Hi, I'm Audrey

I’m not known for my cooking. So, how did I become a ghostwriter for food bloggers?

 Growing up in Toronto, I was surrounded by – and also immersed in – many different cultures. My father was born in Mauritius, a tiny island off the east coast of South Africa, which has a heavy French/Chinese/Indian influence. I was introduced to rice and lentils, curries, ratatouille, and chutneys early on, and my father owned and operated a restaurant called the Blue Bay Café. It was the first, and possibly only, Mauritian restaurant in Toronto. 

My maternal grandmother, born in Canada, is of Italian descent and was one of THE BEST cooks around.

I also grew up surrounded by Jamaican family and friends and fell in love with all kinds of delicious Jamaican dishes.  

Being raised by parents who loved to travel meant I was fortunate enough to have been exposed to international foods very early on. When eating out locally, we would always try something new: Cuban, Creole, Korean, Syrian, Japanese, Indian, Caribbean, and more as far back as I can remember.  

I LOVE to eat. Obviously. But more than that, I love having a broad range of experiences to draw from including rich flavours, aromas, and textures. I also LOVE to write. Describing a mouthwatering dish in a way that connects with my clients’ audiences, and honours the heart and soul that they put into their recipes brings me joy.  

So, how did these two simple ingredients, become a recipe for success? (Corny, I know).

My aunt Rosemary is the owner and blogger at An Italian in My Kitchen. She introduced me to the world of food blogging in a way I had never known outside of Googling “quick and easy weeknight dinners my kids won’t argue about.” It opened the door for me to discover what I love: building a successful business writing about recipes and helping food bloggers grow theirs.  

Plus, having first-hand access to incredible Instant Pot recipes that I can throw together in between mommy-ing and working doesn’t hurt either!


The one with all the people in it.


Cheesy Netflix thrillers, of the made-for-tv calabre.  


A dirty martini with extra olives!


Do other people’s pets count? 


Anything I haven’t made myself. 


I failed gym class, so…