Like many people, I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to do when I got to college. I waited until the year’s last minute to declare a major. Somehow, I still managed to graduate on time (shout out to brutal summer and winter courses).

Ten years later, I’ve never worked a day in the field I studied. And honestly? That doesn’t surprise me. What surprised me was that I knew what I wanted to do all along. As a little girl, I had a dream — one I talked myself out of before giving it a real chance.

I was born in New York City. At first, the city overwhelmed me. But eventually, chaos helped shape who I am — an extrovert with a big personality, a love for people, and always needing to move.

School was tough. Not because I didn’t care, but because I wanted to skip to the part where “real life” begins. I didn’t know how to get there or what that meant.

As kids, we dream freely. But somewhere along the line, we (or someone else) tell ourselves those dreams aren’t realistic. We believe them. We move on.

When I was little, I loved that my dad was a chef. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. While other kids watched SpongeBob, I flipped through the Food Network. I was obsessed with Rachael Ray, Giada, Ina Garten, and many others. Food felt like magic. But for some reason, I told myself being a chef wasn’t for me. Maybe it wasn’t practical. Perhaps I was scared. So I shut the door on that dream. Just like that.

Over the years, I tried everything — music, marketing, photography, teaching. Each path held something new. But nothing felt quite right. Something was still missing. Then one night, I was watching Chef’s Table — not thinking much of it — and saw the story of a woman who left a completely different field in her 20s, started a supper club in her 30s, and eventually opened a restaurant in London. Something clicked. That old dream — one I’d buried—sparked back to life. And I told myself: just try.

So I did.

I hosted a supper club for four people in my apartment. One night. One table. And somehow, that night turned into a whole six-course dining experience in a cafe in Fort Lauderdale, feeding 40 to 60 people at a time. And I’ve carried that dream with me to Seoul, South Korea.

This past year, I’ve gotten to work in different kitchens in Korea and kept that supper club fire alive. It’s not the path I imagined, but it’s the one that feels right. I don’t regret how long it took me or the different roads I had to take. 

But if I could go back and tell my 8-year-old self one thing, it would be this: “You were right. Let’s just try.”

So if you’re reading this and you feel that quiet pull toward something new—something different that scares you a little — I hope you listen to it. I hope you permit yourself to start small, be unsure, and try anyway. 

Because what matters most isn’t when you start — you do it. I don’t know if I’ll be in this field forever, but I knew I owed it to myself to try.

So here I am.