Putting It All Together

I cofounded Kisa The Veganizer to share the foods I love—rooted in family tradition and made with care. Flavor is just the start; I’m equally passionate about how the foods we choose affect our mental health and overall wellbeing. That passion comes from lived experience and a family history marked by chronic illness like diabetes and cancer.
My kitchen confidence was passed down by three generations of women—my mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother. From them I learned that food does more than fill a plate; it heals, connects, and keeps stories alive.

I grew up in my great-grandmother, Big Mama Upchurch’s kitchen, learning Black foodways under her tutelage. A contemporary of Black cookbook pioneer Edna Lewis sharing Southern roots and migration north, though her culinary genius remained mostly known only to family, church, and close friends. Her kitchen produced pillow-soft biscuits with homemade jam, perfectly roasted chicken with crisp, salted skin, fried corn with peppers and onions, chocolate-frosted yellow cake, and a German chocolate cake famous enough to be shipped to soldiers in Vietnam. Her after-church feasts—“Miss Uppie’s” Sunday dinners—were the heart of soul food, and I was blessed to be her sous-chef and dishwasher from age six.

My grandmother, Big Mama Dorothy was a force of joy—life of the party, light in every room, and the heartbeat of Jackson’s South Side. Her home was never locked; it pulsed with laughter, the hiss of coffee percolating, and the slow hum of something delicious on the stove. Dorothy’s mac and cheese still reigns as the gold standard, but it was the aromas that told the story: onions surrendering to gravy, steak sizzling in cast iron, barbecue smoke curling through summer air. I can still feel the pride of racing up the block, knowing that heavenly scent was ours. That big white house was my world, the center of love and celebration. As her grandbaby, I was her apprentice for every fish fry, barbecue, and church picnic, learning the magic behind every skillet and flour-dusted counter.

Renee, my mom, was pure hospitality—warm, fun, and fearless in the kitchen. Life took us from Jackson to California, where she turned necessity into creativity, blending family traditions with bold new flavors. Mom’s German chocolate cake rivaled her grandmother’s, and she could sell that cake, her pineapple upside down cake, and her banana split cake to the highest bidders at her job on any given Monday to make ends meet when she had to. She also embraced “The Health Message” as a Seventh-Day Adventist, experimenting with lighter, plant-forward meals. From Mexican to Filipino dishes, Mom made our kitchen a living laboratory, teaching me that food is both heritage and adventure.

By now, it’s clear I have the cooking gene (thank you, Michael Twitty). But genes need the right conditions to bloom—and mine thrived in kitchens full of magic. I was kneaded and proofed under Big Mama Upchurch’s alchemist hands, steeped in Dorothy’s saucy, sensual flair, and baked in California sunshine with a mom who turned necessity into art. From church kitchens to family tables, I learned the science and soul of food. I know what buttermilk does—and how to mimic it without butter or milk. I can make greens sing without smoked meat and desserts feel like sweet sin without harming a single animal. I can even fry a mushroom that’ll make you swear it’s a chicken wing. Thanks to three generations of fearless women, I float through my kitchen with confidence and joy—and I miss them every day.

Keeping food dreams alive

Losing my mom to brain cancer before her 50th birthday and watching both grandmothers suffer through diabetes and dementia shattered me. These women shaped my world, yet their lives were cut short or diminished by lifestyle diseases. Food was our joy, our comfort, our celebration—but it was also our undoing. For years, I carried their stories and my own health struggles: pre-diabetes, weight gain, migraines that locked me in dark rooms for days. When menopause hit, I knew I was heading down the same path. Returning to veganism became my lifeline—a way to reclaim my health, honor their legacy, and break the cycle. Eliminating meat and animal products gave me relief and hope, and now it fuels my mission to help others do the same.

I went vegan to break the cycle of lifestyle diseases that claimed my mom and grandmothers—and to reclaim health without sacrificing joy. Today, I help chefs and home cooks do the same: creating plant-forward menus that meet health goals, sustainability standards, and flavor expectations. My approach blends food science, culinary creativity, and wellness strategies so every dish delivers bold taste, satisfying texture, and life-giving nutrition. Because eating well should feel like living well.

At the Kujichagulia Kitchen in Detroit with Jermond Booze, Culinary Director of Detroit Food Academy