Proper Food. Honest Scores. Period.

I grew up in Notting Hill with North African parents in one of the most multicultural neighborhoods in London. Reggae and Caribbean flavors on one corner. Italian and Asian influences on another. Weekly very proper Sunday roasts at home, delivered with full British flair.

Food was never just food. It was memory, movement, and identity.

My father spent years as a food and beverage manager for a major hotel group. My mother was a lunch lady. Some of my earliest memories are standing on a stool in our kitchen, watching my mum chop and peel. That is where the love started.

I have loved cooking ever since. Spend enough time with me and I will feed you. Not in a live laugh love kind of way, but in a let me show you I care by spending six hours cooking so you leave full kind of way.

In our house, my mum always cooked extra. Just in case someone stopped by. More often than not, that meant me knocking on a neighbor’s door trying to give food away. That instinct never left. To this day, I still cook a little extra. Just in case.

I traveled the world in search of the perfect bite and kept noticing the same pattern. Some of the most meaningful food comes from people carrying flavors with them. Recipes shaped by where they came from and refined by where they landed. Just like my parents.

Eleven years ago, I moved to California and discovered an entirely new culinary world. One built on immigration, reinvention, and cultures meeting on the same plate. Fork & Score exists to celebrate that intersection. The mom and pop spots. The small kitchens. The chefs with stories worth hearing alongside the food.

Integrity matters to me. Every review is independent. 

Nothing is sponsored. Nothing is swayed. 

I walk in as a regular customer and judge what shows up in front of me.

I fork and score. It is that simple