SingleThread’s hidden engine: belief in potential
We drove to SingleThread for a meal—and left thinking about mentorship, burnout, and what fine dining forgets.
Let’s start with this: Not every dream meal changes your life. And that’s okay.
Last December, I finally made the pilgrimage to SingleThread, the kind of place food lovers whisper about like holy ground.
Three Michelin stars. An 11-course tasting menu.
Themed “Late Autumn in Sonoma” featuring dishes like Hokkaido scallops. Masami Wagyu. Duck Liver Parfait. Sonoma mushrooms with green yuzu.
Each course felt like a composed poem.
My dear friend Tammy and I drove into Healdsburg with anticipation that bordered on sacred. But tbh, I wasn’t just showing up for a meal.
I had just flown back to San Francisco to spend the week with my coworkers—a team I genuinely respect and love working with—but I was also quietly carrying the weight of a decision I hadn’t yet said out loud: I was thinking of leaving my job.
Not because I was burnt out. But because I felt something pulling me in a different direction. I wanted to chase my passion for food and hospitality. I wanted to build something that felt more mine.
So I went to SingleThread hoping it might jolt something awake in me.
I expected magic. I got mastery.
Every detail was thoughtful. Every plate was composed. The staff knew exactly who we were when we arrived, greeted us like old friends, and truly tried to make us feel seen.
But after a few courses, I found myself searching for something less perfect.
More human. More alive.
It was like watching a ballet after you’ve learned the choreography. You can’t unsee the repetition.
Don’t get me wrong—it was a beautiful night. But it felt like a place optimized for excellence, not wonder.
And that’s where the disconnect hit me.
The more thoughtful the service became, the more I started noticing the script. The way one dish floated into the next like clockwork. The precision. The pacing. The kind of polish you only get after thousands of reps.
And somewhere between the fourth and fifth course, I realized:
this place is a machine.
A very loving, intentional, technically flawless machine.
But still—a machine.
But what I learned afterward is what made me sit up.
Kyle and Katina Connaughton, the husband-and-wife team behind SingleThread, didn’t just open a restaurant.
They built a whole ecosystem.
A farm that feeds the menu. An inn that brings people into their world.
A shared philosophy rooted in the Japanese idea of omotenashi—radical hospitality.
It’s all one system, connected and intentional.
Kyle isn’t just a chef. He helped design the culinary science program at the CIA (Culinary Institute of America).
Katina isn’t just the farm director—she studied both English and Japanese agricultural techniques and runs a sustainable 24-acre farm in Sonoma.
But here’s what really moved me:
SingleThread isn’t just turning out dishes.
It’s turning out people. Chefs, servers, and farmers who’ve gone on to run their own kitchens and regenerative farms, who carry pieces of this philosophy into new corners of the food world.
It made me reflect on my own day-to-day—the teams we grow, the culture we model, the way we give people space to find their voice.
We don’t always need bigger visions.
Sometimes we just need better ecosystems.
🧠 In a moment when so many restaurants are imploding under pressure or clinging to relevance through Instagram gimmicks—SingleThread is quietly doing something rarer: mentoring the next generation.
And that’s what stuck with me the most.
Not the smoked chestnuts. Not the wagyu short rib (though, wow).
But the idea that this place has become a kind of culinary dojo.
That for every guest who makes the pilgrimage, there are ten more people in the back, being trained, seen, and empowered.
That lit something up in me.
It made me think about the conversations we avoid when we're too busy achieving. The pressure we put on ourselves to be everything for everyone.
And how maybe—just maybe—we're allowed to share that load.
My friend Tammy, who sat across from me, picked up on my energy without me needing to say much. We talked about burnout, ambition, and what happens when you hit the summit of something and realize you’re ready for a new path.
That conversation—that table—is what stayed with me.
This was the part I didn’t expect to connect with so deeply.
But maybe that’s the point.
Because your hungry bff isn’t just about where to eat.
It’s about discovering what stays with you after the check drops.
What made you feel something—and what didn’t.
We’ve been told white tablecloths, tasting menus, and silence mean you’re somewhere important. But how often do we leave feeling... just okay?
Full, but unchanged.
Maybe it’s not the food.
Maybe it’s what we’ve been taught to value.
Casual fine dining isn’t a trend—it’s a response.
To the performance. The polish. The pressure to be perfect.
People want presence. Warmth. Something that feels real.
So what are we actually hungry for?
And what do the most revered restaurants owe to the next generation?
Because excellence isn’t just about what you build.
It’s about who you build up.
Hospitality isn’t just service.
It’s mentorship.
🧠 SingleThread reminded me that true hospitality isn’t just about what happens on the plate—it’s about the belief in someone’s potential, often before they see it themselves, and helping them see it too.
And that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.
I went for a once-in-a-lifetime meal.
I left more interested in what happens when someone finishes their last shift, takes what they learned, and builds something of their own.
SingleThread’s alumni are out there doing big things—with very little fanfare.
Akeel Shah, their Director of Hospitality turned GM. He started over seven years ago and worked his way up. Today, he oversees operations for 120+ team members—and helps steward the next generation of hospitality talent.
Others have gone on to open their own places that carry the same spirit forward:
Molti Amici (now permanently closed, iykyk), by Sean McGaughey, Melissa Yanc, and Jonny Barr, earned a Michelin Bib faster than you can say “wood-fired pizza”. Sean and Melissa’s other ventures—Quail & Condor and Troubadour—have been celebrated by The New York Times and the Michelin Guide.
Evan and Jade Hufford opened Maison, a moody wine bar pouring until 2am that the SF Chronicle called one of the town’s best.
And up in the Pacific Northwest, Grant Rico’s time at Seabird landed on Esquire’s Best New Restaurants list with uni French toast and oceanic swagger. Now, he’s onto his next venture with recently opened The Greenwood American Bistro.
🧠 SingleThread isn’t just plating food. It’s planting futures.
What SingleThread taught me about mentorship and hospitality
1. Trust isn’t a weakness or luxury—it’s a system for scale.
When teams feel trusted, they show up like owners. You don’t need to micromanage when belief is built into the system. That’s how you scale culture without losing soul.
2. Control delivers consistency. Belief builds initiative.
Anyone can teach technique. But when people feel invested, they stop following scripts and start creating standards.
3. Momentum matters more than polish.
The best hires aren’t always the most impressive on paper. They’re the ones who are still accelerating—and just need the right environment to take off.
4. Mentorship works best when it’s invisible.
You don’t need a program when growth is embedded in the way people work, give feedback, and lead by example. The best systems don’t advertise development—they produce it.
5. Legacy isn’t built on stars—it’s built on people.
A Michelin star might open doors. But recognizing someone's potential can redefine how they view themselves and their future, enduring well beyond fleeting accolades.
Was SingleThread overhyped? Maybe.
Was it worth it? Absolutely.
Not for the caviar or precision, but because it reminded me what genuine excellence looks like behind the scenes.
That’s the kind of table I want to sit at.
If you’re building something, reinventing yourself, or looking for your second course—I'll be here next week with something real, something useful, and something you can carry with you.
Till the next bite, xo.
your hungry bff,
hungry helen
So well stated. I especially liked the idea of developing talent by focusing on building the culture as a foundation and then allowing the creativity to flow.
So interesting!