The First Film I Ever Made (And the 333 People Who Made It Happen)

In the summer of 2009, I returned to Rome with a couple of friends, a backpack full of film gear we barely knew how to use, and an idea that wouldn’t let go of me.

At the time, I didn’t think of myself as a filmmaker. I wasn’t fresh out of film school or chasing a Sundance dream. I was someone who had spent the past 20 years in restaurants, learning the power of food and how to hold a crew together through chaos, sweat, and a shared sense of purpose. But something had shifted in me that year, and the change started in a kitchen on a hill perched atop Rome.

The Kitchen That Changed Everything

In the Fall of 2008, I worked in the kitchen at the American Academy in Rome, at the Rome Sustainable Food Project. The American Academy in Rome is an international communal hub that supports artists, scholars, writers, and composers — people at the top of their fields, through awarding Fellowships. Every day, I cooked alongside a small team, preparing lunch for about 60-80 people, including academy staff, Fellows, and their families. The food was local, seasonal, and deeply intentional. The produce came from farmers and artisans we knew by name.

Alice Waters had been invited to “fix” the Academy’s food program. She brought in a chef and a sous chef to connect with local artisan food producers. The long dining table in the courtyard brought community to the Academy, and the kitchen was the beating heart. We weren’t selling meals. We were feeding people, nourishing their bodies so they could do meaningful work. The rhythms, the values, the people — all of it left a deep impression on me.

Throughout my time there, I was gathering photos and videos with a little point-and-shoot camera. Morning light. Pasta making. Fun in the kitchen. I burned it to DVD and shared it with my colleagues in the kitchen to remember our time together. 

It wasn’t much. But it made people feel something.

And that was the spark. I flew to New York to spend some time with friends, and was staying at my friends Rob and Carmella's house. I showed them the film I had made and pitched the idea of returning to Italy to make a documentary about the Rome sustainable food project. Rob had a video camera, lav mics, and a tripod — everything (I thought) needed to make a film! And he was a good friend! And he spoke Italian! And he was in!

A Wild Idea and 333 Supporters

When I first proposed making the film, I pitched it to Mona, the Academy's chef. My idea was simple: I’d come back with my friend Rob, stay at the Academy, eat in the kitchen, film during the day, and create something beautiful. It felt like home to me — and in some ways, I thought I was entitled to be there, especially since I wanted to tell its story.

Mona quickly (and kindly) shut that down.

She told me that if I wanted to make a real film, I’d need to treat it like a real project. That meant raising money — not just for post-production, but for transportation to the farms, lodging, food, and everything else it would take to bring this idea to life. She dispelled my delusions of grandeur with the kind of clarity only a seasoned chef can deliver.

So I got to work.

This was before Kickstarter. Before Patreon. Before “crowdfunding” was a buzzword. If you wanted to raise money for a creative project in 2009, you had to ask people — directly. So I made a pitch: if 333 people each donated $33, I could raise just under $11,000. That would cover the costs of travel, food, and editing.

At the time, I was living in San Francisco, working at a wine shop. Many of the regulars who had come to trust me with their wine recommendations became backers. Friends from across the country pitched in to help make it real. 

We held a fundraiser at the San Francisco Italian wine shop Biondivino. Ceri, the owner, donated the space and wine. Melissa made crostini. Thad mixed up an incredible punch. It was a great little party, full of laughter, encouragement, and real support. And we raised some dough.

It felt incredible to be supported—not for something I had already done, but for something I wanted to do. My community believed in the vision before I even knew what the final film would look like. They believed in me before I fully believed in myself.

Filming in Italy (And Realizing I Was a Director)

Rob was fluent in Italian, kind-hearted, and just as curious about the food world as I was. He was trained as an actor and experienced in making short films. We also brought along our friend Nora, who came down from Germany for a week, and another friend Marco flew in from NYC. Together, we spent two intense weeks filming at the Academy and visiting food producers near Rome.

We were shooting on a Panasonic HVX200—a camera we barely knew how to operate. We shot 45 hours of footage. For a 13-minute film.

A lot of that was because of inexperience. I didn’t know when to stop rolling. I’d film while looking for a shot, while focusing, while adjusting exposure. I remember learning about the “gain” button and having no idea what it did, only that sometimes something about our footage looked wrong. But we kept going.

On our first day of filming, a farmer named Giovanni arrived at the Academy to deliver vegetables. We scrambled to film him, handheld camera bouncing, hearts racing. He started speaking rapid Italian. Rob translated: “He’s asking who the director is.”

I froze. I had no idea how to respond.

Then Rob looked at me and said, “He’s the director.”

It felt like being handed a job I didn’t know I had already been doing. And in that moment, I realized — I am the director. Not because I went to film school. Not because I had the right camera. But because I had the vision and the responsibility to bring this story to life. Shit!

Nora made this movie during the week she was with us traveling. When me and Rob saw it, 
we thought shit, this is going to be better than the move we are making! And I think we were right.

Four Farmers, One Film

The story we captured was simple: a glimpse into the lives of people who had dedicated themselves to doing one thing well.

• A Renaissance farmer who embraced weeds growing alongside his vegetables.
  

• A pasta maker who grew, milled, and shaped his own wheat into pasta using methods passed down for generations.
  

• A lentil farmer trying to save an heirloom variety called Lentche di Onano from extinction
  

• A Tuscan family raising rare Cinta Senese pigs on pasture, making salami the way it had been done for centuries.

Each of them welcomed us into their fields, kitchens, and homes. We drank espresso together and wandered their land. They were gracious to our endless questions and our intrusion into their real work.

Dinner with the Director of Food, Inc.

Halfway through our shoot, something surreal happened.

Robert Kenner — the director of Food, Inc. — and his wife Marguerite were vacationing in Rome, and Alice invited them to the Academy. Food, Inc. is the movie I thought I was making. I had read Fast Food Nation and The Omnivore’s Dilemma and thought The Rome Food Movie might help change the food system in some big way like those books had done for me. And here was a legit director at the school during its food transformation. I felt extremely jealous.

Rob, Nora, and I met them on the terrace and hit it off with them immediately. That night, they had reservations at a fancy place in town, but we invited them to join us at a favorite neighborhood spot: Filetti Bacala. They only serve a few things: buttered bread with salami or anchovy, puntarelle salad and fried bacala. The Kenners canceled their reservation and joined us for a delicious meal. I felt this sense of full-circle connection. Here I was, eating with the director of the film I’d thought I was making.

Months later, back in New York, he invited us to the Food, Inc. premiere.

It was one of the most powerful food films I’ve ever seen.

And I was okay with not having made it. :) 

Finishing the Film

It took two years to edit The Rome Food Movie. I was working full-time and learning how to cut a story from 45 hours of footage without losing my mind.

We eventually got there, thanks to the help of my editor friend Jennifer. The chef, Mona, had introduced me to her before I started the project to see if the film was a good idea. Jennifer indeed thought it was! She promised to help me get it over the finish line once I got it to a good spot.

To celebrate, we hosted two screenings. The first was in New York, where I’d done much of the editing. We held a small fundraiser at my friend Andrew’s wine school. My friend Spring made delicious food, and Janine and Camillo from Omni Wine and Tim from Ploaner Selections donated wine. It felt like a real community moment. Friends, donors, and strangers sat together and watched something we had all helped create.

The second screening was in San Francisco at my friend Molly’s school. I remember being super intimidated! There were about 100 people in the room. But I did it. It got to celebrate the jitters away at the afterparty. My friend Thad donated space, food, and drinks at his acclaimed Bar Agricole.

What I’d Do Differently (And What I Wouldn’t)

I wouldn’t change a thing.

Sure, the audio could’ve been better. We could’ve planned more. I probably would’ve shot less. But the beauty of that project was that it was a total leap into the unknown. No blueprint. No backup plan. Just belief.

It wasn’t about making something perfect. It was about making something true.

The film didn’t have a big impact in terms of policy or distribution. It didn’t go viral. It didn’t land us on any major stages.

But it changed me.

It taught me how to listen. How to follow a story instead of forcing it. How to trust my instincts. How to capture the magic in ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

And maybe most of all, it taught me that people will show up for you if you invite them into something meaningful.

Full Circle

So that’s the film that was the foundation for One Hundred Seconds. We create authentic documentaries for purpose-driven organizations. We still work with farmers. But we also work with nonprofits, clean energy companies, educators, health care providers — anyone trying to make the world better.

We shoot in kitchens and clinics, boardrooms and basements, rooftops and riversides. But the through-line is always the same: real people, telling real stories.

And it all started with that little film in Rome.

So if you were one of those 333 people who gave $33 — thank you.

You helped me make something that changed the course of my life.

And if you’re out there wondering whether you should start that project, even if you’re not ready — I hope this gives you your answer.