When Cooking Became His Lifeline

When I think about my childhood, I remember spending hours in the kitchen with my grandmother. She used to let me help her knead dough and taste sauces, explaining how every ingredient had its own story. The warmth, smells, and laughter we shared made me fall in love with cooking. It felt like magic, creating something that could bring people together.

 

Before I became a chef, I was going down a dark path. I didn’t know what direction my life was taking, and I didn’t like who I was becoming. One day, I decided to change everything. Cooking became my way out, a language I could use to say things I couldn’t express with words. Through food, I started to rebuild myself, piece by piece.

 

I didn’t attend a formal culinary school; instead, I learned most of what I know through practice and by working alongside inspiring chefs. Learning by doing has helped me develop intuition and creativity in the kitchen. My approach to cooking is rooted in curiosity and dedication. I’m always experimenting, learning, and finding joy in improvement. This journey has allowed me to reach a level where I can now create my own dishes.

 

When I first stepped into a professional kitchen at the age of twenty-two, I was working as a kitchen assistant in a small bistro. The sound of knives hitting the cutting board, the aroma of caramelizing onions, and the rush of incoming orders filled the air. Instead of feeling stressed, I experienced a deep sense of peace. In that moment, it felt as though the world finally made sense. That first kitchen taught me discipline, rhythm, and the importance of belonging to something greater than myself.

 

In the early days, I struggled with consistency. I wanted every dish to taste the same, to be perfect every time. It took years of repetition, patience, and obsession to understand that mastery isn’t about perfection but about persistence.

 

One moment that marked me forever came during a busy service. I made a mistake on a dish and expected to be shouted at. Instead, the chef looked at me calmly and said, “We don’t cook for our ego, we cook for the guest.” That sentence changed me. It shifted my focus from myself to the people across the table. It taught me that cooking is about care, not control.

 

My philosophy in the kitchen is to respect everything. Respect the ingredients, the farmers who grow them, the team that stands beside you, and the guest who trusts you with their meal. The kitchen is my temple, a place where chaos and beauty exist together. I believe in leading with calmness and kindness, showing by doing, and building trust through integrity.

 

There was a time in my life when I was lost again, when things outside the kitchen started to fall apart. But in the kitchen, I found my balance. My team became my family. The laughter during prep, the quiet nods of understanding during service, that sense of unity pulled me through. Cooking reminded me that no matter how heavy life gets, there’s always a way to create something beautiful from what’s in front of you.

 

One of my proudest moments was being trusted to lead a team during a hectic season. At first, I doubted myself. But when I saw my crew working smoothly, communicating, and creating magic together, I realized that leadership isn’t about authority; it’s about harmony. That night, I understood the true meaning of success: not being the best, but bringing out the best in others.

 

What I love most about this industry is the chaos. That tension and creativity that keeps you alive. I love how people from completely different backgrounds come together for the shared purpose of making someone happy through food. But some things still frustrate me, like investors who see restaurants as money machines rather than living, breathing spaces built on emotion. Too often, chefs are undervalued, their work treated as replaceable. I want that to change.

 

My vision for the future is more respect, more sustainability, more humanity. I want to see kitchens where creativity thrives in balance with well-being, where chefs are valued not only for their skill but for their spirit. I want a world where we care as much about the people behind the food as we do about the food itself.

 

Personally, I try to contribute by supporting local producers, working with a zero-waste mindset, and sharing my knowledge with younger cooks to promote a healthier and more ethical culinary culture.

 

Cooking has never been just a job for me. It’s how I speak, how I heal, how I give back. Every plate I send out is a story of who I was, who I am, and who I’m still becoming.