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Food became my language before I even realized it. Somewhere along the way, I understood that what I truly loved wasn’t just cooking, but creating something sincere and honest. Something made with intention, not just to sell or impress, but to make people feel good. 

 

I didn’t have a long corporate career before stepping into this path. During university, I interned in an HR department at a multinational company, which was my only experience in a traditional office setting. It didn’t take long for me to realize that kind of life wasn’t for me. Sitting behind a desk, following routines, felt limiting. I’ve always been someone who wants to build, to create, to see something grow from nothing.

 

At 22, right after graduating, I took a leap instead of applying for corporate jobs. I started my first F&B venture, @poketwins.my. It came from a very honest place. I cared about what I was eating, I was deeply into healthy food, and I wanted to create something that made people feel good, too. That was the beginning. I’m still running it today, alongside my second brand, @donabakehouse.

 

I’m entirely self-taught. That path came with challenges, but it shaped me in ways I wouldn’t trade. There was no structure, no one correcting me in real time. Every mistake became my teacher, and every failed batch became part of the process. I had to learn through observation, repetition, and failure. It forced me to slow down and really understand what I was doing, instead of just following instructions. That kind of learning builds something deeper. It teaches you discipline, resilience, and respect for the craft.

 

My first real kitchen wasn’t a traditional one. It was my own—a small, unorganized space with limited equipment, no systems, and a lot of uncertainty. Everything felt chaotic in the beginning. I was figuring out production, storage, costing, and consistency simultaneously. But building it from scratch taught me everything. I saw how disorder affects quality, and how structure changes everything. Over time, I turned that chaos into a system. Clear workflows, SOPs, and discipline. That transition shaped me. It taught me that growth isn’t given, it’s built.

 

One of my biggest challenges early on was being self-taught. I was slower, and I lost opportunities because I wasn’t “ready” yet. There were moments when I felt behind others with formal training. But over time, I realized going slow was actually what built my foundation stronger. When you’ve failed enough times, wasted ingredients, miscalculated production, and had to absorb the cost yourself, the lessons stay with you. You don’t forget them. Instead of rushing, I chose to understand deeply. That changed everything.

 

What keeps me going is the constant desire to be better than I was yesterday. I’ve never felt comfortable staying at one level. There’s always something to refine, whether it’s technique, leadership, or how I show up. At the same time, knowing that I can inspire someone else also drives me. When someone tells me they started baking because of something I shared, or when my team feels motivated by the way I work, it reminds me that leadership carries responsibility. That keeps me grounded and moving forward.

 

Some of the most defining moments in my journey weren’t successes, but failures. I remember days when the electricity would trip mid-bake, and everything had to start over. Standing there, exhausted, flour everywhere, no one to guide me, just deciding whether to try again the next day. Those moments stayed with me. They taught me resilience and respect for the craft in a way nothing else could. Growth often comes from the batches no one ever sees.

 

My philosophy in the kitchen is rooted in sincerity, discipline, and respect. Good food starts with intention. Not trends, not shortcuts. Details matter. Fermentation time matters. Training matters. If the foundation is strong, creativity will follow naturally. As a leader, I don’t believe in ego. I believe in responsibility. If I expect consistency, I have to model it. If I want my team to care, I have to show them why it matters. You build culture through your actions.

 

There were times when I felt deeply burned out, carrying the weight of running a business, managing people, and making decisions constantly. In those moments, I would return to the kitchen, not as a boss, but as a baker. Working with my hands, shaping dough, laminating, focusing on the process. It grounded me. The kitchen has a rhythm you can’t rush. That rhythm brought me back to myself. And being around the team, sharing small moments during prep, laughing, tasting things together, reminded me why I started.

 

One of the milestones I’m most proud of is when my work began to be recognized beyond my immediate space. Collaborating with global brands like Lacoste, Sulwhasoo, and Braun Buffel felt surreal. Not just because of the opportunity, but because it validated that my voice, my style, and my way of telling stories through food could stand on an international level. Coming from a small kitchen and building everything from scratch meant a lot.

 

What I love most about this industry is when there is real respect across every role. When everyone understands that each part matters, that’s when a space truly works. What frustrates me is how easy it has become to enter the industry without understanding the craft. Sometimes it becomes more about aesthetics and virality than quality and substance. That creates a culture driven by hype instead of intention.

 

In my own work, I focus on building structure, maintaining standards, and protecting the integrity of what we create. Proper technique, training, and systems matter. Not just how things look, but how they are made.

 

Looking ahead, I hope the industry returns to sincerity. I want to move back toward craft, consistency, and long-term trust instead of short-term attention. Food should feel good, not just look good. As for me, I contribute by building something honest. Sharing the process, the struggles, and the reality behind the scenes. Because when people understand the work behind the plate, they value it differently.

 

For me, it has always been the same. Create with intention, build with honesty, and never lose sight of why you started.