08/28/2026
Hi, guys. Chef here—posting from her hospital bed. ❤️
I just got out of surgery, and thankfully, I’m already feeling much better. I’m sore, exhausted, and probably a little too medicated to be trusted with Facebook—but there’s something I need to share with all of you.
This is one of the hardest posts I have ever had to make. As I sit here typing it, my heart breaks a little more with every keystroke.
Due to my ongoing health issues, combined with several other circumstances beyond our reasonable control, we have made the incredibly difficult decision to close Chef’s Kiss.
Our final day will be Sunday, and we will close our doors for the last time at 5:00 p.m.
This wasn’t an easy decision. It wasn’t made quickly, and it certainly wasn’t made because we stopped loving what we do. The truth is, we have poured everything we have into this restaurant—our time, our energy, our money, our hearts, and more sleepless nights than I could ever count.
We gave Chef’s Kiss everything we had.
Over this past year, you didn’t just walk through our doors and order dinner. You celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, engagements, date nights, family reunions, and ordinary Tuesdays with us. You laughed with our staff, danced to Orlando’s saxophone, supported our wild ideas, packed the dining room for our buffets, and occasionally ate us completely out of house and home.
You allowed us to become part of your memories—and in return, you became part of ours.
We have laughed, cried, celebrated, panicked, burned things, fixed things, changed plans at the last possible second, and somehow kept moving forward through all of it. It has been chaotic, exhausting, beautiful, and completely unforgettable.
To our regulars, our first-time guests, our employees, our families, our friends, and every person who shared a post, left a review, recommended us, or chose to spend their hard-earned money at our tables: thank you.
Thank you for believing in us.
Thank you for rooting for us.
Thank you for giving this crazy little restaurant a chance.
And thank you, Topeka, for one glorious year that we will carry with us forever.
Unfortunately, we simply cannot continue at this pace. As painful as it is to say goodbye, I have to listen to my body, protect my health, and accept that sometimes loving something deeply still isn’t enough to keep it going.
But we aren’t going to let Chef’s Kiss quietly fade away.
Tomorrow, we’re going to celebrate everything this place has been. We’ll have our buffet available all day, we’ll be doing Pass the Pasta, and Orlando will be filling the restaurant with the beautiful sound of his saxophone.
Come eat with us. Come laugh with us. Come tell us your favorite Chef’s Kiss memory. Come hug us, cry with us, and help us give this place the farewell it deserves.
Let’s pack the dining room.
Let’s make some noise.
Let’s send this thing out exactly the way we brought it in—with incredible food, beautiful music, complete chaos, and a whole lot of love.
One last time, Topeka. ❤️
From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for everything
