Heartumental Today Connect
So, you’ve stumbled into Heartumental—maybe looking for a job, a creative escape, or a place where your ambitions can marinate a little. Either way, here we are. From our corner kitchen in Peoria, Illinois, we cobble together a brand that somehow manages to serve “culinary pulse insights,” “wholesome foundations,” and “meal prep efficiency hacks” with a straight face. If that phrase salad has you intrigued (or smirking), you’re probably right where you need to be.
At Heartumental, we do food differently. We’re allergic to fast fads, but allergic to purity cults too. We don’t believe in meals that take five hours to make—or five seconds. Life deserves a little more flavor than beige protein sludge and a little less stress than gourmet towers designed to collapse by fork three. We’ve made it our business (literally) to bridge that maddening gap between sincere nourishment and modern exhaustion. And yes, we’re hiring.
Before You Decide Whether to Care
Let’s be clear: Heartumental isn’t some “visionary startup” clinging to the romance of kitchen counters and subscription boxes no one asked for. We’re a curated chaos of culinary nerds, grumpy realists, and cautious idealists all trying to turn busy life into good food without the performative Pinterest energy. You don’t have to “eat with intention” here. Just chew thoughtfully. Or not. We’re not checking.
Our founder, Xendris Zolmuth (yes, that’s a real name), started Heartumental with a mistrust of both the industry and its gurus. She’d spent years watching food culture swing from one absurdity to the next—from molecular foams to TikTok lasagnas—so she decided to stop complaining and serve a better way forward. Here you’ll find ingredient pairings that don’t try to “hack your dopamine,” global inspirations that go beyond food tourism, and weekly prep strategies more emotionally intelligent than anything involving Sunday burnout marathons. You can read more if you must: Heartumental.
The Types of Work We Call “Jobs”
Content Creators Who Actually Cook
You write, snap, or video recipes without turning them into filtered fantasy. Our readers don’t want to be soothed—they want real guidance, a laugh or two, and maybe a recipe that doesn’t require 38 prep bowls. If your mise en place looks like a rummage sale and your food still turns out brilliant, we should talk. Brown butter’s lovely. But so are shortcuts. If you know both, we’re listening.
Flavor Researchers Who Know Spices Aren’t “Exotic”
Get your hands dirty with salt profiles, regional citrus hybrids, or fermentation timelines that others might call “too much.” Write the kind of ethnographic notes that don’t flatten entire cultures into a garnish. This role exists because we’re tired of copy-paste “fusion” and bored by encyclopedic blandness. Curiosity welcome. Arrogance, less so.
Meal Prep Rationalists (Not Evangelists)
If you think “freezer meal Sunday” is more myth than method, congratulations—you’re honest. We’re looking for minds who see all sides: the chaos of over-worked schedules and the luxury of slow cooking, the cracked promise of “set and forget.” Your job? Craft tips and plans that land somewhere between survival mode and culinary joy.
Content/Product Designers Who Hate Overdesign
The world has enough sleek interfaces that don’t do much. Ours just needs to work—like those old clip magnets that hold every shopping list, plus coupons, plus hope. Collaborate with our editorial and research to bring form to flavor. Make something that looks lived-in, not labyrinthine.
Honestly, What Life Here Is Like
We’re based out of Peoria, Illinois. And before you roll your eyes at the Midwest, answer this: When was the last time you saw a garden in LA that didn’t look like a succulent influencer retreat? Our office is curtained light, test kitchens, secondhand chairs, and the faint hum of someone rinsing couscous in the background. Basic? Sure. Peaceful? You bet.
We don’t do “work hard, play hard.” We do work thoughtfully, and maybe don’t burn out in two years. You clock in (or we don’t care if you don’t, remote work is fine)—you do your bit, you finish your recipes or wrap your testing, and then you go home. Or walk to the community fridge, eat a weird pudding someone labeled “honestly not bad,” and move on with your life.
Does This Sound Jaded?
You bet. But also: honest. At Heartumental, we’d rather be figure-outers than fizzlers. We’ve seen too many jobs substitute performative enthusiasm for actual knowledge. If you’re tired of the same workplace narratives and craving work where your effort turns into tasty, tangible results—we’d love to hear from you.
Our Schedule, So You Can Plan Your Siege
You’ll find us (sometimes literally, sometimes in spirit) at:
1216 Simpson Street, Peoria, Illinois 61602, United States
Open Monday to Friday, 9 AM–5 PM CST
Stuff goes down. Lunch breaks may involve heated bao debates. The side fridge may house pickled experiments best left unopened. But our hours? They stay stable so your life can.
Fine, Let’s Talk About “Culture”
We’re not going to lure you with buzzwords or fake-fun perks. Our vibe is…navigable chaos with an undertow of ironic sincerity. Our team includes tired ex-restaurant folks, enthusiastic flavor wonks, perma-graduate students of olive oil acidity, and one microwave-reformist. We respect boundaries, default to transparency, and pretend to be stoic when your chili doesn’t win the Friday “Meal-Off.”
Diversity Pledge (Sans PR Padding)
No cults of sameness here. Real food is varied. Real life too. We recruit across backgrounds, perspectives, and taste buds. Whether you bring cultural nuance to flavor profiling or just know how to call out our unconscious bias when we screw up—we’re here (grudgingly, sometimes awkwardly) to learn.
Will You Grow Here?
Honestly? Probably. We won’t throw you into “leadership retreats” where the wifi never works. We’ll give you meaningful feedback, practical mentorship, and room to throw weird ideas at the culinary wall. And when they stick? Even better. We want thinkers who keep learning, creatives who challenge logic, and pragmatists who still care—just beneath the sarcasm.
The Founder, In Full Disclosure
Xendris Zolmuth didn’t expect to start a food platform, and she’ll tell you that without flinching. She’s got a background in food anthropology, a box of unread culinary prophecy books, and a battle-worn mandolin slicer from 2007. Under her leadership, Heartumental has become less about woo-woo wellness and more about careful, clever, imperfectly crafted nourishment. You can learn more about the mystery machine behind our madness at Heartumental.
You’ve Read This Far. Now What?
If you’re interested in working with people who will never pressure you into kale worship, count specks of vanilla, or pretend every job is a “passion project”—reach out. We’re looking for grown-up creatives in all forms: cynics who still want to make things better, cooks who think with their knives, writers who’d rather lose a trend than lose a reader’s trust.
Drop us a line. Tell us what strange combination of turmeric and trauma brought you here. Share your leftovers. Point us to the project you’re still secretly proud of. We’re probably hiring in your area of skill—and if not, we’ll still read your note seriously and with a snack.
Email us at [email protected] and make sure the subject line doesn’t say “Dear Sir or Madam.”
Or Just Skip the Charade
We’ve got more details and recipes you can flip through at Heartumental. See what you’d be helping to build (or slowly dismantle in favor of something better).
Ready to poke the skillet?
Apply for a position, send a snarky cover letter, or propose your own job title at whatever pace suits your nervous system: Heartumental. We’ll be here, stirring soup and judging each other’s lunch containers in silence.