“Joseph Hayes,” he said, extending a hand.
We were neighbors at a long, narrow harvest table at this media gathering. His longtime partner, Jennifer Greenhill-Taylor, sat just across.
Hayes wasn’t a large man, though in spirit and heart and wonderfully wild white hair, he was. And his name, of course, preceded him.
“THE Joseph Hayes?!” I asked.
He laughed, and it was off to the races.
The conversation began in the culinary sphere, but quickly morphed from food to food writing to writing to the arts overall.
And by night’s end, THE Joseph Hayes — the name under which I entered his contact info and now remains, marking treasured text threads past — became an unexpected mentor.
Fresh food, always: Joseph Reed Hayes and Jennifer Greenhill-Taylor always enjoyed the Audubon Park Community Market. (Courtesy Michael Lothrop)
The world lost him suddenly, on July 16, 2025. He was 71.
He died at home in Richmond, Virginia, where he and Greenhill-Taylor had relocated not long before.
My colleague, Matthew J. Palm, wrote a lovely obit in the wake of his passing, featuring a parade of artists whose visions and voices Hayes helped encourage and develop.
Amid the city’s food scene, he leaves behind similar stories, many to be told this weekend, as Hayes’ Orlando family — neighbors, friends, foodies, creatives of all stripes — comes together for a Celebration of Life at the Timucua Arts Foundation.
Kind and encouraging, Joseph Reed Hayes was ‘a beacon of creative energy’ | Appreciation
It was among his artistic homes here in town, a place where Hayes’ affinity for jazz and poetry and even cooking came together (guests, including Hayes, would bring dishes for pre-show communal potlucks back in the day), a place where many of his original plays were staged.
Hayes, whose father was a short-order cook, channeled his creativity to the plate long before the page or stage. Aspirations of chefdom, in fact, took him to the esteemed Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, an hour’s drive from his native Bronx, but he lasted only one semester.
“[At CIA], he realized that he didn’t want to work that hard,” Greenhill-Taylor told the Orlando Sentinel. “He had no desire to kill himself in a kitchen and decided he would find another way to get involved with food.”
The diner culture of his childhood informed Hayes’ appreciation of comfort and simplicity, she says.
“He’d go there and spend time because he was allowed to read all the comics for free and could watch his dad cook.”
His neighborhood, rich with immigrants, helped drive his palate toward diversity.
That palate would hit its stride when Hayes landed in Orlando in 1996, chasing a new life — and love.
He and Greenhill-Taylor, then a copy editor for the Orlando Sentinel, had met a year earlier on an AOL forum for writers, but despite the connection, Hayes found his way into the paper’s freelance roster without assistance.
Matthew J. Palm / Orlando Sentinel
Joseph Reed Hayes directs performer Lauren Carder Fox in a rehearsal of “Destination Moon” at Timucua Arts in Orlando. A celebration of his life will take place there at 1 p.m. Feb. 8. (Orlando Sentinel file)
“I gave him the editor’s name, but he could’ve gotten that out of the paper,” she says.
“He’d always wanted to write, he was starting a new career and coming here was completely breaking with his path. For his pride and his own soul, he needed to make a success of it without having someone open the door for him.”
A mix of feature stories eventually gave way to food, as Hayes pitched ideas on the reg, drawing in readers with aplomb.
Editors around the city noticed. Orlando Weekly first, then Orlando Magazine, where he served as the dining critic for 11 years.
Joseph Reed Hayes made a lasting impact in the realms of theater, music and food in Central Florida. This weekend, Orlando will remember him at a Celebration of Life at Timucua Arts Center. (Courtesy Brian Carlson)
It was around this time that he and Heather McPherson, longtime food editor and critic at the Sentinel, began crossing paths at media events, leading to a friendship both she and her late husband, artist Spencer Pettit, came to treasure.
“We shared so much in common,” she said of Hayes and Greenhill-Taylor, recalling one of the last times she hosted them for dinner.
“Spencer enjoyed writing and at the time was actually thinking about writing plays … and Joe was just encouraging him to move on with this idea.”
McPherson enjoyed the work of many contemporaries, but admired Hayes’ ability to pivot gracefully from one passion to another.
Joseph Reed Hayes, top left, and Jennifer Greenhill-Taylor, bottom right, with friends Jennie Hess and Walter Benjamin, enjoy the spoils of Edible Orlando’s Field to Feast, Long & Scott Farms in 2017. (Courtesy Pam Brandon)
“He was such a wordsmith, such a thoughtful writer. He loved food, but also theater and music. That he was interested in so much and grabbed hold of all of it with both hands… There was no half-measure with Joe. He just dove right in.”
Joseph Creech of Hunger Street Tacos was an admirer, as well.
“He was witty, and his work was well-thought-out and entertaining,” said Creech, who met Hayes after inviting him to dine at Hunger Street, “but what really made him special as a writer was that he cared really deeply about highlighting the things that blew him away. If he didn’t like something, he wouldn’t write about it. But, if he did, he was your best advocate.”
McPherson’s take is similar: “He had humor that could disarm you, but he was never harmful.”
Food writer Brooke Fehr met Hayes and Greenhill-Taylor in 2017.
“I became enchanted with them immediately because of their warmth and generosity,” says Fehr, who, a few years later, would be giving Hayes assignments for magazines including Orlando, where she was food and attractions editor from 2021-22.
Beyond “the breadth of his culinary knowledge,” Fehr was charmed by Hayes’ willingness to buck trends.
The foodie community is a small one; Joseph Reed Hayes was a big part of it. From left to right are Jeff Bray, Walt Disney World pastry chef Stefan Reimer, Polly Brandon and Joseph Reed Hayes. (Courtesy Pam Brandon)
“I’ll never forget a conversation we had at a media event where he expressed his disdain for truffles. It cracked me up, because here’s this thing that we’re all supposed to love, and he had no problem going against the tide. I loved that.”
As his editor, Fehr says Hayes was the consummate professional.
“I could tell him exactly what I needed, and that was exactly what I got,” she says, “…and though he had more experience, and many more years than I did with food, he still showed up in a way that made me feel valued as an editor.”
Much in the way the young Hayes thought he’d find footing in the kitchen, his early forays on the page were fiction-minded, even as his writing career took off in Orlando.
It was a chance session at the Atlantic Center for the Arts where a resident artist (Douglas Coupland, of “Generation X” fame) gave Hayes his two cents at the program’s close, noting his knack for dialogue.
It was a story Hayes told me on the night we met.
“You should be writing plays!” Coupland told him, and something clicked.
Hayes went from aspiring author to accomplished playwright in less than a year.
It was a story meant to encourage, for I had taken up painting, you see.
Barely anyone knew, but for some reason, I shared it with Hayes from the beginning.
His interest was palpable. By night’s end, he was my Coupland.
“You should do a show!” he told me.
I had a few other life changes to make first, but a couple of years later, at Austin’s Coffee, that day came.
Hayes and Greenhill-Taylor were the first faces through the door in support.
Longtime partners Jennifer Greenhill-Taylor and Joseph Reed Hayes dine al fresco at Lake Meadow Naturals farm dinner in 2017. (Courtesy Jennifer Greenhill-Taylor)
His words to so many — “Be audacious!” — graced our text thread on my first day at the Sentinel. They remain, scrawled on my fridge, to this day.
“Sometimes,” McPherson said, recalling that night at her Mount Dora home, “the people you need, the people who encourage you, are hiding in plain sight.”
Though plays were his focus in the last years of his life, McPherson says Hayes never truly stepped away from the table.
“It was part of who he was. And when you look now at the chefs who are celebrated, whether it’s James Beard or Michelin, Joe’s words had a lot to do with that. He made Central Florida’s table a better place to sit.”
Hayes’ final production in Orlando, a play called “If I Had My Way,” ran from June 16-20, 2022, at the Digital Adventure Theater inside the Orlando Science Center.
The Orlando Sentinel’s Palm called it “a fascinating mix of contemporary issues about class, race, circumstance and relationships against a uniquely Florida historical background. The fact that it takes place in a kitchen is not an accident.”
Food brings solace, goes the message in one scene. Food is love in another.
“I think it’s exactly what he felt when he cooked for anybody,” says Greenhill-Taylor.
“He was dealing in love.”
Want to reach out? Find me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com. For more fun, join the Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.
If you go
A Celebration of Life for Joseph Reed Hayes will be held at 1 p.m. Feb. 8 at Timucua Arts Foundation, 2000 S. Summerlin Ave. in Orlando. Those who knew him are invited to come and share food, drink, music and memories. The event will be livestreamed at youtube.com/timucua.