Four Inane Questions with Chef Caleb Fechter

Photo Courtesy of Caleb Fechter

Chef Caleb Fechter once helmed a $17 million food empire, with 15 bustling storefronts across the Midwest and a business born in his garage that became a regional sensation. But after a decade of scaling fast and managing big, something essential got lost along the way.

“The bigger it got, the further I felt from why I started,” Fechter says. “I wasn’t cooking anymore. I wasn’t connecting with the people I was feeding. It became about efficiency and reach—great for the bottom line, but not great for the soul.”

Earlier this year, Fechter hit reset. He launched Chef Caleb—a local, deeply personal culinary venture with a clear mission: to make food with intention, for individuals—not markets. No sprawling factories, no shipping boxes, no pretense—Just Fechter, in his kitchen, sourcing local ingredients, and preparing each meal by hand.

This isn’t a comeback; It’s a return. “It’s about simplicity, connection, and sustainability,” he says. “I wanted to build something slower, smaller, and more human. Something that felt like me again.”

Photo Courtesy of Caleb Fechter

In many ways, his new venture is a love letter—to food, to Kansas City, and to a life lived with more presence. Fechter shops at farmers markets. He knows who’s gluten-free, who’s training for a marathon, and who just needs a comforting meal after a long week.

His approach isn’t scalable—and that’s the point.

Outside the kitchen, Caleb’s life is just as grounded. He’s been married to his husband Jason, a fellow entrepreneur, for 16 years. They’re raising energetic seven-year-old twin boys, and he’s just as likely to be found riding his motorcycle as he is testing a new recipe.

We caught up with the culinary pro while he was in his fancy-schmancy kitchen to bombard him with our bonkers-bananas questionnaire. Who knew he could flambé and type out answers simultaneously? Bless.

The Pitch: Admit it, what menu item needs to be permanently banned forever? 

Chef Caleb Fechter: Stuffed. Bell. Peppers. Stuffed bell peppers look like party favors but taste like sadness crammed into a rubbery vegetable. The pepper itself, no matter how long you cook it, always retains that crisp yet flabby texture, like biting into a deflated pool toy filled with lukewarm disappointment. The filling is either offensively bland or aggressively seasoned, and the pepper itself has the unsettling texture of a water balloon filled with regret.

If you were an exotic spice, what exotic spice would you be?

Photo Courtesy of Caleb Fechter

Saffron. I’m rare, potent, and expensive. Best a little at a time. 

What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen in the history of cinema?

Admittedly, I do not like scary movies or suspenseful movies. I get startled very easily. I am so much in my head that anything that jumps out at me sends me into cardiac arrest. Movies rated above PG that aren’t romcoms or dramas I avoid like a blank Tinder profile. 

All that said, I saw Children of the Corn as a child. I don’t know why I saw it or what self-respecting adult allows a child to see that, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never be the same.

You can have anything you want on your vanity license plate. Whaddya’ choosin’? 

BYDABOAT. Buy the boat. Life happens only once (that we know). So just, buy the boat.

Bonus 5th Question: Money is no object. What’s the fanciest knife you’re buying for your kitchen?

I mean, as long as we are dreaming, I am buying a knife that is magically always sharp. I hate dull knives as much as stuffed bell peppers. How is this knife made you ask? Unicorn tears.