Welcome to Chef Craft Recipes!

My name is Lina Prescott, and I’ve been in love with kitchens longer than I’ve known how to drive. I’m 38 now, running a small, fiercely focused kitchen in Charleston, South Carolina, and every day still feels like a challenge worth showing up for. My roots are mixed—my mom’s Southern through and through, and my dad’s Lebanese—so food at our table was always a beautiful contradiction: cornbread beside tabbouleh, fried catfish next to lamb kofta. That early fusion shaped me more than I realized at the time.

I didn’t come through the traditional fine dining pipeline. No, I earned my stripes working brunch shifts in diners and catering gigs that tested every ounce of patience I had. But I was relentless. I saved enough tips to attend Johnson & Wales, then spent a few crucial years staging across Chicago and New Orleans, seeking out chefs who would push me, challenge me, and—when necessary—break me down. Because if you can’t take the pressure, you can’t earn the respect. Simple as that.

I specialize in open-fire cooking and seasonal Southern cuisine with subtle nods to my Middle Eastern heritage. My food tells stories—sometimes loud, sometimes whispered—but always intentional. I’ve spent months fine-tuning a single vinaigrette and years getting my sourdough crust just right. I believe in process, in structure, and in that near-religious moment when a line cook finally “gets it” and starts moving with purpose.

I’ve failed more times than I’ve succeeded—like the time a whole lamb order came in spoiled on a Saturday morning, or when a sous chef walked out mid-service, leaving me to plate twelve mains alone. But here’s the thing: those moments make you or break you. And I chose a long time ago to be the kind of chef who rises.

To the younger women in the field—yes, the kitchen is tough. Yes, you will be underestimated. And yes, you will outwork, outcook, and outlast. Keep your knives sharp and your head sharper.

This profession isn’t just about food. It’s about leading with integrity, training with empathy, and showing up every single day with fire in your chest and grace in your stride. And if you’re ever in Charleston, come by. We’ll swap stories over black garlic grits and charred okra, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll taste a bit of both my worlds on the plate.