A Little Love Note, a Big Life Update

If I were sitting across from you with a coffee right now, I’d probably take your hand, take a deep breath, and say, “Okay… here it is.”

After 17 years of cooking, delivering, feeding, celebrating, and building Pâtachou with you, we are beginning the final chapter of this season of our lives.

First, the practical info, because I know you’ll look for it:

We will be on holiday break from 20 December 2025 to 4 January 2026

Our final delivery day will be 19 March 2026

And now the heart part.

The other day, Grég and I did the math. Between the two of us, we’ve poured nearly 120,000 hours of work into Pâtachou. One hundred and twenty thousand hours of stirring, baking, chopping, planning, worrying, laughing, fixing, starting again, burning out a little, and still showing up. When I say this business has been our life, I mean that quite literally.

From the very beginning, I knew I did not want to still be living this kind of physical, all-consuming work when I turned 50. This business is beautiful, but it is brutal. You are on your feet for 12+ hours a day. You eat bites of food standing up, off upside-down crates. You kiss your kids goodbye in the morning and see them again when everyone is already tired. Pâtachou has been a passion, a calling, an obsession… and now it is time for a different rhythm.

I turn 50 on 22 March 2026.

Our final delivery day is 19 March 2026.

Exactly three days earlier.

To say that I am proud we actually pulled this off is the understatement of the century. I am wildly proud of us. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Not because it was easy or pretty or balanced. But because it was hard, and we stayed, and we built something real, and we are closing this chapter on our own terms.

Pâtachou was never “just a business.” It was our kitchen, our rhythm, our village. It ran alongside births, deaths, illness, heartbreak, exhaustion, and joy. It held us through seasons of deep grief and seasons of ridiculous hope. And somehow, through all of it, you kept letting us cook for you. That still floors me.

But seasons change. And ours is changing in a really big way.

In spring 2026, we’re moving to Normandy. It looks like we found a pretty incredible house and a whole new landscape for the next chapter of our lives. There will be foggy mornings, green everywhere, too many renovation projects, and a slower, wilder rhythm to learn.

Pâtachou as you’ve always known it is ending… but it’s not disappearing.

It’s evolving.

Over the next year, you’ll start to see the quiet birth of Pâtachou Market www.patachoumarket.com along with The Village Table, which sits at the heart of what comes next. Less “catering company,” more “how do we feed our people, near and far, in a new way?” Grocery finds, pantry staples we love, tools for hosting, for gathering, for building your own little village around a table. The spirit stays. The format changes.

I’m also starting to write again. Really write. About all of this. The move. The letting go. The fear and the thrill. Food, recipes, identity, work, motherhood, starting over at 50, and rebuilding a life that fits this next season. You can find that on my Substack here:https://substack.com/@thevillagetable That's where I’ll be sharing the behind-the-scenes, the long-form thoughts, and yes, recipes too. Once a cook, always a cook.

And yes, I’m also trying to be a little more intentional about where I put my attention online. Fewer mega platforms owning every corner of our lives, more slow spaces, more direct connection. We’ll still show up where you already find us, but I’m gently exploring what “less algorithm, more human” could look like.

Between now and March, we’ll keep doing what we’ve always done: cooking with care, delivering with love, and squeezing in as many moments as we can with you before this chapter closes.

Thank you for trusting us with your meals, your guests, your families, and your lives for all these years. Truly. From the bottom of my heart.

This isn’t goodbye yet. It’s just the beginning of the long, sentimental, slightly chaotic countdown.

With all my love,

Rebecca