Anais Rivera
I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, the oldest of two sisters. My parents are Puerto Rican, and in 2003, they decided to move us back to Puerto Rico. That’s where I really found myself in the kitchen. My mom and abuela—everything they made was from scratch. They cooked with so much love. It wasn’t just food; it was a way of keeping our culture alive.
By the time I got to culinary school, I knew this was it for me. Cooking felt like home. But even with that clarity, life has a way of testing you. I’ve been through some hard moments—a divorce, the earthquake that shook the island, even just the daily grind of running a kitchen. Still, every time I wanted to quit, I’d remind myself of the women I came from. My mom didn’t raise me to back down.
One of the moments that shaped me most wasn’t even about me. It was this guy who started at as a dishwasher. He had lost everything to drugs and didn’t say much at first—he just kept his head down and worked. He was quiet, but there was something in the way he paid attention to what was going on in the kitchen. You could tell he was trying to prove something, not just to us but to himself.
Eventually, I started showing him small things—how to chop, how to prep. At first, it was just to help him stay busy, but then he really started picking it up. He wanted to learn. I watched him start taking control of his life—he got help, he cleaned up, and little by little, he built himself back up.
Today, that guy is a sous chef. He’s a dad now, with a family and a home. And seeing him go through that transformation reminded me why I love what I do. It’s not just about the food; it’s about the people. Kitchens can be chaotic, but they can also heal. They gave me purpose when my life felt unstable, and they gave him a chance to start over.
Now, as a Chef and owner of @sweetfirehubpr , I try to pass that on. Not everyone’s going to walk out of here as a chef, but if they leave with a little more confidence or a reason to believe in themselves, I’ve done my job.