A CHEF’S FREEDOM: How Matthew Giannetti Found His Voice at Pelham Country Club

Pelham Country Club is not a place that hides its quirks. In fact, it celebrates them. The Club's most defining visual—an interstate highway and an Amtrak rail line cutting directly through the golf course—would be a liability anywhere else. At Pelham, it's a signature. Members walk beneath I-95 and the Northeast Corridor as they play, and once a year, during the member guest known as The Railroad, the underpass becomes a culinary stage. Lights, food stations, music, and unexpected touches transform the concrete tunnel into something theatrical. It's the kind of moment that makes people stop, pull out their phones, and say, "Only at Pelham."

Pelham's membership is young by Club standards—average join age around 38—and many work in Manhattan, where dining at Le Bernardin or 11 Madison Park is not a special occasion but a Tuesday. For Giannetti, that proximity to world-class dining isn't intimidating. It's motivating. His goal is not to replicate the city’s fine dining scene, but to create a Club experience that feels equally intentional, equally memorable, and uniquely Pelham.

GK: Pelham has such a distinctive footprint. How does that shape your approach?

MG:  Pelham is bold. We have a 56,000 square foot clubhouse across three towns, tennis under a winter bubble, pickleball, paddle, Padel coming soon, two pools, a splash pad, bowling lanes—you name it. Members are used to world-class dining in the city, so the Club must feel just as compelling. That's the challenge I love.

Giannetti's path to Pelham began long before he stepped into a professional kitchen. Raised in an Italian household on Long Island, he grew up in a home where food was more than sustenance—it was identity, ritual, and connection. His father worked in restaurants, so kitchens were familiar territory. But it was his parents' health challenges—his mother's lupus and his father's multiple sclerosis—that pushed him to understand food as something deeper. Cooking became a way to care for them, to bring comfort, and to feel useful during a difficult time.

He didn't initially plan to become a chef. Law school was the goal. He imagined himself as a criminal prosecutor until a professor quoted Confucius: Do what you love, and you'll never work a day in your life. The line landed with unexpected force. The next day, he applied to the Culinary Institute of America.

GK: How did you end up in the Club world?

MG: Total accident. I had an externship lined up with the New York Yankees, and it fell through. Crystal Springs Golf Resort had an opening, so I took it. And I realized immediately: this is where I belong. In a club, it’s never just one restaurant. It's like ten businesses in a trench coat operating as one country Club.

"We're not in the food business or the golf business—we're in the experience business."

That early Club experience revealed something important: Giannetti thrives in complexity. A la carte service blends into banquets; halfway houses roll into staff meals for 150 employees twice a day in season. The pace is relentless, the variety endless, and the stakes high. But for him, that's the appeal. Clubs are ecosystems. They require creativity, adaptability, and a willingness to serve not just a plate of food, but a community.

After CIA, he cooked at Triomphe in Manhattan's Iroquois Hotel, then trained under the Master Cuisinier of France, Guy Reuge, at Sandbar in Cold Spring Harbor. Reuge’s influence—precision, discipline, respect for ingredients—still shapes his cooking. From there, Giannetti moved fully into clubs, first at American Yacht Club and then at Old Oaks Country Club, before Pelham came calling. At Pelham, he found not just a kitchen, but a canvas.

GK: You're known for a “never say no” philosophy. What does that look like day to day?

MG: I refuse to say no unless something is truly impossible. If a member remembers a dish from two years ago and we don't have the ingredient, someone goes to get it. The dish isn't the point—the memory is. I get to be part of their memory now. That's the best part of this job.

That philosophy has produced some of Pelham's most beloved moments. One year, Giannetti built a roaming raw bar on an old golf cart—oysters, shrimp, clams, ice, and a few celebratory pours—rolling up mid-round to surprise golfers. It was whimsical, unexpected, and instantly iconic. Moments like that are not accidents. They're the result of a chef who sees hospitality as theater, memory, and connection.

GK: You're one of the youngest executive chefs in the region, yet the youngest on your own team. How do you lead?

MG: By investing in people. Training, wine education, support, and treating employees like long-term partners. If we don't put our staff first, we can't take care of our members. That's the heart of enlightened hospitality.

"If we don't put our staff first, we can't take care of our members."

Many of Pelham's cooks and leaders have been at the Club for decades. Giannetti sees longevity as both a strength and a responsibility. He's piloting an H-2 B program to support seasonal staffing, expand training opportunities, and build a culture where employees feel valued and supported. His leadership style is rooted in humility and service, shaped in part by earning his Eagle Scout Award as a teenager.

That mindset is a major reason Pelham's board expanded his responsibilities. When the club’s General Manager departed, Pablo Reyes moved into the GM role, and Giannetti was asked to evaluate operations across the entire clubhouse. His impact was immediate. Shortly afterward, he was appointed Assistant General Manager and Director of Food & Beverage, while continuing to lead the culinary program. It's an uncommon dual role, but one that fits him naturally.

GK: What dishes are inspiring you right now?

MG: A Chilean sea bass with hibiscus Beurre Blanc and sea beans—my favorite vegetable in the world. And a bright yellow tomato purée that feels like a spring version of caprese. A lot of my inspiration comes from the raw ingredient itself. When the ingredient is beautiful, I want the dish to highlight it.

"A lot of my inspiration comes from the raw ingredient itself."

Giannetti gardens at home on Long Island, feeding his family from the land through the growing season. He brings that same ingredient-driven philosophy into Pelham's kitchen, where the menu changes daily but the mission stays constant: create hospitality that feels personal, intentional, and alive.

GK: What makes Pelham feel like home for you?

MG: Freedom. I'm allowed to be the chef I want to be here. If I wake up and want to make sushi, I can order the fish and put together a sushi special. The menu changes, but the goal never does: create experiences that become memories.

“I'm allowed to be the chef that I want to be here."

Pelham Country Club is a place of contrasts; it is both historic yet youthful, traditional yet bold, grounded yet willing to reinvent itself. In many ways, it mirrors the chef who now helps lead it. 

Giannetti's story is one of discipline and creativity, of family and resilience, of a chef who sees food not just as craft, but as a connection. And at Pelham, connection is everything. The wow factor isn't a gimmick. It's philosophy. A promise. A way of turning a country Club into a home.