My first kitchen photos appeared in my phone gallery four and a half years ago. That was the beginning of my professional path. Coming into the kitchen at twenty-five? It felt late at least that’s what I thought. But I started, working with passion and curiosity. There were burns, cuts, and wounds. I couldn’t even use a knife properly. Yet within a couple of weeks, I felt the pieces falling into place. I was thrilled  I knew this was my way, and that I was here to stay.At the same time, I often felt late, as if everyone else was already ahead of me. I don’t know where those thoughts came from, but they gave me fuel to push forward. Within my first months in the kitchen, I decided to leave my hometown, Almaty, and move to St. Petersburg to learn and grow. Back then, I didn’t fully realize how lucky I was to become part of one of the city’s best kitchen teams. That experience gave me solid ground and laid the foundation of my development as a chef.

Later, I returned home for a while and took part in opening one of the most significant projects not only for the city, but for the whole country already as a sous chef. But for me, career titles were never the priority. What truly mattered was the dream of working in a Michelin-starred team. That dream kept driving me forward, and I knew it was possible.

Looking back now, I see what I already have: experience working in four countries, three years as a sous chef, and an internship in a 2-Michelin-starred restaurant in Seoul a milestone that wasn’t easy to reach. My motivation to grow pushed me to resign from my sous chef position in Dubai and set off on a journey through Asia, with one clear goal: to earn a place in a Michelin kitchen.

It wasn’t easy. I spent countless resources and energy, faced rejections, and received messages that went unanswered. In Shanghai, at a one-star restaurant of a famous European chef, they didn’t even want to speak with me. Still, I tried not to lose hope. I kept changing cities, countries, time zones sometimes without even having time to adjust.

By the time I reached Seoul, I was close to giving up. I thought: “That’s it. It didn’t work. Time to go back.” I was even ready to buy a ticket home. I told my friends I would probably return with nothing. At the last moment, I decided to walk into a two-star restaurant, expecting a rejection. I was sure of it.

I arrived in a heavy mood, with tears in my eyes. I pulled down the brim of my cap so people wouldn’t notice. In my head, the same thoughts kept repeating: “Why is this so hard? All I want is to move forward, to work, to improve my skills. Is this really impossible?” For half an hour I circled the restaurant, unable to step inside.

But then, everything changed. They gave me the opportunity I had dreamed of since my very first days in the kitchen. Walking out after that conversation with the chefs, I was probably the happiest person in the world at that moment. To be accepted for an internship in a 2-Michelin-starred team  wasn’t that a miracle?

That experience became the brightest and most important chapter of my career so far. I enjoyed every single minute: the teamwork, the flawless system, the way the chefs approached their craft. The atmosphere, even the air itself, felt different. I remember thinking during the first weeks: “Did I really make it this far? Am I really here, working alongside these incredible chefs?”

I grew, I learned, I became more confident. Of course, there were also hard times  stress, frustration, even despair. Sometimes I didn’t like what I saw, and I left. Sometimes I didn’t get what I expected, and I left. Sometimes the people weren’t right, and I left. But I always stayed true to myself, my ambitions, and my dream: to work in a team that values the profession as deeply as I do.

And through it all, I never stopped loving the kitchen. In fact, with every passing day, my love only grew stronger.

Kitchen one love. 🖤