Start a private chef business
How to start a private chef business: the complete guide
Most chefs who go private don't fail at the cooking — they fail at the business side. The quoting, the deposits, the record-keeping, the insurance nobody warned them about. This is the guide I wish someone had handed me when I started cooking dinners in people's homes.
Here is how to set up, price, and get booked as a private chef — without the business side eating your weekends.
What a private chef business actually is
A private chef business is not a restaurant and it is not a catering company. You cook in people's homes, on their equipment (or equipment you bring), for their guests, on their schedule. That changes everything about how you price, plan, and protect yourself — because you are carrying the liability that a restaurant kitchen absorbs for you.
Most private chefs start solo: you, a knife roll, a packed car, and a stack of quotes. You grow by systemizing the parts that waste your weekends — the quotes, the menu planning, the settlement — so you can take more work without it eating you alive.
The legal and insurance basics
Before your first paid dinner, sort the business paperwork and the insurance. The exact requirements depend on your state and county, so treat this as a checklist to confirm locally, not legal advice.
- A business entity (often an LLC) and an EIN
- A food handler's certification or manager's card where required
- Liability insurance that covers cooking in a client's home
- Any cottage-food or local permitting your jurisdiction requires
- A simple client agreement or contract — use your own or an attorney's
Pricing from day one
Do not start by undercutting everyone. Start by pricing the whole job — food, rentals, travel, your time, the fee — and charge a deposit before you shop. The chefs who burn out are the ones who priced by the plate, forgot the drive and the hours, and worked a month for what should have been two weeks' pay.
Build a real quote every time, even for a friend. The habit is the business. The Quote Calculator exists because pricing from memory is how you lose money on a job you were excited about.
Getting your first clients
Your first clients are usually people you already know — friends, former coworkers, the people who watched you cook and asked 'would you ever do a dinner?' Say yes, do it well, and ask for a review and a photo (with permission) the day after settlement. Then ask for a referral.
After that, the work compounds. A branded quote, a clean playbook, a confirmation message the day before — those are the things that make a client rebook you and tell their friends. Professional paperwork is part of what they're paying for.
- Start with your network — say yes to the first real inquiry
- Send a branded quote, not a text with a number
- Collect a deposit before you shop
- Ask for a review and referral the day after settlement
The systems that make it scale
The difference between a chef who does five dinners a month and a chef who does twenty is not talent. It's systems. The quoting, the menu planning, the shopping and packing lists, the prep timelines, the settlement — once those are templated, each new job starts where the last one left off instead of from a blank page.
That is the whole reason this exists. The free Playbook Template runs one dinner end to end — event details, menu, shopping list, prep timeline, packing list, service notes, and a printout that makes you look like you've done it a thousand times. Start there. Add the quote calculator and the settlement keeper when the jobs start stacking up.
The day-after and the rebook
The day after the event, send one short thank-you message. After settlement is complete — that's the moment to ask for a review or a referral, not during the dinner. One clean touchpoint, then let the work speak.
Save every job. The next dinner starts from the last one's menu, quote, and settlement, not from memory. That's how a solo chef starts to look like a business.
Stop calculating by hand
Open the tool and get your numbers in minutes. No account, no card — just the work you came here to do.
