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some call me ahawkz

When I was dreaming of becoming a pastry chef in high school, I really had no idea what it meant to be a chef. All I knew was that everything made sense when I was covered in chocolate or caked in flour.

When I chose not to go to the Culinary Institute of America after high school, I found myself dreaming again – this time, during class in college. While I was earning a bachelor's degree in Environmental Studies at F&M, I couldn't help but conjure images of myself in chef whites.

I decided to stay in school, but on one condition: I was going to learn the ins and outs of the food industry, starting with the kitchen.

One day in late May after my sophomore year, I walked into the courtyard of Blue Hill at Stone Barns with my hair down, my naivety on my sleeve, ready for my first day as their pastry intern.

I haven't looked back since.