Hi! I’m Marcus Holt,
Welcome to Flavor Trips! though friends call me Holt. The four whirlwinds who call me Dad just yell “Papa!” and hope I’m within earshot of the kitchen. I’m 44, born on the salt‑strewn docks of Charleston, South Carolina. Today I weave memories and masalas in a sunny Craftsman just outside Seattle, where cedar sap mingles with whatever experiment is simmering on my stove.
The Family That Inspires Me
I grew up an only child, so fatherhood hit like the best plot twist imaginable. Lila (13), Rowan (11), Juniper (8), and Pepper (5) chase laughter around the pots and ask the kind of questions that keep my curiosity lit. When they press their faces to a bowl to watch dough rise, I’m reminded that every dish is a story begging for an audience.
How the Journey Began
Those stories started early. My mother cooked Gullah classics but never let tradition sit still. My father captained cargo ships and mailed me flavors instead of postcards—berbere from Djibouti, preserved lemons from Tangier, jade‑green tea from Busan. By sixteen I was sautéing shrimp and okra in a skillet that had already circled the globe in my imagination, determined that one day I’d follow those ingredients home.
Chasing Flavors Around the World
I studied in culinary school in New Orleans, worked night shifts in a Harlem bistro, and saved every tip for research sabbaticals. I’ve traded knife skills for language lessons in a village backwater of Kerala, tapped palm wine beneath Oaxaca stars, and once sang karaoke in Osaka to win the trust of a seventy‑five‑year‑old ramen master who finally let me ladle broth at dawn. Not every adventure stuck the landing—ask my girls about the infamous durian crème brûlée. The sweetest memories are often sandwiched between mistakes.
Wayfinder Table: Seattle’s Globe‑Trotting Supper
Back in Seattle I pour every passport stamp into Wayfinder Table, my twice‑a‑month supper series that lets grown‑up palates roam. One night we trace the Silk Road with cumin‑dusted lamb and pomegranate molasses; the next we swim down Pacific currents with citrus‑cured geoduck and Sichuan pepper oil. I share the stories of the friends who taught me each recipe, because flavor is inseparable from the hands that first stirred it. If you’re hunting for Seattle pop up dinners that double as globe‑trotting field trips, Wayfinder is your map.
A Philosophy Shaped by Fatherhood
Food should spark wonder without demanding perfection. A world map hangs on our kitchen wall; every time my daughters taste a new spice, we pin that country and plan an imaginary trip. Adults who join my classes or dinners often leave with the same itch to seek, taste, and understand. If I can light that spark in busy people juggling careers and curiosity, I’ve done my job.
Next on the Horizon
In 2026 we’ll pile into a rattling camper and follow the old Spanish mission trail through California, teaching the girls how ceviche evolved as it sailed north and letting them hold history in their palms like warm tortillas. The most authentic dish I know is the one that pulls people to the table—kids balancing homework beside hibiscus agua fresca, travelers swapping exchange‑rate tales over cumin‑roasted carrots, and a tired parent realizing adventure can start on a Tuesday night right in their own kitchen.
Pull Up a Chair
Uncork that curiosity and book a seat at the next Wayfinder Table. Visit flavortrips.com or follow @FlavorTrips on Instagram for dates and menus. I’ll keep the ladle warm and the world in your bowl.