your decisions, while an exciting opportunity can give you renewed confidence in what you're building.

The uncertainty can be exhausting, particularly when you're responsible for finding the next project, meeting financial commitments and making decisions without knowing how things will turn out.

There's also pressure to keep moving forward. Entrepreneurship is often associated with resilience and perseverance, and I think that can make it difficult to acknowledge when you're struggling.

I've had to reconsider what resilience means to me. Sometimes it involves making difficult decisions, asking for help, changing direction or recognising that the way you've been operating is no longer sustainable.

I've also learned how important it is to protect your identity outside your work. A business can be something you're immensely proud of without becoming the measure of your personal worth.

If I could speak to myself in 2023, I'd encourage her to take better care of the person building the business. To pay attention to her health, relationships and peace of mind, and to recognise that those things deserve consideration when making professional decisions.

Returning to Full-Time Employment in 2026

This year, I accepted a full-time position after years of working independently.

I won't pretend the decision was entirely straightforward. Entrepreneurship had become such a significant part of my professional identity that returning to a structured working environment required a change in how I thought about my career.

I'd grown accustomed to making my own decisions, managing my schedule and determining which opportunities to pursue. Giving up some of that independence was difficult, even though I recognised the value of the opportunity in front of me.

At the same time, I was incredibly grateful.

After years of building and funding a business, having a more predictable income and the opportunity to focus on a defined professional role offered a different kind of stability. It also gave me room to rebuild financially, mentally and professionally.

My current work has allowed me to explore interests that have become increasingly important to me, particularly innovation, research and product development. I've enjoyed being able to contribute my experience within a wider team, learn from other specialists and engage with questions that extend beyond the practical preparation of food.

I think the experience has also challenged some of my assumptions about independence.

Working for yourself gives you control over certain decisions, but it can also create financial and operational pressures that influence how freely you're able to make choices. Employment introduces a different structure, with its own responsibilities and limitations, but it can also provide stability, opportunities to learn and space to plan for the future.

Neither path guarantees fulfilment. What matters is understanding what you need from your work at a particular stage of your life.

I don't view accepting employment as an end to my entrepreneurial journey. Good Food Studio remains part of what I've built and who I am professionally. The experience of running it has shaped my understanding of business, creativity, problem-solving and the commercial realities of the food industry.

I'm learning that changing the structure of your career doesn't mean abandoning everything you've worked towards.

What I Would Tell Myself Then, Knowing What I Know Now

If I could sit down with the version of myself who wrote that article in 2023, I wouldn't discourage her from pursuing entrepreneurship. I know how much she would learn, the opportunities she would create and the confidence she would develop through building something of her own.

But I would encourage her to approach the journey with a little more perspective.

I'd tell her to remain curious about the wider food industry and not feel confined by the traditional expectations of being a chef. To invest in her professional development and recognise that her interests in science, innovation and business deserve as much attention as her culinary skills.

I'd encourage her to understand her finances earlier, to be more selective about the opportunities she accepts and to build systems that make the business less dependent on her doing everything.

I'd remind her to ask for help, to make room for a life outside work and to avoid measuring her progress against what other entrepreneurs appear to be achieving.

Most importantly, I'd tell her that she's allowed to change her mind about what success looks like.

In 2023, I placed considerable value on the freedom of working independently and building something of my own. Those things still matter to me, but I now place greater importance on financial stability, meaningful work, personal well-being and having the capacity to enjoy the life I'm working towards.

There may be seasons when growing a business is the right priority and others when learning, stability or rebuilding need more attention. I'm becoming more comfortable with allowing those priorities to change.

In 2026, I'm still a chef, a consumer scientist and an entrepreneur. I'm also an employee, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to continue developing professionally while creating a more stable foundation for myself.

I don't have everything figured out, and I don't think I need to.

What I understand now is that a fulfilling career can take several forms over a lifetime. The skills, experiences and lessons we accumulate continue to matter, even when our circumstances or ambitions change.

And perhaps that's what I most wish I'd understood in 2023: you can be proud of what you've built, grateful for where you are and still be figuring out what comes next.