Commencement Address

Stephen Durfee’s Remarks

President Tepper, members of the Board of Trustees, esteemed faculty, honored guests, friends and family — and most of all, the graduating class of 2026.

It’s such a tremendous honor to stand here before you today. I’m so grateful for the invitation and the opportunity to share this very special day…

And I get why you invited me, the Chocolate Guy, to be your guest speaker this morning…. Because graduation, after all, is such a bittersweet moment.

Your college graduation is a lot! It’s a big deal — a real “threshold moment”.

It’s liberating for everyone — exhilarating for many, anxiety-producing for others. Ready or not, here you come! And many of you may feel ready, and others may not.

That’s not a new phenomenon, by the way. Not something that’s unique to your generation. The good news — the thing worth knowing — is that you are far more ready than you might feel right now.

There’s a phrase that we use in the professional kitchen. Mise en place.

Mise en place describes the French culinary discipline of having everything in its place — measured before the work begins. Your ingredients prepped, tools ready, your station is clean. And it’s not just a kitchen concept — it’s a whole philosophy of intentional preparation. Even if you’re not exactly sure which dish you’re about to pick up, what the guest is going to order — your station is set. You prepped. Your knife is sharp. You know the recipe. So, bring it!

I had the opportunity to speak with a few of you just a couple of weeks ago. We met over Zoom, some representatives of the senior class, and we chatted about all kinds of things. But what stuck with me most was how much you talked about the joy that you found in sitting down for meals with your friends, the importance of sharing time together... Like you’d already thought it through. Like you’d already figured out what actually matters most in this world.

In the kitchen, we would say: “Your mise en place is tight.”

Graduation day at Hamilton, 1985, sitting right where you’re sitting, I felt like I was the exact opposite of Mise en place — my station was NOT set, I had no idea what was even on the menu….

My parents were both school teachers, and so I had grown up with the idea that I might also be a teacher. I was an American Studies major, so maybe English, maybe History. And sure enough, a few months after graduation, there I was — standing in front of a classroom at a boarding school, explaining concepts in geography to a group of high school freshmen.

So, you might be wondering — how did I wind up as a chef?

During high school and college, I had any number of summer jobs that were what you might describe as “kitchen-adjacent”. Hotdog cart, dishwasher, appetizer guy, breakfast cook at a summer dance camp…. I baked scones and shortbread cookies for a Scottish tearoom. And at Hamilton, for two full years, I was the “weekend steward” at the Chi Psi fraternity — I prepared all the meals for the brothers in exchange for my fraternity dues.

I liked food, there’s no question about that, and I liked to eat. But I most definitely did not anticipate a future as a chef.

After a few years of teaching, I migrated to New York City, considering graduate school. Instead, I found a job — totally random — as a private chef, making dinners each night for a busy family, in exchange for a small room to live in. Pretty much the same deal as the fraternity, when you think about it.

I had just moved to the city and I used to wander the neighborhoods, walking everywhere, just to get a sense of what New York was about. At the time, like any good Hamilton student, I was reading “The Sun Also Rises” — probably for the fourth or fifth time. In that story, people are always gathering at outdoor cafés, and I thought to myself — what would it be like to be one of those people?

One evening, I was walking down Third Avenue and I passed a restaurant called The Sign of the Dove, where there were tables spread out on the sidewalk, just like in the book. I didn’t have the money to eat at a restaurant like that — but I figured maybe I could afford a dessert. So, I sat down, and the server suggested: try the crème brûlée.

I had no idea what that was. I had never had a crème brûlée before. The server brought it out and said — take your spoon, and just... crack it across the top.

It was like magic. The way the caramelized sugar crust broke across the custard. I was absolutely blown away. And right then, I thought to myself — you know…. I don’t think I want to be a teacher — I want to be a pastry chef.

And here’s the thing — It wasn’t really about the eating. The dessert was delicious — but what got me was the whole experience. That's when it clicked.

Eating is good. But creating a memory….?

That’s awesome.

A few months later, while hunting through the Times classified section for an actual paying job, I saw an advertisement for a restaurant bread baker. Now — I’ll be honest. I had never baked a loaf of bread in my life. But I figured, what the heck. Shortbread is like…. bread. I needed a job, and so I applied.

On the way to the interview, I ducked into a shop on Madison Avenue and picked up a paperback copy of a book by James Beard, the Pioneer of American Cuisine, called “Beard on Bread.” I flipped through the pages while riding the subway, and I circled a few key terms.

Phrases like “yeast.”

And “gluten”

And drop those phrases I did. And the next thing you know, I was tying on an apron and baking bread in a New York City restaurant.

That’s the story. And the rest…. just followed organically.

You build as you go, one position leads to another — baking bread leads to baking cakes, then you’re making sauces and crème brulee and working with chocolate.

You meet people. You grow your network, your recipe book, your confidence.

I read everything I could find — cookbooks, of course, four newspapers every Wednesday, which was the day the food sections came out. I “staged” at restaurants all over town to see what other chefs were doing (that means I worked for free). I never really had any money, so I hardly ever ate out. But it didn’t really matter because I was almost always in a kitchen — which, to me, was even better than being in the dining room.

Just a few years in, I was invited to move across country to Napa Valley, California, to be part of the opening day team at The French Laundry restaurant. I worked every station in that kitchen, took on the role of pastry chef — and just a couple of years after that, I was named the Best Pastry Chef in America, bringing home an award named in honor of James Beard.

It’s tough to stand here today and tell you to follow your dream if you’re not even sure what your dream is. It took me a long time to realize that I had a genuine passion for cooking, and even then, I didn’t always know best how to pursue it. I worked as a restaurant chef for years, but then I left that to teach at culinary school, and now I work for a chocolate company. Those are three distinctly different careers, but they are all built on a love for creating and sharing something memorable.

When you find what you love — you’ve just got to go for it. Don’t feel like you have to be an expert to get started. You just have to take the first step. Dig in. Buy the book! Trust yourself to make the right call.

Not long into my baking life in New York, a chef I was working for sent me to an off-site event, where I was asked to prepare a single item from one of Julia Child’s books. I chose to make a bite-sized canapé called a gougère — essentially this is a salty, cheesy version of a cream puff.

I need to pause here and explain. Cream puffs are made from the most basic recipe in all of pastry —it’s called pâte à choux. Water, butter, flour, eggs…. It’s Day 1 of pastry school material. And yet from that single, humble base, you can make so many things!

Cream puffs, of course. But also eclairs. Profiteroles. Paris Brest, A magnificent croquembouche.

And if you take that same mixture, add salt and pepper and some chopped herbs and instead of baking it, you boil it in chicken broth — you get gnocchi.

And if you take that same mixture, pipe it in hot oil in a deep fryer, dust it with cinnamon sugar — you get churros or beignets.

The same ingredients, expressed in so many different ways, depending on what the situation calls for.

I brought my gougères to that event in New York City — which turned out to be an 80th birthday party for Julia Child herself. She was there! She came over to my station, popped one in her mouth, then another, and said — in that unmistakable voice:

“Ah, gougères. Simple. Elegant. Delicious.”

Can you even imagine — Julia Child. JC. And those three words — that any chef would tell you are about as great an award as you could ever wish for.

I share this story today because to me it represents the beauty of connectedness. Of a liberal arts approach to the world.

You didn’t come to this college to study one thing. You studied everything — philosophy, literature, music, science, history, art. It’s your pâte à choux. From the versatility of that foundation, you can make almost anything. The specific shape your life takes is entirely up to you….,

But the basic recipe (tap your heart) is already there.

That’s the story arc, by the way — hotdog cart / Hamilton / The French Laundry…

So now comes the time when you need to share all that preparation with the rest of the world.

And in the restaurant business, we call that moment, Service

Not “the dinner rush.” Not “hours of operation.” Service. And I love that phrase, because it puts everything into context…

Your life and your work in the world…. It’s more than a shift. It’s a commitment — to the rest of your team, to your community, and to the people on the other side of the door.

And I don’t just mean in a restaurant. Service isn’t a profession. It’s a mindset. It’s the way you choose to stand in relation to the rest of the world — in whatever room you find yourself, whatever work you choose, whatever community you wind up in.

And it’s an incredibly special feeling — because, and you have to believe me here — there is no greater gift in this world than to be put in the position to serve others. And I can say this with confidence, because I get to live it every day. You set a table, you open your doors to the world. You get your hands dirty, and you get to work.

I know you’ve heard it before and in your heart you know it to be true, that “it is more blessed to give, than to receive” …. (that would be the other JC)

Today, I’m going to leave you with a metaphorical taste of chocolate, the best food in the world — and, one of the most diverse!

All chocolate starts with cocoa beans, which come from origins all over the world. And they’re all different, depending on where they grow — each one is unique, each one special in its own way, each one contributes something profound to the finished product.

To properly appreciate flavor, you can’t simply have a little nibble that won’t reveal anything about character.... but at the same time, you can’t just gobble it all down — you need to take a bite — take a real bite — then wait, and allow it to melt in your mouth, allow it to soften, until the full flavor comes to you. Be present enough, and patient enough, to let the thing you’re holding actually reveal itself.

Any chef will tell you — you gotta taste everything as you go.

So now, Friends…. Please, go make and share something delicious.

The world — is hungry.