What I Wish I Knew Before Becoming a Private Chef

Five years ago, I walked out of my last restaurant shift, terrified and exhilarated. I was about to become a private chef.

I had no clients. No marketing plan. No idea how to price myself. Just a decade of restaurant experience and a belief that there had to be a better way to cook for a living.

I made it work. Today, I run a MICHELIN Guide selected restaurant and a thriving private chef business. I charge €100+ per person and book 15-20 events a month.

But I learned everything the hard way. Mistakes that cost me money, confidence, and time. Here's what I wish someone had told me before I started.

1. It's Lonelier Than You Think

In restaurants, you have a team. Banter during prep. Shared stress during service. Post-shift beers. Camaraderie.

As a private chef, you're solo. You plan alone. Shop alone. Cook alone. Load equipment in and out of your car alone. Clean up alone. Drive home alone.

The work isn't harder. The isolation is.

I underestimated how much I'd miss the kitchen crew energy. That feeling of moving in sync during a busy service, everyone trusting each other.

What I do now: I stay connected with other chefs. I collaborate on bigger events. I hire help for events over 15 guests. And I embrace the solitude because it's the price of freedom.

2. Clients Can Be Difficult (And That's Okay)

In restaurants, the head chef filters customer complaints. As a private chef, you're front-facing. Every request, every preference, every "can you make it less spicy but more flavorful" conversation is yours to handle.

Some clients are amazing. They trust you, appreciate your work, tip generously, and rebook immediately.

Others are... challenging. They want Wagyu beef on a chicken budget. They change the menu 48 hours before the event. They don't mention a severe nut allergy until you're setting up.

Early on, I took these situations personally. Now I see them as part of the job.

What I learned: Screen clients during the inquiry phase. Ask the right questions. Trust your gut. If someone seems difficult before you've even sent a proposal, they'll be worse during the event. Say no to red flags.

3. You're Also a Business Owner (Not Just a Cook)

Cooking is maybe 40% of private chef work.

The other 60%? Marketing. Bookkeeping. Client management. Negotiation. Supply chain. Insurance. Legal compliance. Tax planning. Systems building.

Nobody told me this. I thought I was becoming a chef with flexibility. I was actually becoming a small business owner who happens to cook.

If you love pure cooking and hate admin, this career will frustrate you. If you like solving problems and building systems, you'll thrive.

What I wish I'd done: Spent 3 months learning the business side before my first event. Read books on pricing, marketing, and client management. Built systems early instead of scrambling to create them later.

Now I spend Mondays on business, not cooking. It's the most important day of my week.

4. Equipment Is Expensive (And You Carry It Everywhere)

I spent €3,000 on equipment in my first 6 months. Portable burners, knife rolls, containers, coolers, transport crates, serving platters, linens.

And I haul it everywhere. Up apartment stairs. Through villa gardens. Onto yachts. Into clients' tiny kitchens that weren't designed for professional cooking.

My back hurts more now than it did standing in restaurants for 12 hours.

What I'd tell my past self: Invest in quality from the start. Cheap equipment breaks. Buy a proper vehicle with storage. Get a wheeled cart for transport. Factor equipment depreciation into your pricing.

5. Travel Is Part of the Job (Pro and Con)

I cook in luxury villas in Comporta. On yachts in Cascais. At the Australian Embassy. In apartments in Alfama.

Travel is part of the appeal. Every kitchen is different. Every location has a story.

But travel also means:

• Unpredictable commutes (Lisbon traffic is brutal)
• Getting lost finding villas with no street numbers
• Arriving to kitchens that are nothing like the client described
• Fuel costs that eat into profit if you don't price them in

What I do now: Charge a travel fee for events over 30km. Block travel time in my calendar. Always arrive 30 minutes early. And I keep Google Maps running even when I think I know where I'm going.

6. You Need Thick Skin (Not Everyone Will Book You)

Rejections sting when you're starting out.

Someone inquires. You spend an hour crafting a custom proposal. They ghost.

Or worse, they say "we went with someone cheaper."

In my first 6 months, I converted maybe 20% of inquiries. I took every rejection personally. Was my food not good enough? My prices too high? My proposals too long?

Five years later, I convert 40-45% of inquiries. The rest? Not my clients. And that's fine.

What I learned: You're not trying to book everyone. You're trying to book the right clients at the right price. A 30-50% conversion rate is healthy. Under 30%? Adjust your pricing or proposal process. Over 50%? You could probably charge more.

7. Imposter Syndrome Is Real (Charge Anyway)

The first time I quoted €75 per person, I felt like a fraud.

I'd been earning €15-20 per hour in restaurants. Now I was charging €75 per person for a 3-hour event?

The voice in my head said: "Who do you think you are? No one will pay that."

They did. And they tipped.

Imposter syndrome doesn't go away. I still get it sometimes when quoting €130+ per person for luxury events. But I've learned to charge what I'm worth, not what I think people will pay.

What helps: Remember, you're not charging for time. You're charging for expertise, convenience, customization, and the experience you create. A client hiring you gets a restaurant-quality meal in their home without leaving their couch. That's worth premium pricing.

8. It's Easier Than I Thought (Less Stress Than Restaurants)

I expected private chef work to be more stressful. Cooking alone. No backup. Unfamiliar kitchens.

It's not.

It's calmer. I control the pace. I choose the menu. I'm not managing a team or dealing with a head chef's ego. I'm not doing 200 covers on a Saturday night.

A typical private chef event: 8-12 guests, 4-5 courses, 3 hours start to finish. I prep at home. I cook on-site at my own rhythm. No one yelling. No chaos. Just focused work.

Restaurant kitchens felt like controlled chaos. Private chef work feels like a performance I control.

9. Income Is Variable (Feast or Famine First Year)

Private chef income doesn't look like restaurant paychecks.

Some months, I'd book €8,000 in events. Other months, €1,200. My first year was a rollercoaster.

I wasn't prepared for the variability. Bills don't stop, but bookings do (especially off-season).

What saved me: I kept a 3-month financial cushion. I built recurring income streams (meal prep, corporate retainers). And I learned to market year-round, not just when I needed bookings.

Now, five years in, my income is more predictable. I have repeat clients, seasonal patterns I can plan for, and systems that keep bookings flowing. But year one was tough financially.

10. The Freedom Is Worth It (Still True 5 Years In)

This is the part that hasn't changed: the freedom is everything.

I choose my clients. My schedule. My prices. My menu. If I want to take August off, I can. If I want to raise my rates, I do. No head chef. No owner. No corporate policy.

After 15 years of kitchen hierarchy, this autonomy is priceless.

Some weeks, I work 50 hours. Other weeks, 15. I see my family. I take holidays. I have hobbies again.

The trade-off is uncertainty and responsibility. But I'll take uncertainty over the certainty of 80-hour restaurant weeks any day.

11. I Should Have Started Sooner (My Biggest Regret)

I waited too long. I told myself I needed more experience, more credentials, more connections. I thought I had to be ready.

I wasn't. And that was fine.

My first event was messy. I undercharged. I overpromised. I forgot ingredients. But the client was happy, I got paid, and I learned more in that one event than I did in 6 months of restaurant work.

If I could go back, I'd have started 3 years earlier. Even part-time. Even just one event a month while keeping my restaurant job.

The truth: You'll never feel fully ready. Start before you're ready. One event. Learn. Adjust. Repeat.

12. It's the Best Decision I Made (No Going Back)

Despite the challenges, the loneliness, the admin, the variable income, I don't regret this career for a second.

I make more money. I have more freedom. I'm healthier. I'm happier. I own a restaurant now (on my terms), funded by private chef income.

The path wasn't linear. The learning curve was steep. But I wouldn't go back to being an employee in someone else's kitchen, working 80-hour weeks for fixed pay.

If you're considering becoming a private chef, my advice is simple: start. Don't wait until you feel ready. Don't overthink it. Do one event. Then another. Then build systems around what works.

You'll make mistakes. So did I. But you'll also build something that's yours.

What I'd Tell My Past Self

If I could send a message back to 2021 Justin, about to quit his restaurant job, I'd say:

Start sooner. You're more ready than you think.

Charge more. You're worth it, even when imposter syndrome says you're not.

Build systems early. Future you will thank you.

Learn the business side. It's as important as the cooking.

Screen clients. Not everyone is your client. Say no to red flags.

Find community. Other private chefs will shortcut your learning by years.

Embrace the freedom. The uncertainty is the price of autonomy. It's worth it.

This career isn't easy. But it's possible. And it's one of the best decisions I've made.

If you're on the fence, take the leap. You'll figure it out. We all do.