While promoting her book "Accidentally on Purpose", Top Chef host Kristen Kish joined food writer Alyse Whitney at Los Angeles' Now Serving bookstore for a candid conversation on identity, adoption, and self-discovery
“Kristen Kish, chef/partner of Arlo Grey in Austin, Texas; host of Bravo’s Emmy Award-winning Top Chef, and
host/producer of Restaurants at the End of the World in conversation for Accidentally on Purpose. Moderated by Alyse Whitney, food writer and author of Big Dip Energy. Book signing and meet and greet to follow.”
When I read the email, I immediately stopped what I was doing, hit “purchase” and immediately sat back in awe.
I was now officially days away from being in the presence of one of my favorite people on Earth. A woman that inspires me with her effortless cool, emotional honesty and insight: Kristen Kish.
It’s an understatement to say that I look forward each week to the most recent episode of Top Chef. A few months prior, I’d been front and center at Nini Nguyen’s Culinary Demo to promote her cookbook “Dac Biet” at Ojai Food + Wine Festival at Ojai Valley Inn. I felt the draw of the Top Chef aura drawing me in.
But the Kristen Kish? Absolutely hell yes.
I felt inexplicably drawn to her. There was something, and I didn’t know what – that I needed to be present for to hear.
I was ready for that, and more.
Now Serving: A Cookbook Store
After navigating the usual chaos of LA traffic, I scored an improbably perfect parking spot in Chinatown and made my way to Now Serving, a cookbook store I’d somehow never been to. As I entered, I was visually overwhelmed in the best way. Gorgeous shelves, thoughtful curation, and an aura of reverence for food. This was a sanctuary of culinary artistry.
I noticed some that I had in my own collection – namely a signed copy of Noma 2.0. I noticed others that I just loved that they existed.
But, I wasn’t there to buy a cookbook. I was there to see her.
I was there for Kristen. And there she was, seated casually in front of us. Calm, poised, radiant.
Kristen Kish in Conversation with Alyse Whitney
The conversation with food writer Alyse Whitney, author of Big Dip Energy, went far beyond food. Kristen opened up about identity, community, adoption, queerness, and self-acceptance. With vulnerability and grace, she spoke about the journey to becoming fully herself.
She made one thing clear: her memoir isn’t just a collection of culinary memories. It’s about owning your story, setting boundaries, and the radical act of claiming your identity on your own terms.
Immediate take aways included the bold statement of sharing your mission statement with the world. In this, Kristen stressed that the best way to find connection is to share a little bit about yourself. In this, we can build connection through vulnerability and trust. Something I think is truly needed now.
There was one moment when they discussed how being adopted changes your identity. With that, how does your identity change through your food? Since both Kristen and Alyse were Korean Americans adopted by white parents, this really made me momentarily pause and reflect. In Alyse’s case, she started the Adoptee Potluck Club, which is actually how Alyse and Kirsten first met and connected. This event centered around Korean Americans who were adopted and reflected their identity through different cuisines for the event. I found this fascinating.
How do I, as a black American female, find my identity? Is it through the foods I grew up eating, based on my parent’s deep Southern heritage? Is it through my reflections of friends as I was growing up? Past lovers and events? If I could name stages of my life, what food would they be?
Balancing Act: Public Consumption vs A Very Private Life
Another compelling thread in the evening’s conversation was Kristen’s thoughtful exploration of what it means to live a life divided between public visibility and private sanctuary – particularly in the context of her relationship with her wife, Bianca. In a world that often demands access to every corner of a public figure’s life, Kristen spoke candidly about the intentional boundaries she maintains to protect her most intimate spaces.
She reflected on how her role as a television host, chef, and public personality inherently involves a kind of performance – a curated offering of certain aspects of herself for audience consumption. Yet, behind the scenes, there exists a quieter, deeply personal world where she is not a persona, not “Kristen Kish the brand,” but simply Kristen: a partner, a wife, a woman seeking peace and joy in her everyday life.
This duality – public figure and private self – is one that many can relate to, especially in our hyperconnected age. Kristen acknowledged that while sharing her story is part of her mission, it doesn’t require giving away all of herself. Instead, it’s about choosing what to share, and when, with intention. It’s a nuanced dance of vulnerability and boundary, visibility and retreat.
Writing a Memoir: Healing, Growth and Clarity
Kristen described the memoir-writing process as deeply personal and therapeutic. She worked with her co-writer in three-hour sessions, three to four times a month, gradually peeling back layers of her story. One quote that struck me deeply was:
“My story is uniquely mine. But my journey is universal.”
As she recounted moments of rambling or veering off-topic, she shared that her co-writer gently reminded her: “The story happens when you aren’t thinking.” That insight stayed with me. It reminded me how often we curate ourselves – how much of what we present is performance, not truth.
Kristen reflected on how, for much of her life, she’d shaped herself to please others. But writing the memoir became a way to reclaim her narrative and separate her self-worth from her public persona or food career.
That resonated deeply with my own journey – from living a performative life to embracing one rooted in self-directed pleasure and authenticity. Like Kristen, I’m learning that we are not worthy based on what we produce. We are worthy simply for being.
Cooking as a Symphony
In a moment of reflection, Kristen shared that if she hadn’t become a chef, she would have joined a symphony orchestra. That single thought revealed everything about how she approaches cooking – not as mere profession, but as expressive, living art.
She offered one of the night’s most striking metaphors: cooking, to her, is like conducting a symphony. The grill is the percussion and bass as it sets the rhythm. The sauté station is the brass section – bold and expressive. Pastas provide the melody, while vegetables keep time. Sauces and garnishes create harmony. And the chef? The conductor, orchestrating it all.
Finding Time for Personal Happiness
Kristen also described feeling most at home in her kitchen at Arlo Grey. It’s her creative sanctuary, a place where she doesn’t have to shrink or perform – just create. She’ll greet diners if asked. But in the kitchen – her kitchen – her light shines fully.
Outside the kitchen, her version of joy is quiet and unassuming. She loves stillness – curtains drawn in a hotel room, and total silence to just be.
She also recalled a glamping trip with her wife in upstate New York. From the details, I assumed it was Auto Camp in Catskills, New York. There, biking through the woods post-pandemic, she felt something rare: complete joy.
No performance, no pressure – just presence. Just being. And this made her deeply, radiantly happy.
I loved it.
The Playful Pleasure of Food
At one point, the question came up with “what dish would represent you, right now?” She paused before enthusiastically stating: Arby’s Chicken Fingers with Curly Fries and a side of ranch sauce.
Why? Comfort, that reminds her of Midwestern roots. Real chicken, curly fries done with excellences. When Kristen emphasized curly, not straight – referencing her queer sexuality – the room laughed. And when she mentioned how much she loved horsey sauce, Alyse mentioned that Kristen was the “perfect viscosity of horsey sauce.” I found that deeply amusing.
Alyse also posed a rather interesting question: Fuck, Marry or Kill four dishes.
There was a salad that Kristen immediately said “kill”. For her Mom’s casserole stew, she said that she would love and give a warm hug. Her Sad Spaghetti dish? Marry. Sunkist Fruit Gems? Fuck.
Accidentally – on Purpose
Kristen’s story reminded me that identity isn’t something we have to narrow down or edit to fit into neat boxes. We are allowed to be all of it – complex, multifaceted, unapologetic. We don’t have to shrink to fit someone else’s comfort, to appease fragile egos, or to stay in the “crab bucket.” Instead, we can take up space, fully. We can use our gifts to spark creativity, to lead, and to show others what’s possible when we live authentically. Representation isn’t just important. It’s transformative.
Kristen spoke of a kind of freedom that resonated deeply: the freedom to be yourself without obligation. To live for your own joy, your own peace, your own present moment. Especially in the presence of someone who loves you as you are.
And in that freedom, we become mirrors. By living as our full selves, we give others permission to do the same. Yes, we may belong to many communities, wear many labels—but we don’t need to define ourselves solely by them. Instead, each of our lives becomes a single, distinct note in a larger human symphony. Different tones, shared rhythm.
She also encouraged us to pay attention to the small nudges – the people and moments that quietly shape us, that open doors of possibility. Because in those moments, we find the magic that builds a meaningful life.
Her final message was clear: embrace your path. Your uniqueness is not a limitation. It’s the very thing that makes your story matter.
Questions and Answers
As Alyse transitioned from her conversation to public questions, Kristen led us in a sound movement breath work technique. As we all drew a collective breath in and then let it go in a collective ahhhhh, I felt a palpable shift in the room.
Someone asked if Kristen cooks for fun or self discovery. “For discovery and curiosity” she answered.
Another person did the usual LA self masterbatory thing and asked a question that was really a performative act to talk about themselves and their pedigree.
They called Kristen an actress, to which she immediately said that she wasn’t – she was a performer. As a host and public persona, she performs a part of her personality for public consumption. But she is not putting on a show and becoming someone else. I thought this was powerful. Especially, because as a society, we really do not know celebrities as much as we assume and think we know them. And I admired Kirsten for her quick wit in correcting the incorrect assumption. And, how she answered and steered the question.
Another person asked about her favorite tattoos on her body. She spoke of three:
Season One of Top Chef, Kristen marked with a gummy bear tattoo because she introduced eating gummy bears at the judging table.
For the second season, she got a tattoo of a canoe to represent Canada. She then shared a lovely store of the hosts canoeing on a lake.
Her third favorite tattoo was a star, in honor of her first Emmy nomination.
From Contestant to Host: The Power of Possibility
The final question of the evening came with powerful emotional weight. An audience member asked how she felt when the new batch of chef’s entered the Top Chef kitchen for the first time, each season.
After a quick pause for reflection, Kristen answered in a way that brought tears to my eyes. She said that she saw the first moment of the chefs entering the kitchen as a whole new beginning of possibilities for them.
Then, she mused – “If I can compete in season 10 and then years later host the show – anything is possible.”
Anything
is
possible.
Book Signing & Afterword
We all filed outside as the room was rearranged for signing. As we trickled back in, I tried to think of something to say to Kristen, when it was my time to get my book signed.
Still in awe of her, I was shockingly quite shy when it was my turn to get my book signed.
One of the owners of Now Serving took my photo with Kristen and I just remember standing there, dumbfounded that I was physically in her aura and that she talked to me.
After she signed my book and the photo was over, I felt tears come to my eyes. All I could do is look at her and say “Thank you”.
But – telepathically – I said more:
Thank you for being yourself.
Thank you for being vulnerable.
Thank you for being authentic.
Thank you for being emotional and allowing your voice to crack when you feel it happen.
Thank you for being yourself.
Thank you for showing me what’s possible.
Representation matters.
Now Serving Bookstore
727 N Broadway #133Los Angeles, California 90012
