The clock is barely past 7 a.m. on a Monday, and Chef Elizabeth Hoiles-Menzel is wheeling a shopping cart already partially filled with organic carrots, beets and potatoes around the produce department at Wild Oats. In her plain black cotton top, black pants and Birkenstocks (a favorite among on-their-feet-all-day cooks for their comfort and support), and with her wild tumble of cinnamon curls pulled back in a twist, she looks like a rubenesque Helena Bonham-Carter. But unlike that winsome actress, it's doubtful you've ever heard of Chef Elizabeth. She doesn't have a cooking show on the Food Network, an eponymous restaurant in a Strip resort or a line of frozen foods at your local supermarket. Nonetheless, she's one of the city's top toques. And she could be cooking for you.

Four years ago, after sautéing her way up the line in some of the city's most prestigious kitchens—including Andre's French Restaurant in Downtown and a nine-year stint as assistant chef at Shadow Creek Golf Course (where she cooked for the likes of Clint Eastwood, Michael Jordan, former President Bush and the King of Malaysia)—she traded the professional kitchen for the private sector, starting Elizabeth's Personal Chef Service with a specialty in medicinal diets. Her inspiration came when she got to know the personal chef of "junk bond king" and prostate cancer surviver Michael Milken at charity fund-raisers at Shadow Creek. "I saw the positive impact she had on his life when he'd been told he wasn't going to make it," she says. "Now it's years later, and he's doing OK."

Today, Elizabeth is shopping for two of her regular clients, an entrepreneurial couple who have an expansive east-side estate and considerable health issues, hence the organic food. She reviews her shopping list, periodically pushing an unruly curl out of her face, and makes for the meat counter.

"Hi, Kim! How are you?" she greets the assistant butcher. She asks for a dozen skinless, boneless chicken breasts and six pounds of pork tenderloin. They chat amiably as Kim weighs the meat. "I took off the weight of the bag," Kim tells her, wrapping everything up. "Anything else?"

Not today. Though she needs fish, the gray sole in the case isn't to her liking. Ditto for the bagged arugula, which she pronounces "too tired." And there's no fresh organic corn. This could be a problem as she's got a corn and tomato salad on this week's menu. She immediately starts mulling substitutions. Still, there are two more grocery stops on this morning's itinerary, so perhaps she'll find fresh corn yet. But before leaving, she grabs a few bags of frozen. Just in case.

In the parking lot, she pops up the back of her Subaru Forester and separates the groceries—meats in one cooler, produce in another—demonstrating the attention to detail that helped land her the food editor role for Sarah Lee Marks' forthcoming Reservations Required: Culinary Secrets of Las Vegas' Celebrity Chefs. "I like to keep everything separate," she explains. "If there's leakage, I'm not concerned about it getting on the fresh produce."

Next stop is Whole Foods, the new gourmet Mecca that sprung up last year like an organic Zabar's on West Charleston. The produce section smells deliciously of fresh basil, and Elizabeth meanders around until she spies some organic green beans. But the bagged salads still prove elusive. As does the fresh corn. One of the produce stockers tells her they don't carry it. "I've bought it here before," she insists. Well, not today.

The last stop is Trader Joe's off Summerlin Parkway, where she makes a beeline for the refrigerated salads case and immediately starts excavating. "I'd rather dig in the back and get the stuff that just got here," she says from deep inside the case. "See? There!" she exclaims as she triumphantly fishes out several bags of arugula and romaine that finally pass muster. But alas, the fresh organic corn is not to be. "They had some last week," she sighs. Good thing she thought to get the frozen. "You gotta back it up," she says. Even so, she'll return to Wild Oats just to be sure she didn't miss it. "I told my clients I'd get fresh, and I want to try to do that."

It used to be the luxury of having a personal chef belonged strictly to the "Bentley and butler" set. You expect Oprah to have a chef. But the doctor across the street? The soccer mom around the corner? You bet your sweet tomatoes. These days anyone with the desire to eat something besides Happy Meals—but who are too time-strapped or culinarily clueless to cook themselves—can hire a personal chef to whip up nutritious ready-to-eat meals for them...