My name is Sam Hartley, and I’m a 36-year-old chef born and raised just outside of Charleston, South Carolina. My story with food didn’t begin in a fancy kitchen—it started in my grandmother’s garden, picking okra and tomatoes in the sticky summer heat. She taught me that flavor starts long before the knife hits the cutting board, and that the patience to coax depth out of ingredients is what separates a meal from a memory.

I’ve spent nearly two decades in this industry, and it’s never just been about cooking for me. It’s about precision, integrity, and the relentless pursuit of mastery. I trained at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, and like most of us, I started out as a line cook—sweating under pressure, learning to move fast, think faster, and clean as I go. I’ve worked kitchens from New York to Napa, staged in Paris for a blistering three months, and led two restaurant openings—one of which earned a James Beard nomination for Best New Restaurant in the Southeast.

But I’ll tell you this—I’ve burned more than my fair share of reductions, over-seasoned sauces when my mind drifted, and even dropped an entire tray of panna cotta on a Friday night service (we plated whipped cream and acted like it was intentional). The setbacks teach you discipline. Humility. And maybe most importantly, how to build a team that trusts you and can laugh with you when the walk-in’s compressor fails mid-July.

Now, I run a contemporary Southern kitchen that pushes boundaries while honoring roots. I believe every chef—no matter their station—should know the science, the craft, and the emotion behind what they’re doing. Cooking is technique, yes, but it’s also storytelling. And the way we train, collaborate, and respect ingredients says everything about the legacy we leave behind the pass.

When I’m not in the kitchen, I’m usually breaking down fish on the dock or fermenting something weird in the garage. I mentor younger chefs because someone once gave me that same time and space when I didn’t yet know what I was doing—and I believe in passing that forward. If we’re not lifting each other up, we’re holding the whole industry back.

To the chefs reading this: stay sharp, stay curious, and never underestimate the power of restraint. It’s easy to add more. It’s harder—and more honest—to know when something’s enough.

If you ever need a hand or have a question, don’t hesitate to reach out via the Contact page. I’m always happy to help!