Hospitality Starts With Trust
“Hospitality starts long before the first plate reaches the table.”
Reflections by Chef Adam Vandermey
9 minute read · Hospitality Philosophy
There was a time early in my culinary cannabis journey where I thought success meant making sure everyone left dinner high.
Not uncomfortable.
Not out of control.
But definitely high.
At the time, I thought that was what people expected from a culinary cannabis experience. I didn’t want anyone leaving thinking there “wasn’t enough cannabis” in the food. Like a lot of people entering this space, I was relying heavily on internet information, rough infusion calculations and personal experimentation. I had already greened myself out a few times trying to understand infusions and potency, but I still believed stronger meant better.
I was wrong.
Everything changed after one of our early test dinners with family and friends.
I overserved a close friend.
She had a bad experience, and I remember feeling absolutely horrible watching it unfold. We did everything we could to help her become comfortable again. We gave her CBD, found her a quiet place to sit and stayed with her while she tried to regain control of the experience.
What scared me most was how easy it had been.
At that moment, I realized something that would eventually shape the entire philosophy behind Your
Canna Chef:
Getting fucked up is a stupid goal for a dinner.
That experience forced me to completely rethink how I viewed cannabis in hospitality.
I stopped chasing strength and started chasing control.
I began testing legally available edibles and beverages to better understand how my own body processed cannabinoids. I became obsessed with learning how different doses affected social comfort, relaxation and overall experience. I invested in infusion testing equipment because I wanted to be able to look a guest in the eye and confidently tell them exactly how much THC was in their food.
More importantly, I started treating cannabis with the same level of discipline and respect that I apply to every other ingredient in my kitchen.
I never want someone to get sick from my food.
Whether that comes from improper handling, poor preparation or over-intoxication, the result is the same:
the guest experience has failed.
That realization changed everything for us.
Jeanette immediately recognized the wellness side of culinary cannabis. A close friend of hers had battled cancer at a young age while raising children. Her doctor prescribed medicinal cannabis for pain management, but she wasn’t comfortable smoking and was nervous about how edibles might affect her ability to stay present with her family.
We often talk about how different that experience may have been if someone had been there to guide her safely and intentionally through the process instead of leaving her to navigate uncertainty alone.
That became part of our mission.
We realized very quickly that people weren’t just looking for recipes or stronger infusions.
They were looking for guidance.
They wanted to feel safe.
They wanted someone they could trust to help them understand how cannabis could fit into their lives responsibly and intentionally.
That is why we eventually stopped focusing on potency entirely.
One of the things that still frustrates me most in today’s cannabis industry is hearing people walk into dispensaries and immediately ask:
“What has the highest THC?”
To me, that’s the equivalent of walking into a beer store and choosing the strongest possible beer simply because it has the highest alcohol percentage.
Most people are not drinking Maximum Ice because it tastes incredible or enhances the experience of a great meal with friends. They are drinking it to get intoxicated as quickly as possible.
Cannabis deserves better than that.
And honestly, people deserve better than that too.
At Your Canna Chef, we don’t teach people how to create dangerously high-potency edibles. Not because we can’t, but because we fundamentally disagree with the goal.
We believe abusing the body or overwhelming the experience disrespects both the guest and the plant itself.
Instead, our philosophy became centered around what I now call:
“a comfortable glow.”
Not intoxication for the sake of intoxication.
Not proving tolerance.
Not pushing limits.
Just thoughtful, intentional enhancement of an experience.
Over time, that philosophy evolved into operational systems:
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individualized dosing
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guided pacing
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no shared plates
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precise infusion testing
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constant guest communication
Every one of those systems exists for the same reason:
Hospitality starts with trust.
Guests cannot relax if they feel uncertain about what they consumed, how much they consumed or whether the person serving them truly understands the responsibility they are carrying.
Cannabis hospitality is not about serving the strongest edible in the room.
It is about creating an environment where people feel safe enough to enjoy the experience confidently.
That responsibility deserves respect.
Respect for the plant.
Respect for the guest.
Respect for the experience.
Respect for the profession.
And in our little corner of the cannabis industry, earning that respect means never serving guesses.