When people hear the term “culinary innovation,” they often picture high-tech gadgets or five-star restaurant menus. But for me, culinary innovation is about something more personal and valuable: finding new, meaningful ways to feed people well while also caring for the environment. Growing up in a low-income household, especially after Hurricane Katrina forced us to relocate, we had to make every ingredient stretch. My ma, who has been a chef all her life, could turn scraps and leftovers into meals that felt like home. That experience taught me early on that food can be both creative and powerful, especially when resources are limited. Now, as a culinary student at Johnson & Wales University and a future high school culinary teacher, I want to take those lessons and turn them into action. In the next five years, I plan to use culinary innovation to make a positive environmental impact by teaching sustainable cooking practices to young people, especially students from underserved communities and backgrounds. I want to show them how to think differently about food: how to use every part of an ingredient, how to reduce waste, and how to cook with seasonal, locally sourced produce. These small changes in the kitchen can add up to big changes for our environment. One of the key ways I’ll do this is by introducing students to zero-waste and low-impact cooking techniques. That might mean using vegetable scraps to make broth, repurposing stale bread into croutons or breadcrumbs, or turning fruit peels into syrups or teas. These are simple habits that not only stretch food budgets but also reduce landfill waste and carbon emissions. I also want to explore plant-forward recipe development with my students' meals that center vegetables and grains in ways that are still flavorful, filling, and culturally meaningful. Cutting back on some meats, such as cow or pork, even just occasionally, can reduce environmental strain without asking people to give up the foods they love. Through hands-on cooking, I’ll help students understand how sustainable eating can still reflect their identity and heritage. Beyond the classroom, I hope to work with local food banks, farms, and community organizations to give students real-world experience in sustainable food systems. I’d love to help develop community dinners or pop-up events where students can showcase their skills while raising awareness about food waste and climate-friendly cooking. Eventually, I’d like to create a digital space—maybe a website or YouTube channel—where I can share lesson plans, videos, and student recipes with a wider audience. That way, the impact goes beyond my classroom and reaches others who are eager to learn but don’t have access to culinary education. To me, culinary innovation isn’t about perfection or prestige. It’s about finding smart, creative ways to solve problems—and empowering others to do the same. Through food, I’ve found purpose, and now I want to use that purpose to make the world and the people in it a little healthier, more connected, and more sustainable.

Growing up, my family went through more challenges than I can count, but the one that changed everything was Hurricane Katrina. We lost everything. As a low-income Black family, we had no choice but to leave our home behind and start over in Michigan with nothing but each other. During that time, food became more than just something to eat—it became a symbol of survival and strength. That’s where my love for cooking really started. My mom, who eventually became a chef, was the heart of our home. Even with long hours and endless stress, she always found a way to make time in the kitchen. I can still remember the smells—spices, fresh vegetables, sizzling meats—and how comforting it felt. I would watch her cook and ask her questions, trying to learn as much as I could. She had this way of turning the simplest ingredients into something warm, filling, and full of love. For a while, I lost that spark. Life got harder. When I was just 14, we experienced homelessness twice. The second time, black mold took over our home, and we had to throw out almost everything. We were told to pack up and leave with just one day’s notice—right before the pandemic hit. It was a devastating time. But through all of it, two things kept me going: my family and my connection to food. I found my way back to cooking through my school’s SkillsUSA competition team. I practiced constantly—washing my hands, putting on my apron, and getting to work multiple times a day. I fell back in love with it. I loved seeing how my dishes improved over time, how flavors changed, how I could express myself through the food I made. It wasn’t just a competition—it was a turning point. At the state competition, I saw students from all over bringing their best to the table. That experience opened my eyes. I realized how important it is to give young people hands-on opportunities like that. Not every student gets that chance. Some never realize what they’re capable of because their school doesn’t have the right resources. I want to change that. My dream is to become a high school culinary teacher and give back to my community. I want to build a space where students can discover their talents, feel proud of their work, and learn real-world skills. Even if they don’t go into culinary careers, they’ll walk away with confidence, creativity, and the belief that they can do anything. I want them to know that success isn’t only about sitting in an office or getting a degree—it’s also about passion, persistence, and purpose. Going to culinary school is the next step toward that dream. This scholarship would help me keep moving forward and eventually use what I learn to give others the same inspiration and guidance that cooking has given me. Food has brought me healing, direction, and hope—and I want to pass that on to the next generation.

\Growing up, my family went through more challenges than I can count, but the one that changed everything was Hurricane Katrina. We lost everything. As a low-income Black family, we had no choice but to leave our home behind and start over in Michigan with nothing but each other. During that time, food became more than just something to eat—it became a symbol of survival and strength. That’s where my love for cooking started. My mom, who eventually became a chef, was the heart of our home. Even with long hours and endless stress, she always managed to find time in the kitchen. I can still remember the smells—spices, fresh vegetables, sizzling meats—and how comforting it felt. I would watch her cook and ask her questions, trying to learn as much as I could. She had this way of turning the simplest ingredients into something warm, filling, and full of love. For a while, I lost that spark. Life got harder. When I was just 14, we experienced homelessness twice. The second time, black mold took over our home, and we had to throw out almost everything. We were told to pack up and leave with just one day’s notice—right before the pandemic hit. It was a devastating time. But through all of it, two things kept me going: my family and my connection to food. I found my way back to cooking through my school’s SkillsUSA competition team. I practiced constantly—washing my hands, putting on my apron, and getting to work multiple times a day. I fell back in love with it. I loved seeing how my dishes improved over time, how flavors changed, and how I could express myself through the food I made. It wasn’t just a competition—it was a turning point. At the state competition, I saw students from all over bringing their best to the table. That experience opened my eyes. I realized how important it is to give young people hands-on opportunities like that. Not every student gets that chance. Some never realize what they’re capable of because their school doesn’t have the right resources. I want to change that. My dream is to become a high school culinary teacher and give back to my community. I want to build a space where students can discover their talents, feel proud of their work, and learn real-world skills. Even if they don’t go into culinary careers, they’ll walk away with confidence, creativity, and the belief that they can do anything. I want them to know that success isn’t only about sitting in an office or getting a degree—it’s also about passion, persistence, and purpose. Going to culinary school is the next step toward that dream. This scholarship would help me keep moving forward and eventually use what I learn to give others the same inspiration and guidance that cooking has given me. Food has brought me healing, direction, and hope—and I want to pass that on to the next generation.