Amelia Eudailey used to log off Zoom calls and head straight into back-to-back strategy meetings. These days, she logs off and reaches for a pair of latex gloves — to prep shrimp salad, mash potatoes, and slice sourdough buns. All for a hot dog.
📌 Business: Swedish hot dog pop-up (Chef Hej Hej) — a Bay Area street food concept rooted in Scandinavian tradition 💰 Revenue: $1,600–$2,000 per event 🗓️ Started: 2023 — went full-time October 2024
"I just kept following the things that brought me joy — and somehow it led here."
Not just any hot dog, though. Amelia's version is a love letter to Swedish street food, built on a local sourdough bun, stuffed with house-made shrimp salad and mashed potatoes, and finished with pickles — all sourced from San Francisco's best independent vendors.
From Corporate Ladder to Hot Dog Cart
Before Chef Hej Hej, Amelia had built a career that looked impressive on paper. She'd moved through scientific research, event management, and healthcare product marketing before landing a role at Zoom — one of the most recognized tech brands in the world.
But something kept nagging at her.
"Even when things were going well professionally, I kept going back to the joy I felt sharing Swedish food and traditions with my friends and family," she said. Born in the U.S. but raised with deep ties to her Swedish roots, Amelia grew up making regular trips overseas. The food — the shrimp salads, the pickled things, the soft bread wraps — stayed with her long after she landed in San Francisco in 2020.
Rather than enroll in culinary school, she did something more direct: she applied for a weekend line cook position at Octavia, one of San Francisco's most acclaimed restaurants. No degree. No formal training. Just a willingness to learn on the line. She got the job, showed up, and spent six months learning how to handle volume, work a station, and prep at speed.
Then, one morning in 2023, she spotted an Instagram post from a neighborhood bodega looking for food vendors. She replied, picked a date, and built a menu. Chef Hej Hej was officially born.
The Pop-Up That Started It All
Amelia's debut event was, by her own admission, wildly overambitious.
She was still working full-time at Zoom and picking up weekend restaurant shifts — while simultaneously designing a full pop-up menu featuring multiple hot dog variations, a Swedish meatball sub, two desserts, and custom packaging sourced from local vendors. Testing recipes in advance? There wasn't exactly time for that.
"I wish I could say I tested all the recipes before the event," she said, laughing. "But I was just trying to get everything ready in time."
Despite the chaos, the turnout was massive. Friends, co-workers, and curious passersby filled the line. By the end of the day, she'd grossed $1,540 — with roughly $575 in food costs, $225 in labor, and about $500 in one-time equipment purchases (coolers, bus bins, propane, serving utensils). After everything, she cleared around $240 in profit.
That number didn't account for the unpaid hours she'd poured in all weeks. Or what happened on the drive home.
"I accidentally put a pot of hot dog water in the back of my car," she said. "Then I drove up a hill in San Francisco and heard it crash. The water went everywhere — and the hot dogs literally rolled down the street."
She pulled over, cleaned up the mess, and went home exhausted. Then she started planning the next one.
Finding Her Flow
The high of that first event didn't last long on the revenue side. Several pop-ups that followed barely cleared $800 — a stark reminder that foot traffic is unpredictable when you don't have a permanent home.
Amelia rotated through wine bars, restaurants, and neighborhood markets across the city, each with its own audience and its own unknowns. She kept showing up. And she kept adjusting.
The biggest shift came when she narrowed her menu down to one hero item: her Swedish hot dog. Instead of trying to be everything, she leaned into the dish that people kept coming back for. She added a few low-effort upsells — bags of imported Swedish candy, branded Chef Hej Hej merch — and finally turned on tipping through her square app. Those changes alone pushed her typical event gross from unpredictable lows to a reliable $1,600–$2,000 range, with roughly 65% translating to take-home income.
"The candy was such a low-effort add-on," she said. "And tipping felt weird at first, but it's made a huge difference."
Fewer menu items also meant less prep time, less food waste, and more energy to focus on quality sourcing: sourdough buns from Rize Up (a Black-owned San Francisco bakery), shrimp from a local fishmonger, and produce from the farmer's market.
The one thing she still hasn't solved? Labor. "I've only been profitable because of all the friends who've helped for free," she said plainly. "If you're reading this, you know who you are — I owe you the most."
The Day It Got Real
Six months into running Chef Hej Hej, Amelia landed a feature in Eater SF.
At the time, she had a small weekday residency in the Outer Sunset — Wednesday afternoons, nothing flashy. But it was consistent enough for a local editor to take notice. The article went live in March 2024, and the response hit immediately.
"That day I sold 125 hot dogs in two hours," she said.
She remembers finishing a Zoom call from the pop-up location, closing her laptop, snapping on latex gloves, and looking up to find a line out the door. Her friend — photographer Angela DeCenzo — was there capturing the whole thing. Friends were working the booth. Strangers were tagging the shop online. Something had changed.
That was the moment she knew this wasn't a side project anymore. But she also knew that feelings don't pay San Francisco rent.
At the time, she was grossing about $2,500 a month between pop-ups and private chef gigs, taking home around $1,600. Not enough to walk away from a tech salary. So, she opened a Google Sheet and titled it simply: "Leave My Job."
The spreadsheet tracked her income targets, savings runway, monthly expenses, and the exact vesting timeline for her remaining Zoom stock options. She booked more private chef work, started teaching cooking classes, and cut her personal expenses wherever she could.
By October 2024, she had her number. She gave notice, gave herself a 12-month runway, and jumped.
"It wasn't a leap of faith," she said. "It was a calculated jump. I knew my numbers, I had a plan, and I gave myself the time."
What She Got Right — and What She'd Rethink
Some of Amelia's smartest early moves had nothing to do with cooking.
From the beginning, she invested $700 in a brand identity kit and $800 in a professional website — decisions that drew skepticism from people who told her to save the money and DIY it. She ignored them. "I knew I needed a clear voice and a visual identity," she said. "It's made everything easier." That cohesive look — from menu boards to merch to Instagram — helped Chef Hej Hej stand out in a city full of talented food creatives.
What she'd do differently? Start taking social media seriously from day one.
"I didn't realize how important it was to just show the food," she said. "People don't want to guess what you sell — they want to see it." It's a simple lesson, but in the pop-up world, a scroll-stopping photo can be worth more than any flyer.
🔑 Pro Tips: Amelia's Advice for Food Pop-Up Success
- Know your costs down to the cent. Track every ingredient and expense before you price anything — even if you can't pay yourself yet, you need to know your floor.
- Make the food the star on social. Lead with clear, appetizing photos and make it immediately obvious what you're selling and why it's worth the trip.
- Choose venues with built-in foot traffic. Bars, markets, and spots that already host pop-ups give you an audience from day one — don't start somewhere you have to build from zero.
- Prep everything you possibly can in advance. Last-minute prep is how mistakes happen; whatever can be made the night before, make it the night before.
- Use Instacart Pro for last-minute supply runs. It has saved Amelia countless trips for forgotten ingredients, extra packaging, or emergency gear.
- Stay connected to why you started. "You'll burn out fast if you're doing it for others and not for yourself," she said — and that's the kind of advice that doesn't show up on a spreadsheet.
What's Next for Chef Hej Hej
Seven months into her full-time chapter, Amelia has already cut her cost of living by 40%, grown her monthly income consistently, and still has savings in the bank. The calculated jump is landing.
Her plans for 2025 include:
- Traveling for pop-ups across the country to bring Swedish hot dogs to new cities
- Expanding private chef work and pursuing brand collaborations
- Growing her social media presence with more behind-the-scenes food content
- Launching a Substack to document the real, unfiltered journey of building Chef Hej Hej
"I want to share Swedish-style hot dogs with as many people as I can," she said. "But I also want people to understand the story — where it comes from, why it matters, and how much love goes into every part of it."
A brick-and-mortar location isn't off the table, but it's not the goal right now either. Amelia is more focused on building something that feels sustainable — financially and emotionally — than on scaling fast. That means flexibility, creativity, and keeping joy at the center of every decision.
She's still slicing buns by hand. Still driving across San Francisco to gather ingredients from the vendors she loves. Still surrounded by the friends who show up, pitch in, and cheer her on from behind the booth.
And she wouldn't have it any other way.
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