My name’s Noah Morgan, and I live tucked away in the rolling foothills just outside Asheville, North Carolina, where the air smells like pine and the mountains hum with quiet wisdom. I’m 55 now, but my journey in the kitchen started long before I ever owned a chef’s knife. I grew up in a small Midwestern town, where my grandmother ruled the kitchen with wooden spoons and instinct. She never followed a recipe, yet every meal she made carried the warmth of home. That’s where I learned that food isn’t just nourishment—it’s storytelling.

I didn’t take the straight road to the kitchen. In my younger years, I wore a few different hats—worked in carpentry, played a little music, and drifted through a few cities trying to figure out where I belonged. But no matter where I went, I always found myself back by the stove. Eventually, I followed that calling all the way to culinary school, where I learned the art and science of cooking: precision, patience, and pride in every plate.

Over the decades, I’ve cooked in bustling city kitchens, small-town diners, and mountain retreats. I’ve led brigades through chaotic dinner rushes, burned my fair share of sauces, and learned that perfection is overrated—what matters most is passion and presence. Today, I run a teaching kitchen and supper club from my restored barn, where people of all skill levels come to rediscover the joy of food—no ego, no pretense, just honest cooking and good conversation.

My philosophy is simple:
Respect the ingredient. Trust your senses. Never stop learning.
Food connects us—it reminds us of where we’ve been and gives us the courage to explore what’s next. Whether I’m teaching someone how to roast their first chicken or refining a sauce for the hundredth time, I believe every meal has a story, and every cook has a voice.

So, pull up a chair.
There’s always a place at my table—and always something new simmering on the stove.