Two Dads, Two Pop-Ups, One Brick & Mortar

We didn’t follow a blueprint. We just couldn’t sit still. One day, it was late-night shifts in someone else’s kitchen; the next, it was dragging tables into a rented apartment and calling it Seven. Seven courses, seven chances to say something honest about food. There was no signage, no guarantees—just us, cooking like it mattered because it did.

We crossed paths in kitchens and saw each other working, grinding, creating. Respect grew. Friendship followed. We always said we’d build something together. When we started Siete, we did it out of love and because we trusted each other enough to share the stove and the vision. That chemistry stuck.

Pop-ups were a way to express our art freely. More than a period of exploration or a direct resistance to the traditional system, it was a need to create something of our own without taking on the full risk of a restaurant from the start. We took steps forward, guided by a clear vision of developing a solid product with strong branding and growth potential. It was also our departure from regular kitchens, a more direct path toward building our own space, one more aligned with what we truly wanted to share with the world.

The idea of ​​opening a permanent space was always there, hovering in the distance. But we didn’t force it. We wanted it to mean something. We didn’t want a restaurant just for the sake of having one. We wanted a home base for what we’d already started—a place with soul, where the food could continue to evolve, where we didn’t have to compromise.

Going from pop-ups to brick-and-mortar changed everything and nothing. Suddenly, you’re thinking about payroll, consistency, inventory, and the grind. But at the same time, we still wanted to cook the way we always had—raw, real, spontaneous. It was about scaling without selling out. We built @tobedetermined_miami from scratch ourselves. No safety net. No big money behind us. Just a lot of sweat, a shared dream, and a refusal to wait around for permission.

We don’t do strict roles. We move fluidly, depending on what the restaurant—and each other—needs that day. Not egos. Just alignment. Respect. A deep understanding that we’re building something bigger than both of us.

And now, something even bigger is on the horizon. We’re both about to become fathers. At the same time.

Fatherhood shifts everything. It forces you to reevaluate how you spend your time, how present you are, and what kind of example you’re setting. It’s possible to build a kitchen culture that allows us to be present at home, too, although we know it’s not easy and requires breaking with many of the inherited logic of this industry. 

There’s a deeply held idea that for a kitchen to work, you have to give up everything, including your personal life, and that’s something we want to challenge. We’re working to build a more human culture where the team can have rhythm, passion, and dedication, while also having time for themselves and being able to be at home. It’s not about lowering the bar but instead finding more sustainable ways to do so. Adjusting schedules, delegating, trusting more, and letting go of control when necessary. And also setting an example: showing ourselves as present cooks and parents without romanticizing the constant sacrifice. We know we won’t change everything overnight, but it can start from spaces like ours and inspire others to do the same.

TBD—To Be Determined—started as a joke, something we said while we were still figuring it all out. But it stuck. Because that’s exactly who we are. Evolving. Questioning. Never boxed in. We don’t believe in fixed definitions. We believe in movement. 

The menu changes every two weeks. The wines rotate. The vibe shifts with us. It’s not chaos—it’s intentional. It’s about creating an experience that feels alive, not templated. We want people to walk in and feel something. Curiosity. Comfort. Surprise.

What do we want this place to represent? That you can build something real without checking every traditional box. That you can lead with honesty, cook with feeling, and still make it work. That you don’t need a million dollars to build a restaurant with heart.

When our kids are older, we want them to look at this place and see proof that their dads built something from scratch. That we did it our way, with purpose and love. That we made room for both ambition and family. That we didn’t just dream—we did.

And we’re still doing it. Every damn day.

Photo credits to @oomsi.films