My name is Mason Delaney, and I was born 28 years ago in Asheville, North Carolina, where the scent of woodsmoke and wild herbs practically clings to the hills. My earliest memories are filled with the sizzle of cornbread in cast iron, the sweet tang of homemade pickles, and my grandmother humming gospel tunes as she stirred pots on the old enamel stove. I didn’t realize it then, but those quiet kitchen moments were the foundation of a lifelong devotion to cooking.
After a short-lived stint studying engineering—something I quickly realized wasn’t for me—I took a leap and enrolled in culinary school in Charleston. It was there, elbow-deep in sauces and surrounded by the chaos of a professional kitchen, that I fell madly in love with the craft. I’ve since worked my way through fine dining restaurants in New Orleans, barbecue joints in Austin, and even spent a year on a fishing boat in Alaska, learning how to break down halibut and respect every ounce of an ingredient.
Cooking, to me, is storytelling. Whether I’m layering flavors for a twelve-course tasting menu or teaching my neighbors how to make flaky biscuits from scratch, I approach food with reverence and playfulness. I love tradition, but I’m not afraid to challenge it—fermenting Southern greens, fire-roasting peaches for hot sauce, or pairing hush puppies with miso butter. There’s magic in the unexpected.
These days, I split my time between running a small restaurant tucked into the Blue Ridge Mountains and mentoring younger chefs who remind me so much of myself at twenty—full of nerves and wide-eyed wonder. When I’m not in the kitchen, you’ll find me foraging, reading old church cookbooks, or arguing about the best way to cure country ham.
I’ve had my fair share of kitchen mishaps—once lit a towel on fire during service, another time confused salt for sugar in a peach cobbler—but each mistake sharpened my instincts and deepened my respect for the process. I believe good cooking doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from attention, love, and a willingness to learn.
To anyone out there trying to find their voice through food—whether you’re cooking for your family or commanding a brigade—I see you. And I’m honored to share my journey, lessons, and the occasional stubborn biscuit recipe with you.
