This marks the fifth iteration of Well Worn, our ongoing series featuring individuals whose work, lifestyle, and creative philosophy embody the enduring quality and utilitarian spirit we value at Save Khaki United and Boyville.
For this edition, pastry chef, author, and community builder Natasha Pickowicz invited us into her world to discuss the grounding nature of daily kitchen rituals, flavor as a form of personal storytelling, and the quiet discipline of repetition. In an industry often fixated on speed and rigid perfection, Natasha’s practice stands as a testament to presence, patience, and honoring the time it takes to hone a craft. We sat down with her to explore how an unpretentious approach to food, gathering, and the clothes on her back serves as a framework for a life fully lived.
Walk us through a typical day in the kitchen. What does the rhythm of your practice actually look like, from the first thing you do when you walk in to the last thing before you leave?
I haven’t worked in a conventional restaurant kitchen since 2020, so these days, no two days are alike. I feel like I am still working towards finding a personal rhythm that reflects my itinerant freelance life!
I have been enjoying an incredibly leisurely summer, and most evenings I like to have friends over to join me for dinner and relax in my garden. Most days, I’ll go to the Union Square greenmarket, often without a meal plan in mind at all. I just buy what looks delicious and usually the menu springs from there. I can’t start cooking until the kitchen is tidy, because my apartment is so small it gets cluttered and messy very easily. So I’ll clean up my fridge, the counters, the sink, the floors. I like to give myself a blank slate before I begin.
Usually I have multiple projects going on at the same time. It’s a skill, being able to multitask in the kitchen. The first thing I do is put a big pot of water on to boil—things always need boiling, potatoes or beans or beets. Then I start scrubbing the produce clean and just start methodically cooking through things. For example, I’ll be rolling out pastry while fruit is macerating and jam is bubbling, and butter is tempering. It is a beautiful and sometimes chaotic dance!
Cleaning bookends my cooking practice (I also clean as I go, always!). I love that satisfying feeling of wiping down counters, sweeping and vacuuming, and taking out the trash when I’m finished. Then, I usually retreat to my garden for a coffee and some quiet time.
You grew up with strong Chinese and Californian influences, and that shows up throughout your recipes. How do you think about flavor as a way of telling a story about origins?
Ingredients are a powerful tool for telling unique stories about our identity. For example, I grew up dousing my dumplings in black vinegar and soy sauce, and in my practice as a pastry chef I’m always trying to weave unexpected savory moments into sweet desserts. So I’ll mount a caramel sauce with soy sauce instead of salt, which serves to both season the sauce as well as adding an additional fermented, nutty, butterscotch-y element and exposing diners to a foundational ingredient from my childhood. Instead of drizzling balsamic vinegar on a panna cotta, I might try it with a rich, thick black vinegar from Taiwan. I want people to make my recipes and be able to clearly tell that it came from me — that’s always the highest compliment in my opinion.
Is there a ritual or habit you return to before you start working on a recipe, something that gets you into the right headspace for the work?
For me, it’s fully engaging with other people’s work, and not even texts that are necessarily cookbooks or food-related. It’s reading novels or poetry, looking at art, watching film. It’s also being outside, in nature, surrounded by plants and in fresh air. Those are always inspiration-starters for me. They make me eager to make things! It’s very energizing, the physical feeling of pre-springing into action. Sometimes recipe ideas arrive from spontaneous gatherings or circumstances; I’ll have people over and make an impromptu meal, and it’s a hit. Then I’ll revisit the dish later, in a more methodical way, and try to shape it into a real recipe that works for everyone.
Pastry is often thought of as precise, even rigid. What (if anything) has it taught you about discipline, and where do you allow yourself to break the rules?
I think it’s important to understand how baking works, and to make many other people’s recipes over and over again, before attempting to break any rules or start from zero. Consistency and repetition are really the only ways to achieve fluency and competence in a craft. There is no shortcut. There is no hack. It is honestly just putting in the time. But I reframed my relationship to repetition as an action to savor and honor and respect. If that repetition feels boring, then you’re not being present enough in that moment and finding new ways of meaning. I always try to share that mindset when I’m training a new cook. Your mentality towards work is what builds the actual physical skill. It’s all about attitude. Unfortunately, with how impatient people are these days, everyone wants to be amazing at something difficult without working at it in a meaningful way.
My relationship with discipline when I was starting out in kitchens was very disordered. I equated working too much as a kind of moral victory. I think I have a more nuanced attitude towards discipline now—the breaks and the rest, those key fallow periods, are just as important for creating meaningful work.
Everyone Hot Pot is ultimately a recipe book, but it’s also a formula for gathering lots of people around food. What is your best advice for hosting a gathering this autumn?
My best advice is to approach it as a low-stakes, informal, unpretentious gathering. Ask friends to bring their favorite ingredient, for an impromptu hot pot pot luck! Buy a pre-made soup base or thinly sliced cabbage! I’m a fan of any pre-made prep if it means that you’ll be more likely to sit around the table together. The point is to make it feel accessible and inviting. Autumn is the best time to have hot pot: the markets are still bursting with fresh produce, but there’s a bit of chill in the air. People are ready to have soup! Have fun with setting the table—hot pot is an intrinsically visual meal and your guests will take in the spread with their eyes before anything else. And I always love to wrap up a long hot pot session with cold, fresh fruit and hot herbal tea. Best feeling in the world!
You're known for sourcing ingredients from specific growers at local greenmarkets. Do you think about clothing in a similar way—where it's made, who made it, and what it's made from—or are those entirely different value systems for you?
The great thing about food and cooking is that it gives you a way to build out a value system that you can apply to everything else in your life—especially in how you spend your money. I try to extend that philosophy to everything from clothing to makeup to furniture. In general, I tend to not buy too many clothes at all. I love a uniform and will wear things into the ground and often buy multiples of pieces if I like how it looks and fits. I’m also not precious about my clothes at all—I won’t think twice if I leave the house and my shirt has stains or tears or is missing a button. I actually think it adds character. I think I get this from my restaurant background—you just learn to not be too precious about anything. Clothes are meant to be used! So I try to buy simple things that are well made and can withstand all the turmoil I put them through, haha.
Between prep at one kitchen, service at another, and pop-up production in between, do you have a working "uniform"?
Oh yes! I loved wearing the same thing in kitchens every day (usually a restaurant-issued button down white porter shirt and navy or black pants with boots), it’s a relief to not think too hard about what to wear at any given moment. You can really focus on your art that way, I think. These days, my preference are big button-downs with the sleeves rolled way up and work pants like Dickies or Lees. I like everything oversized so I don’t feel constrained in any of my movements!
In an era that often values quick shortcuts over patient mastery, Natasha’s approach is a quiet reminder that true craft is built on presence, repetition, and respect for the process. It’s an unpretentious philosophy that carries through everything she touches—from the quiet rhythm of her kitchen to the oversized, utilitarian staples she wears every day. Simple pieces, thoughtful rituals, and a commitment to living fully in the work—a spirit that sits at the very heart of Boyville. Explore her favorite Boyville staples below, designed for effortless movement, everyday wear, and a life built to be lived in.
