Chef Ashley Olson
Words by Emily Schuermann / Photos by Rachel Waters
Food has a unique ability to take us to places we’ve never been, connect us with people we’ve never known or who reside beyond our reach, and conjure up long-forgotten memories. The real talent, though, is when you can manage to bring someone along with you into those places and connections, and memories. I spent the morning in the home kitchen of Chef Ashley Olson, a private chef in Oklahoma City, as she worked through some of her favorite family recipes and recounted influential moments in her life.
While Chef Olson’s years of experience in restaurants and as the former private chef for the Oklahoma City Thunder basketball team shaped her professional career, it was watching Julia Child’s cooking shows as a young girl that first made her believe she could be a chef. She followed that dream into culinary school. “My chef instructor asked me to drop out,” she recalls. “Not because I wasn’t good enough, but because she thought I was ready. She became my mentor for the next few years, working alongside me in various restaurants, teaching me not just about food, but how to handle people, stress, and leadership. She shaped how I see kitchens—built on respect, empathy, and mentorship.”
Our initial meeting had actually been rescheduled due to plumbing issues; and while those details are typically inconsequential, it formed the framework of this first conversation. As we commiserated over the things we can’t control and the hectic paces of our lives, I noticed Chef Olson’s perfectly prepared and patient ingredients: lemons, parsley, cod fillets, and butter. “That’s one thing I love about food,” I said. “It doesn’t talk back. You’re always the boss of the food no matter how crazy everything else might be.”
And now, within the walls of Chef Olson’s home, flooded by the glow of the morning sun, emerged the music of the kitchen that formed her. Above the cracks and hissing of the sizzling cod, while squeezing in lemon and stirring in parsley and cream and capers, she said, “I’m Norwegian, and while our family rarely cooked from scratch, there were a few recipes that always felt special and had a way of bringing our family together.”
In a matter of minutes we were on to the next recipe: lefse, a traditional Norwegian potato flatbread. Standing around the dining room table, I joined her in portioning and rolling and flattening the dough. All the while, I could almost picture another half-dozen pairs of helping hands—the laughter, the stories—reaching and grabbing and stealing dough until all of the last bits were rolled out and in the skillet. Before long, I found my moment with the perfect bite: warm honeyed lefse and creamy lemon cod, creating a combination of flavors that almost made me believe I was taking that bite in Norway … truly.
Chef Olson began to serve the blueberry torte. “This is a really special dessert,” she explained. “My grandma would make it for every family gathering and now my dad makes it. It’s actually the first time I’ve ever made her recipe. I’ve always wanted to make it, but never took the time. This is really special for me.”
Layers of whipped cream and sweetened cream cheese and homemade blueberry filling spread over a graham cracker crust. It was beautiful and rustic and looked as though it would be the first dessert to disappear at the Sunday potluck. Upon first glance, though, I knew I was actually seeing a plate of beautiful memories. Until now, I’d been honored with the first bites of Chef Olson’s creations, but the first taste of torte belonged to her. She paused and then slowly took her bite. It was a sacred moment of silence only broken when she exhaled saying “That’s my grandma, yes—that’s her.” We’d both been blessed with the reminder of a grandmother’s steadfast love and the ability of those efforts. Then, with the chef’s words and that blueberry torte, I realized one more thing about food that I love most of all: when it does talk back.
