my story

How are you feeling? Right this second, in this very moment. How about the last week? This is the very first question I often ask my clients. You're probably feeling awesome from that spin class you just crushed or the green juice you had this week. But we're all human. It's inevitable at times to feel off, even way off. Truth be told, I wasn't always living a glossy Clean Food Dirty City life. For years, I felt the opposite of great — nearly bedridden with migraines, my body screaming out that something was not right. No number of yoga classes or green juices could keep me from feeling like my head was about to fall off. Nothing changed until I started paying attention to what was at the end of my fork and how it made me feel.

I grew up a food lover. My earliest memories are of planting tomatoes in my garden, picking raspberries at Homestead Farm in Maryland, and plating desserts with my cousin in the back of my uncle's restaurant. My love for trying new foods began at a young age, starting with the smoked salmon, crème fraîche, and caviar amuse-bouche my great-grandmother would always have at holiday gatherings. She was the type of lady who kept truffles in her freezer — I didn't even know what a truffle was — but she had this elegance that mesmerized my eight-year-old self. Little did I know I would be following in her footsteps, first at the same alma mater, and later in the kitchen — only things look a little different and a lot less fancy at my house. One thing we do have in common: I always have truffles in my freezer ... the raw nut, date, and cacao kind!

My story begins with a bump in the road along the way. My life changed when my migraines began. It started with a blinding headache after field hockey practice during sophomore year in high school. The headaches and migraines kept happening, a couple of times a month. I started seeing a neurologist and cycled between doses of strong medicines — some Band-Aiding the migraine symptoms, but most giving me side effects ranging from digestive issues to short-term memory loss.

Fast forward to college. Horrible side effects drove me to swear off all meds, but headaches (and now vertigo) persisted, often coming on stronger than ever. I'd be sitting in class, and out of nowhere it would hit me. The room would start spinning. I prayed the professor would not call on me during one of these spells as I white-knuckled the arms of my chair. I'd retreat to my room every day after lunch, turn off all the lights, and stay in there until my headache subsided the next morning (and then returned by midday). It's a miracle I was able to accomplish anything during that year.

I was sick of feeling sick and sick of everyone asking me why I was always sick. Dozens of desperate web searches later, a little bell went off in my head. I suddenly heard the words of an osteopath I had seen the year prior loud and clear: I think it could be something you are eating. We didn't fully explore that route when my blood work all came back clear, no allergies. Could this be?

With nothing to lose, and enough Google evidence to back up my latest experiment, I jumped on the gluten-free train (before there was a bandwagon) the very next day, and the changes were nothing short of a miracle.

Forty-eight hours later, a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was headache-free. The cloud above my head disappeared, and for the first time since I could remember, I survived a day without that perpetual headache. It was the first moment I made the connection between what I put in my body and how it makes me feel.

While my spirits were lifted in my newfound freedom, I faced a fresh challenge: how to combine my love for delicious food with my need to properly nourish my body. More practically, would it even be possible to avoid gluten on a college campus? My dining hall graciously supplied me with gluten-free pasta and bread, and brown rice wraps (and even a dedicated toaster). And the neighborhood café gladly used the gluten-free bread that I brought in for breakfast sandwiches.

the move

Things were going swimmingly, but a serious dose of reality came postcollege when I arrived in New York City — a place notorious for its energy, excitement, and cramped living spaces — and I was tasked with keeping myself nourished and grounded amid the rush. My early days in the city were spent exploring my West Village neighborhood, acclimating to my first real job, enjoying happy hours with friends,...