From Stage Lights to Stove Heat
Humans Of The Kitchen
The dancer who traded choreography for cuisine, carrying rhythm and presence into every dish.
Aurora Emilia Despradel Casilla
I grew up in a small town called Miracielo, in the south of the Dominican Republic. A dry coastal region crossed by rivers, where everything feels touched by ancestry. Our road trips to buy ingredients felt like mini adventures. I remember the fishermen calling out the catch of the day, the farmers selling plantains from the back of their trucks, the women who woke up before the sun to make sweets that tasted like tradition. Food there is a story of roots, community, and memory.
But the heart of it all was my grandmother, Carmen. She taught me what love tastes like. Her cooking is simple, balanced, and complete with care. The way she moves in the kitchen is pure intuition and heart. Everything I know about flavor, respect, and patience started in her hands.
Before cooking, my whole life was dance. I was a professional dancer from the time I was seventeen. Ballet, contemporary, theater stages, music videos, and award shows. Dance gave me rhythm, discipline, performance, and the courage to take up space. Those things still live in every dish I make.
But when I wanted to study culinary arts, there were no proper programs on the Island. So I studied Hotel Management first to access the culinary courses within it. At the time, it felt like a detour, but today I see how valuable it was. It gave me business structure, planning, and leadership. The Basque Culinary Center came later, after many sacrifices. That is where I refined my technique and learned to see ingredients with new eyes.
My first stage happened because of a ceviche. I tasted it and it completely stopped me. It was made by a Dominican chef who had lived in Peru and worked for many years with a Japanese chef. The respect and precision behind that dish changed everything for me. I went back to that restaurant again and again until they finally let me stage with them. I saw the chaos of service, the pressure, the sacrifices, the exhaustion, the adrenaline, and I thought, “This is insane, but I love it.”
Then came Europe. A small-town island girl, with almost no experience, inside a three-Michelin-star kitchen. I felt like I was constantly climbing a mountain with no rest. I questioned myself endlessly. I felt alone more times than I can count. I cried a lot. But I stayed even when my hands were shaking, even when my voice was small, even when I doubted everything. I stayed because my dream was bigger than my fear.
A day that marked me forever in the kitchen was in the middle of a hard shift, when the chef handed me a chocolate-and-rosemary dessert. The flavor stopped me completely. It was strange, beautiful, and emotional. That bite changed my relationship with herbs forever. It reminded me that food is not just about taste. It is memory. It is feeling. It is storytelling.
Today, my philosophy in the kitchen is that food is love, so I cook with plenty of it. I come from kitchens where kindness was rare, where mental health was not a conversation, where you were expected to break yourself in order to be great. So I chose a different path. I lead with respect, with patience, with humanity. I want my dishes to be beautiful, but I want my team to feel safe, supported, and seen. I do not rush their growth. I protect their joy. I want excellence without cruelty.
Being a brown, immigrant woman in European fine dining often left me standing alone. I felt I had to prove myself twice to be seen once. But I also found people who held me up when I needed it. Some of those people are now my family.
I love that through food and restaurant culture, I can reach people I might never have met otherwise. I love giving love, attention, and care to people I don’t even know, and being part of their special moments is such a beautiful feeling. But there’s still so much to work on in this industry. Like many others, it’s a world where people burn out, where health often takes a back seat to success. I understand that greatness requires sacrifice, but I believe we can reach a point where we don’t have to destroy ourselves to create something amazing.
I wish the industry were more gentle and accepting of diversity. I want to see more women leading kitchens, more diverse chefs creating and being celebrated. I was often the first brown woman in the spaces I worked in, and I don’t want to be the last. I want to see diversity not just in kitchens, but in the food we serve and the stories we tell through our menus.
I want to see more kindness. The idea that you have to be mean and harsh to be a good chef doesn’t inspire me. As a leader, I try to be strong, disciplined, and hold high standards, but also kind, nurturing, and healing for my team. I want to build teams that grow, not burn out.
There was a time when I ended up in the ER every two weeks because I was exhausted and not taking care of my body or mind. We give everything to this craft. I wish the craft gave a little more back.
Photo credits to @luierre
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
I am currently experimenting with fermentations. I wasn’t a big fan of it, but lately I want layers and complexity in my flavors.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
TACO BELL.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
It’s not that I hate it, but if an ingredient is fabulous in its natural state, why change it into a sphere?
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen?
22-hour shifts.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I don’t know how I managed to get through it. I was just very happy and excited to be able to do that event; it was magical.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
Prioritize your well-being; if we all do it, the industry will be forced to change the way it operates.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Tayota or chayote, it’s my favorite ingredient. I feel like I was the only one using it in my country for a while.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
My sauces overall are so so good. Any sauce that comes out of my kitchen is pretty tasty and punchy.
About Your City!
Dominican Republic
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
For breakfast, I would take him to Barra Payán, a very famous sandwich shop, so that he could have a typical Dominican street-food breakfast. Then I would take him to Playa Najayo to eat fried fish, Johnny cakes, and rice with pigeon peas. And finally, for dinner, to Joa Pica Pollo, a popular place that serves Dominican-style fried chicken.
Lessons from the Wild
Humans Of The Kitchen
From Kenya’s nature to one small kitchen where big dreams began.
Jeremiah Kioko Kimweli
I grew up in a home where the kitchen was the center of everything. We were three kids, and my mom worked long hours, so she always made sure there were ingredients ready for my older brother to cook. But I always found myself stepping forward, asking him to let me try. The dish I loved most was Pilau ya Nyama. Back then, I just called it that, but today, as a chef, I’d call it Spicy Beef Pilaf. Usually eaten with a banana on the side, that dish is one of my favorite Swahili dishes to date.
I didn’t start in a big kitchen. I started in a small mini mart where we had just one stove to make tea and lunch. I used to offer to cook for everyone. My colleagues joked, “wewe ni mpishi,” which means “You’re a good chef,” and it stuck with me. They didn’t know it, but those lunches were the beginning of everything. That’s where I learned that food brings people together.
I went to Karen Technical Training Institute for the Deaf. I was a hearing student studying among deaf students. That experience shaped the way I communicate. I learned that leadership begins with listening. During our practicals, we would work in teams, present, and be done. But one lecturer would always tell me to stay behind and make one dish again by myself. At the time, I didn’t understand why. Now I know she saw dedication before I even understood the word. May God bless her for that.
My first real kitchen was at Karen Country Club, a private members’ golf club in Nairobi. I was fresh out of culinary school, nervous, curious, and eager to prove myself. The place had elegance, discipline, and silence that said everything. I started with the smallest jobs. Cutting. Peeling. Watching. There is a certain humility required to stand at the edge of the pass and study how food becomes memory. That kitchen gave me foundation and patience.
A moment that shaped me most was in Tsavo West National Park, a Luxurious Camp Hotel. My executive chef, Chef Ken, taught me how to respect ingredients. Real respect. Not just technique. Respect for where flavor begins. He trained me station by station, side by side. We grew herbs in the back garden and harvested them ourselves. He showed me how food can connect land, hands, and soul. Until now, he has been my mentor.
The early challenges were physical and emotional. Long shifts, heavy prep, the pressure of banquets. My body wasn’t ready. My mind wasn’t prepared. But passion has its own stamina, and I learned to adapt. I reminded myself that I was here for a reason. My parents reminded me too. My dad always says I took the road he wished he could walk. So I walk it for him too.
I used to be quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet. Being introverted in a loud environment is not easy. But a friend of mine, Chef Kilote, told me something that changed everything: “Get your basics right. Practice. Learn flavor. Let the work speak.” So we sharpened our skills until confidence became muscle memory. Until our silence spoke for us.
Working at Chophouse was a milestone. Not just the food, but the leadership as well. Menu development, art on a plate, and the joy of showing the world what we can do through photography and storytelling. It proved that creativity is meant to be shared. That food is also a voice.
There is so much I love about kitchen culture: The brotherhood, the drive, the discipline, the joy of creating something that didn’t exist that morning. But I’ve also seen what needs to change, like low wages, burnout, gatekeeping, and the fear of letting new voices rise. I want kitchens to become more human, more inclusive, and definitely more intentional.
I use my platform to tell real stories, mentor young cooks, and lead with empathy. I want to build teams that feel seen. I want to create spaces where every hand in the kitchen matters. My goal is to help develop a culinary world that values both people and creativity.
Let kitchens be places where chefs grow, not break. Where people are paid fairly and leadership is not about ego, but about guidance. Where creativity is not owned, but shared.
📸 Credits to @victar_wahome, @pauline_ciqu & @g_a_c_h_e_r_u
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Fermented cassava flour, used in traditional dishes like kimanga and some versions of mukimo, was the most unexpected ingredient I’ve worked with. Its sour, earthy flavor challenged me at first, but it taught me to embrace complexity and cultural depth. It shifted my perspective from chasing polished perfection to honoring tradition and transformation in cooking.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Kuku and chips, crispy fries, and chicken wings. It’s simple, satisfying, and always hits the spot after a long shift. No fancy plating, just pure comfort and flavor.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
I’m not a fan of food trends that prioritize gimmicks over flavor, like rainbow dishes or gold leaf. They often distract from the real story and the food’s taste. I believe good cooking should connect, not just impress.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen?
It was a lunch shift, we were short-staffed, and the bookings were crazy. The good thing is that mise en place was on check, so it was just execution and sending the food. It was messy since I worked in like three sections. It was fun in chaos.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
We usually open the shift with two chefs; this time, we told the interns who joined us to take a day off, not knowing whether bookings and walk-ins would surge. I got through it by staying calm, prioritizing tasks fast, and leaning on clear communication. We pulled together and somehow made it work. That shift reminded me how much resilience and teamwork matter in the kitchen.
6. What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
To navigate a culinary career and stay grounded, lead with empathy, learn the business side, stay curious, protect your peace, build your brand, ask for help, and always remember why you started. These habits help you grow and find balance amid the chaos.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Amaranth leaves (terere). Often seen as a basic side dish, they’re actually nutrient-dense, flavorful, and incredibly versatile. When sautéed with garlic and a touch of acidity, they shine. But they also work beautifully in dumpling fillings, green sauces, or even folded into pasta dough for a vibrant color and earthy taste. Terere proves that humble greens can be gourmet.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Tofu.
About Your City!
Kenya
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
- Breakfast: Start with Kenyan tea, sweet potatoes, or mandazi in Westlands or at a farm-to-table spot like Cultiva.
- Morning: Visit City Market or Gikomba for fresh produce and street snacks like mutura and grilled maize.
- Lunch: Try Mama Rocks for gourmet burgers or Ranalo Foods for classic Kenyan dishes like ugali and tilapia.
- Afternoon: Explore local art at GoDown or the museum, then grab coffee at Artcaffe or Spring Valley.
- Evening: Enjoy cocktails at Hero Bar or chill at The Alchemist with music and street food.
- Dinner: Dine at Nyama Mama, Talisman, or INTI for elevated Kenyan cuisine.
From Runways to Recipe Books
Humans Of The Kitchen
While others chased lights and cameras, she chased flavors and textures.
Margarita Kallas-Lee
I grew up between kitchens. My grandfather was a chef in Kyiv, and my grandmother ran a kitchen in Latvia. My great-grandmother’s Ukrainian dacha featured a vegetable garden and had berry bushes scattered throughout her property. I remember helping her harvest garlic, which she used to make her incredible tomato-and-onion salad. These meals brought us together, and that was what made them so special.
At thirteen, I began modeling. I spent years traveling and working, but what stayed constant was the quiet joy I found in pastry. I would read cookbooks in hotel rooms and bring sweets to friends at school. Eventually, I started choosing kitchens over castings. I traded runways for prep tables and never looked back.
I almost enrolled in culinary school in New York while modeling, but Phillip, now my husband, convinced me to invest not in tuition, but in kitchens. It was the best decision I could have made. I staged with people who inspired me and learned through repetition, patience, and obsession.
When we moved to Chicago, I stepped into my first real restaurant kitchen. The pastry prep room was tiny. Everyone moved with purpose. It was intimidating and felt very much like the first day of middle school. But I showed up. I kept showing up. That became a turning point in my life.
What inspires me most has never changed. When I am cooking, I am inspired. Ideas come easily to me when I am in motion. Tough times never took that from me. In fact, the more challenging moments have brought me closer to my food. I create my best work when everything else is loud and I need to return to myself in the kitchen.
One moment that marked me was the development of my sourdough. It took a year to make a version that felt promising and nine years to make one that I was pleased with. That bread tells you everything about who I am. I do not give up. Ever.
My philosophy is built on intention. Desserts should feel personal, precise, and unforgettable. Every flavor should be placed with purpose. I create dishes from scratch, refine slowly, and edit until each bite tells a clear story. Leadership works the same way. In our kitchens, communication sets the tone. I want to see people grow not only as cooks, but as humans. I guide with expectation and with care.
When we went through incredibly difficult periods, it was our team that carried us. One of my pastry cooks has been with me for ten years. That is not staff. That is family.
The night we earned two Michelin stars, one for Pasta|Bar LA and one for Sushi by Scratch Restaurants: Montecito, was surreal. I was three months pregnant. After years of sacrifice, risk, and faith in our craft, that acknowledgment felt like a deep breath. It validated our belief that excellence and humanity can coexist.
I love the craft, the teamwork, and the moments when a guest’s face says, “This is special.” We’re working to be the change we want to see. At Scratch Restaurants Group, Phillip and I offer benefits many entry-level cooks and dishwashers rarely see: health insurance, a 401(k), and paid parental leave. We prioritize the team because great hospitality starts with taking care of our people. When teams feel safe, supported, and respected, food and service quality improve, turnover decreases, and the industry becomes more sustainable. That’s the future we want to build.
We want an industry where great hospitality equals great workplaces. As Phillip and I focus on making this change in the industry, we hope it translates into all restaurant groups and industry employees, who are the driving force behind restaurant success.
Credits to @sarahblockphoto for the first 3 photos.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Uni. I developed a white-chocolate bonbon with an uni ganache by freeze-drying the roe and folding the powder into the ganache. It sounds outrageous, but the result was clean, savory-sweet, and deeply aromatic; not fishy or odd. That success flipped a switch for me: if uni can sing in a dessert, then the boundaries are endless. It pushed me to treat “savory” ingredients as tools for balance, umami for depth, and salinity for lift, and to question every assumption about what belongs in pastry.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
LAY’S® Limón Flavored Potato Chips
- A food trend that you hate and why?
I don’t hate trends. I worry they sometimes flatten creativity. Chasing an imagined “industry standard” can make plates look the same, especially when people think Michelin requires a specific style of plating. It doesn’t. Cook your point of view. Plate with intention, not imitation. Authenticity reads louder than trends.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
When we opened Pasta|Bar Austin, I was 39 weeks pregnant.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Mid-service, a cook asked if I was okay because my ankles were literally purple. I hadn’t noticed. I was so locked in. I sat on a milk crate for two minutes, took a breath, and then finished service. It was intense, a little crazy, and oddly beautiful. We had a tight crew, and guests were having a great night. That shift reminded me how far passion and a supportive team can carry you, and how important it is to listen to your body too.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
Discipline is everything. Show up ready to grow because it keeps you sharp, focused, and evolving. Lead well. Your communication sets the tone, so build a supportive, inspiring, respectful kitchen. You also should take notes because you won’t remember every detail, and today’s notes become tomorrow’s systems. Ask why. Curiosity accelerates mastery, deepening your understanding of techniques, flavors, and processes. And protect your mindset. Energy is contagious, so a steady, positive attitude can calm chaos and lift the whole team, especially on tough days.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Oxtail, I rarely see it on menus. It is not only good for you, but there is so much you can do with it.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
My sourdough. It’s one of the first things on the menu at Pasta|Bar in Austin and Los Angeles. We serve it with my housemade cultured butter and high-grade olive oil. The sourdough starter is 59 years old, and I’ve nurtured it since we opened our first restaurant 13 years ago. I take pride in my sourdough, which I feel I’ve finally perfected after nine years of tinkering. It’s personal, and it sets the tone for the whole experience.
About Your City!
Austin
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
Have pastries at Abbey Jane in Dripping Springs. Have lunch at Sushi YUME. Pizza as a little snack before dinner at All Day. For dinner, go to Roccos, followed by after-dinner drinks at Strangelove.
Cooking for a Nation
Humans Of The Kitchen
His dream is to represent Azerbaijan to the world without losing himself.
Mammad Mammadov
Mammad Mammadov
I believe cooking chooses you. For me, the fire began quietly, not from one single moment, but from the feeling that I was meant to create something meaningful. The kitchen became the place where I could express who I am without speaking. When things get hard, I remind myself why I started in the first place: I want to become one of the best chefs from Azerbaijan. Passion, focus, and patience have guided me every step of the way.
When I look back at my childhood, I realize my love for cooking began in my grandmother’s kitchen. She prepared every meal with love, filling the house with delicious aromas that made everyone gather around. I used to watch her hands while she kneaded dough, completely fascinated by her calmness and precision. That’s when I understood that food isn’t just for eating, it nourishes the soul too. The warmth, the smells, and the peace of those moments still inspire me today.
Before becoming a chef, I worked in a few different jobs that had nothing to do with cooking. They taught me discipline and responsibility, but they never gave me the same sense of purpose I felt in the kitchen. That contrast helped me see clearly: Cooking wasn’t just my job, it was my voice, the way I express who I am.
I didn’t go to culinary school. Everything I know came from experience, hard work, and curiosity. I learned by doing, by watching other chefs, experimenting, and repeating. That made me creative and adaptable. I don’t just follow recipes; I trust my instincts and cook with emotion. Every dish I make carries a part of my story.
The first time I stepped into a real restaurant kitchen, I’ll never forget it. The heat, the speed, the sound of knives and voices calling orders — it was chaos, but to me, it felt like music. I was nervous but excited, because I knew I had found where I belonged. That day taught me that the kitchen is built on passion, teamwork, and discipline. A place where you earn respect through effort.
In the beginning, my biggest challenges were the pressure, long hours, and constant demand for perfection. I burned dishes, made mistakes, and sometimes felt like giving up. But each failure became a lesson. I learned to breathe, to stay calm, and to listen. Over time, I built confidence and transformed frustration into motivation. Those early years taught me patience, focus, and resilience, the true ingredients of success.
My older brother was the one who opened the door to this world for me. He showed me the discipline behind the craft and the importance of humility. His guidance taught me to never stop learning and to respect every part of the process, from peeling an onion to plating a dish.
There was also a time in my life when I was struggling mentally and emotionally. The kitchen became my therapy. It gave me structure when everything else felt uncertain. Cooking allowed me to turn chaos into creation. Sharing food with my team and guests reminded me that I wasn’t alone. That sense of connection healed me in ways words never could. Cooking saved me, it gave me purpose again.
One moment that marked me forever was when my mentor tasted a dish I had created myself. He smiled and said, “Now you’re cooking from the heart.” That simple sentence changed everything. It made me realize that being a chef is not just about technique, it’s about emotion, passion, and soul. From that day, I stopped trying to impress and started to truly express.
Over the years, I grew from a kitchen helper to a cook, and eventually to a chef who leads others. For me, being a chef is not only about cooking well, it’s about guiding, teaching, and inspiring. In my kitchen, unity and communication are everything. When one person rises, we all rise.
My philosophy is simple: cook with heart, lead with respect, and never stop learning. Every ingredient has a story, and every dish deserves intention. Leadership, to me, means building an environment where people grow together. Food should reflect honesty and balance, just like life.
One of the proudest moments of my career was becoming the head chef of a professional kitchen. Standing there, watching my team move in perfect rhythm, I realized how far I had come, from a dishwasher to a leader. Another milestone that meant everything to me was hearing people say they could “feel” my personality in my food. That’s the kind of recognition that matters most, not fame, but connection.
What I love most about restaurant culture is the rhythm: The teamwork, creativity, and energy that flows during service. But what frustrates me is how often balance and respect are missing. Too many chefs burn out because of stress or toxic leadership. I want to be part of a change, to build kitchens where passion and respect coexist. A good kitchen, in my view, is one where people grow, not just survive. The future of this industry must be built on empathy, teamwork, and mental strength, as much as skill and flavor.
My hope for the future of food is that it becomes more sustainable, honest, and human. I want chefs to focus more on real flavor, local ingredients, and health, not just trends. Through my projects, like Greenlife and Paradise Chocolate, I promote clean, high-quality food made with care. I want to inspire others to cook with purpose and heart, to create food that nourishes both body and soul.
There’s one thing about my story that people often miss: I didn’t just become a chef; I fought for it. I’ve been through war, pain, and rebuilding myself from zero. Cooking gave me peace when nothing else did. Every meal I create carries that strength, a reminder that love, discipline, and fire can turn any struggle into something beautiful.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
The most unexpected ingredient I’ve ever worked with was fermented garlic honey. At first, I wasn’t sure how it would fit in my dishes, but it completely changed how I think about balance: Sweet, sour, umami, all in one bite. It taught me that real creativity comes when you stop fearing mistakes.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
My guilty pleasure? Honestly, a simple homemade burger with crispy fries at 2 a.m. after a long shift. No fancy plating, just real flavor. Sometimes, the simplest food gives the most comfort.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
One food trend I can’t stand is over-decorated “Instagram food”. Dishes that look perfect but have no soul. Food should be about taste and emotion, not just likes and filters. I believe a real chef cooks for people, not for photos.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
The craziest shift I ever had was during a full restaurant service when two cooks didn’t show up. I had to manage the line, the grill, and the pass, all at once. Plates flying, orders piling up, chaos. But I stayed focused, stayed calm, and turned that fire into rhythm. By the end, I was exhausted but proud. That night taught me that pressure doesn’t break you, it shapes you.
5. What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
My advice to other chefs: stay hungry, but stay human. Respect the kitchen, respect your team, and never let ego be louder than passion. Learn every day, take care of your body and mind, and remember: Cooking isn’t about perfection, it’s about connection. The fire in the kitchen can burn you or light your way. It depends on how you use it.
6. What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
One lesser-known ingredient I truly respect is sumac. It’s common in Middle Eastern cuisine but still underrated globally. Its tangy, citrus-like flavor brings life to any dish — meat, salad, even sauces. For me, sumac represents balance; a reminder that even a small touch can completely transform the taste and energy of food.
- What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
The dish I’m most proud of is my herb-marinated grilled chicken with roasted vegetables and garlic-yogurt sauce. It’s simple but full of depth — healthy, flavorful, and true to who I am. I’ve served it to hundreds of people, and each time, I feel proud because it represents my philosophy: clean food, strong flavor, honest cooking.
About Your City!
Azerbaijan, Baku
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
If Anthony Bourdain came to my city, Baku, I’d start his morning at a local tea house with fresh qutab and black tea. Then we’d visit the old city (İçərişəhər), try dovğa and dolma, and walk through the seaside boulevard. For lunch, I’d take him to a small spot near the market for freshly grilled lamb kebab and tandır bread. In the evening, we’d stop by a wine bar for local cheese and seafood from the Caspian. He’d end the night watching the lights of Flame Towers with a cup of Azerbaijani tea — full stomach, full heart.
A Restaurant Called Home
Humans Of The Kitchen
A story about food, family, and rewriting the recipe for how an industry should care for its own.
Fernanda Alvarez
I grew up surrounded by love served on plates. Sundays in my family meant endless tables, laughter, and stories, always with food at the center. My grandmother’s pots were sacred, her cooking a blend of Mexican roots with German and French touches. You could smell her dishes from the street, calling everyone home. Around that table, I learned that food was more than sustenance. It was love and belonging. That is why I chose this path, because I believe there is no greater act of love than sharing your heart, your essence, your table, and your soul in every plate you serve.
Cooking opened every door in my life. It led me into television, into creating experiences, and into founding my companies. Epic Happenings in Mexico City and Miami, and Epic Foods in CDMX. Whether I’m curating private chef services as an Airbnb partner or planning soulful corporate dinners, everything begins with cooking. It’s the foundation of who I am.
I studied culinary arts formally, but most of my education came from the kitchens of life: restaurants, catering, television sets, and the traditions passed down in my family. That blend of formal training and lived experience shaped me into a chef who values both technique and intuition.
My first taste of a restaurant kitchen was in Italy, at eighteen, when my parents and I made fresh pasta from scratch in the home of Massimo and Patricia. That moment touched my heart, showing me how food carries soul.
Later, in Mexico City, I stepped into my first professional kitchen: chaos, rhythm, giant pots, prep women who were the true queens. They carried centuries of knowledge in their hands, and I was in awe. I learned quickly that the kitchen pushes you to the edge. It humbles you, tests you, and forces you to grow.
There were times I felt too small, intimidated, and overwhelmed. At eighteen, the pressure and rhythm nearly broke me. But I learned to reinvent myself, to embrace failure with tolerance, and to understand that you never truly know it all. There is always someone to learn from. Above all, the kitchen gave me strength and the certainty that cooking is not just my craft but my way of loving and serving the world.
Some moments have shaped me forever. Like the time a man and his son came into my Miami restaurant and asked me to cook freely. I fed them with love, not knowing he was the Mayor. Later, I cooked for his family and even delivered food to his home when he was sick during the pandemic. Or the time I cooked for Billie Eilish in Mexico, asked to prepare sustainable, plant-based cuisine. Those moments reminded me of why I belong here, because food can heal, inspire, and transform.
My philosophy in the kitchen is that food is love, connection, and respect. Every ingredient carries life, and it deserves to be treated with care and gratitude. Cooking is about creating moments that bring people together and make them feel seen. As a leader, I carry that same philosophy: leading with empathy, humility, and resilience. I encourage my team to honor the process, to trust the rhythm, and always to keep creativity alive.
For me, the kitchen is not just a workplace but a sanctuary of service and learning. When I had my restaurant in Miami, it felt like home. The customers became family, and the staff was one big family too. Raquel, a woman from Guatemala who arrived early every morning to do the prep, was significant to me. She didn’t just work beside me, she cared for me. She made my overnight oats and chia pudding so I would always have breakfast ready, and when someone in the restaurant served me food, it felt like a hug for my soul.
Everywhere in the world, cooks take care of each other. It’s a language that needs no words. You do it because at some point, another colleague has cared for you. From helping with reservations to feeding one another in our restaurants to building real connections, that spirit of hospitality is what unites us. In my own restaurant in South Florida, I supported small entrepreneurs by inviting them to host pop-ups in my space so that they could share their craft with my community.
For me, hospitality has always been about lifting each other and creating family wherever you are. During those years in Los Angeles and Miami, my family was the one I built in the kitchen: my customers, my cooking school students, the production crews of the TV shows I worked on, and even the people who turned on their television to cook alongside me. And nothing makes me happier than being invited to a taste testing or asked for my input on a recipe.
The hardest part of this industry is not the pressure of service, but the lack of care for the people who make it possible. Long hours, low wages, and neglecting to eat or drink during service are not sustainable. I dream of a more human industry, where salaries are fair, mental and physical health matter, and cooks are valued as people, not just labor.
From my side, I actively work with local producers, honoring the land and the people behind each ingredient. I also make sure to pay fair wages and create a supportive environment for my team, because when we take care of each other, the whole system grows stronger. For me, change begins with small, conscious choices that ripple outward, building a better future for everyone at the table.
Photo credits to @roy.fajardo.photo & @mayakariana
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
One of the most unexpected ingredients I’ve ever worked with is edible flowers. At first, I thought of them only as decoration, but once I began cooking with them, I realized they carry flavor, energy, and even healing properties. They taught me that food is medicine and storytelling. This shifted my perspective forever. Now I see every ingredient, no matter how delicate or overlooked, as powerful and deserving of respect.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
French Fries with ketchup.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
One food trend I really dislike is over-processed “healthy” products. Foods marketed as plant-based, gluten-free, or sustainable, but actually filled with chemicals, preservatives, and ingredients that don’t truly nourish the body. For me, food should be real, alive, and connected to the earth. Cooking is about honoring ingredients in their natural state, not disguising them. Trends that prioritize aesthetics or marketing over authenticity take us further away from the true essence of food, which is to nourish, heal, and connect.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
The craziest shift I ever worked was in Miami, during a holiday weekend when we were completely overbooked. The line never stopped, tickets kept flying in, and the heat, noise, and adrenaline felt like a storm. We were short-staffed, so I jumped between stations, plating, expediting, and even running food to the tables. It was absolute chaos, but also magic, because in the middle of that pressure, the team came together like a family. We laughed, we sweated, and somehow we pulled it off.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
What happened was pure chaos, with orders piling up, hands missing on the line, and the pressure of a full house expecting perfection. I managed to get through it by breathing, staying grounded, and focusing on one plate at a time. I leaned on my team, jumped into every role that was needed, and trusted the rhythm we created together. In the middle of the storm, I realized that kitchens are not about one person. They’re about community, resilience, and the ability to turn chaos into beauty. That night taught me that leadership means presence, adaptability, and never losing sight of love for what you do.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
My advice to cooks and chefs is to stay grounded and true to yourself. Take inspiration from others, but never copy. Trust your gut and your own original proposal, even if it doesn’t make sense at the beginning. Take time off to nurture your creativity, because burnout is real. Go to the markets, get lost in the colors, work with vegetables, superfoods, edible flowers, and ingredients that keep food alive and joyful. Learn from the real MVPs, the prep cooks, your grandmothers, your mothers, because their knowledge is gold. Stay humble, sharpen your knives, wear colorful aprons, and remember that cooking should also be fun.
At the same time, take care of your body and mind. Always eat, rest, sleep properly, and drink water. Work with a therapist to manage adrenaline consumption and a physical therapist for your lower back, knees, and legs, because the kitchen is tough on the body. Find a sous chef who shares your taste buds, so you don’t carry the weight alone. Find your crew, the people you can trust, and take care of them as much as they take care of you. Cook as if you were cooking for yourself, because every guest is the most special guest.
And never forget that we are all rockstars. Don’t compete, make teams, and grow together. Cook alongside your favorite chefs and colleagues. Celebrate each other’s victories, because when one of us rises, we all rise.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
An underrated ingredient for me is cilantro. Many people think of it only as a garnish, but it is so much more. It carries brightness, depth, and even healing properties. Cilantro can transform a dish with just a handful, bringing freshness and balance to heavy flavors.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
I don’t think I have just one favorite dish I’ve cooked, because for me it’s not about the recipe itself, but about what it creates. What excites me most is when a dish transports someone or when a flavor reminds them of their grandmother’s kitchen, a childhood Sunday, or a moment of joy they thought they had forgotten. Sometimes it’s a colorful plant-based ceviche, a reimagined mole, or even a simple dish made with love, but the common thread is that food becomes a portal. My proudest dishes are the ones that awaken memories and emotions, because that is when food goes beyond the plate and touches the soul.
About Your City!
Mexico City
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
If Anthony Bourdain or a chef friend came to Mexico City, I would start the morning at my home with one of my colorful superfood smoothies, before heading out to Mercado de Medellín to explore local produce, edible flowers, and spices. From there, we’d stop at Buna Coffee for the best cortado with oat milk, and then visit Mercado el 100 to meet my favorite organic farmers and small producers.
For lunch, I’d take them to what I consider the best taco food truck in town, followed by an afternoon walk through Condesa and Roma, and then a stop downtown at La Lagunilla market for antiques, music, and culture. The next morning, we’d head to the chinampas in Xochimilco at sunrise, to watch the day begin while sharing homemade tortillas and fresh local produce surrounded by history and nature. Back in the city, we’d pause for my favorite matcha and a walk with my dog. For drinks, I’d take them to Bósforo for an unforgettable mezcal experience. Then, we’d sit down for dinner at Máximo, one of my favorite restaurants in Mexico City, where modern creativity meets tradition.
And finally, we would end the night with a bike ride through the city with one of the local cycling clubs, a perfect way to feel the accurate pulse of Mexico City.
A New Generation of Chefs
Humans Of The Kitchen
Zoe’s mission is to lead with empathy, creativity, and a vision for better kitchens.
Zoe Griffee
I have countless memories from my childhood that make me reflect, “I should have known I was destined to be a chef.” From watching Rachael Ray when I was just four years old, to my obsession with Cooking Mama on my Wii, to bonding with my dad over food shows, cooking was always a part of my life. But it wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I decided this wasn’t just a hobby; it was going to be my career.
I’ve never worked outside of a kitchen. Less than a month after graduating high school, I enrolled in culinary school in the middle of the pandemic. My first semester began with eight students, and by the third, it was just me and one other. In the end, I was the only one to graduate. That moment gave me confidence, but it also came with pressure. Moving up quickly meant learning lessons the hard way about leadership, self-discipline, and respect.
My first kitchen job was at Soyumi, a fast-casual Asian-American spot. I learned the fry station, wok, grill, expo, all of it. But nothing was made from scratch, and I wanted more. I found Sugar Magnolia, a small bistro that transformed into a high-end dinner spot at night, and applied right away. At 19, I walked in, terrified, surrounded by chefs in their 30s. I almost got fired within two months because I couldn’t keep up, but my chef saw something in me and gave me a chance. That place broke me down, humbled me, and pushed me harder than I thought possible. Eventually, I became sous chef, but that came with managing a team, so their mistakes became my mistakes. I wasn’t ready, and without guidance, it weighed on me.
When I left, I almost gave up on cooking altogether. The toxicity I experienced had me questioning if I even belonged in this industry. But taking the position at Watermelon Creek Vineyard changed everything. Running my own kitchen forced me to face my doubts head-on and reconnect with why I love cooking: the craft, the ingredients, the quiet rhythm of creating something that matters.
The moments that stay with me most aren’t the promotions or the positions. It’s when a guest tells me it’s the best meal they’ve ever had. That’s why I do this. Food isn’t just about nourishment. It’s connection, memory, and joy. I put my whole heart into every plate, hoping to make someone’s day better.
I’ve seen the darker side of the industry. The normalization of drugs and alcohol, the expectation to push yourself until you break. I don’t buy into that. Addiction is real, but I believe the culture around it doesn’t have to make it worse. I want to be part of a generation of chefs who create healthier kitchens, where respect and growth take priority over burnout.
My philosophy is simple: respect. Respect for ingredients, respect for the craft, and respect for the people in the kitchen with me. I believe in consistency, in intention, and in leading by example. Kitchens can be brutal places, but they can also be spaces of laughter, honesty, and camaraderie. That’s the culture I want to build.
Culinary school taught me determination. Becoming sous chef at 19 proved that I could hold my ground. But what keeps me inspired, even now, is the freedom to create and the support of those who believe in me. My biggest inspiration has always been my dad. He’s the one who first pulled me into the kitchen, the one I bonded with over food, the one who lit this fire in me. I wouldn’t be here without him, and every plate I send out carries a little piece of that story.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
One of my biggest surprises in cooking was discovering how much I enjoy meat fabrication. Breaking down a whole fish or a primal cut of meat connects me to the bigger picture: The animal, the anatomy, and the respect for what we’re given to cook with.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Frozen burritos.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Butter candles. Just eat butter like a normal person.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I’ll never forget when a coworker once sliced his hand badly while cutting scallions.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
He was bleeding on the floor while yelling at me to pour bleach on it. A few minutes later, he went pale, sat down, and fainted. That was the first time I had ever seen someone pass out, and it shook me, but in the kitchen, you just have to keep going.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
When I get discouraged, I remind myself that everything is a learning experience. Every setback makes you stronger, and every success shows you what’s possible.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Maple Syrup. It is my favorite sweetener for sauces and a pairing for cheese.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
My Korean Duck a L’orange with an orange gochujang glaze, kimchi, and kombu risotto.
About Your City!
Statesboro, Ga
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
If you ever come to Statesboro, GA, I’d take you on a food tour. For breakfast, we’d go to Loc’s Chicken and Waffles, hands down my favorite breakfast spot in town. For lunch, visit Soon’s Döner Kebab, where the owner serves authentic Greek-style gyros made with lamb, beef, or chicken. And for dinner, Del Sur Taqueria and Cantina. Their Tex-Mex dishes are fresh and delicious, but my go-to is their poke bowl.
Never Too Late for the Language of Food
Humans Of The Kitchen
When the page ran out of words, the kitchen became the next chapter.
Morgan de Polignac
My path to the kitchen wasn’t straightforward. For more than a decade, I taught Chinese literature after completing a PhD. I loved it, but around thirty-five, I felt a void, a sense that I needed to try something else before it was too late. That’s when I stepped into a small, traditional restaurant kitchen in Lyon for the first time. The rhythm was brutal, I had no technique, and I was juggling garde-manger and pastry. But it taught me the essentials: discipline, mise en place, and how to breathe under pressure.
The spark, though, began much earlier. As a child, I watched a family friend arrive on Sundays with bags of groceries. She would cook for us, letting me taste everything, teaching me the foundations of classic French cuisine. It felt like having another grandmother, and it planted the seed of a passion that never left me.
I studied basic culinary arts, a six-month training program, and then transitioned directly into the field. Since then, my path has been shaped by the people I’ve met. A pastry chef who had worked for a decade in a three-star restaurant showed me that pastry was not just recipes, but harmony, pairing, and endless curiosity. Another mentor reminded me, at a moment when I nearly quit, “Don’t overthink it, just do it. If it works, continue. If it doesn’t, start again.” Those words still guide me.
For me, the kitchen is a place of creation and exchange, a tool to mold ideas, but also a space to share knowledge and build together. Transmission is vital. I’ve almost walked away from this world several times, but each time, passion pulls me back. Cooking without sharing has no purpose.
The proudest moment of my career has been opening my own restaurant, @mofusan_lyon. Seeing people happy, receiving excellent reviews, and creating a space where young cooks want to learn, that recognition means more than any title. Teaching occasionally at culinary schools, passing on techniques, feels like a responsibility, but also a gift.
I have been cooking for ten years, and during this time, I have met many wonderful people, as well as some who were not so great. Nevertheless, it has been an enriching journey that has taught me so much about humanity, sharing, teaching, and learning. Everything is intense and concentrated all the time, and it never ends. The best reward I can receive is seeing someone enjoy one of my meals.
What I want for the future of this industry is transparency, humility, and true collaboration. Less ego, more openness. More chefs are stepping out of the kitchen to connect with the people they cook for. Because food is not just nourishment, it’s a conversation. And for me, every plate is an invitation to share.
Photo credits to @mchlm.photo
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
The first time I used eggplant in a dessert. It was a silly challenge launched by my head chef, which resulted in an excellent outcome. After a lot of thought, I’ve come to realise that cooking has no boundaries.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Pralinés of any sort, and a good big “boudin” (pork blood sausage), eaten in the morning when I was in the countryside.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
All visual stuff that totally neglects the taste. Visuals are an introduction, but taste is the most important.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Probably a 50-hour non-stop. I didn’t really notice what was around me much. And in the end, I started hallucinating, seeing people that didn’t exist and chatting with them. Never again.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I just did it, focusing on tasks to be completed and avoiding overthinking.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
Working your best, always be in the position of learning, and working on self-organisation, always trying to improve yourself. Talk freely and honestly, and if you encounter bad or evil people, just leave.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Veggies in deserts. There is a lot to explore!
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Probably eggplant in a desert. Matched with hojicha, bay leaf, cardamom, and honey.
About Your City!
Lyon, France
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
That would be the “Halles Paul Bocuse”, the groceries markets along the river, a lunch in a traditional restaurant we call “bouchon” in the old city “Vieux Lyon”, an afternoon in a coffee shop enjoying the river bank, and a diner in a restaurant in Fourvière (a hill, from which you can see the whole city).
Brown Butter Dreams
Humans Of The Kitchen
A chef’s mission to craft a human-sustainable kitchen culture, where precision meets purpose, and community comes first.
Michael Romo
I grew up in Long Beach, the child of first-generation immigrants, and much of my early upbringing was entrusted to my grandmother, who traveled from Aguascalientes, Mexico, to raise me. Some of my most formative memories are at eye level with the kitchen table, watching her hands work with rhythm and intention. The way fresh masa transformed under her touch was mesmerizing, humble ingredients becoming both nourishment and celebration. That table became my first classroom, where food revealed itself not only as sustenance, but as love, culture, and community. Those early lessons continue to shape the tables I create today.
At 17, I began as a dishwasher and worked my way through each station, discovering discipline, rhythm, and purpose along the way. By the age of 24, I became the Executive Chef of 320 Main in Seal Beach, a restaurant highly esteemed by my mentors. I never pursued another career. Cooking was always the path. For a short time, I enrolled in culinary school, but when I learned I was expecting my daughter, I left after a month and chose the kitchens as my classrooms instead. Every plate since then has been intentional: grounded in discipline, adaptability, and the responsibility of fatherhood. Food has never been just a technique for me. It’s been about creating a future, honoring sacrifice, and feeding the community.
I still remember my first time on the line, assisting Chef Andrew Gruel at an event at the Aquarium of the Pacific. The line moved like a dance, silent communication, urgency, precision, not a movement wasted. That rhythm shaped how I move in kitchens to this day. In those early years, the most significant challenges were endurance and balance. I was a young father, working 12+ hour shifts, sacrificing time at home with my newborn. The kitchen became my teacher: pushing me to listen more than I spoke, to move with intention, to adapt quickly. Over time, what once felt impossible became second nature.
Community has always been my anchor. What sustains me, even in the hardest days, is knowing that food is more than a meal; it’s belonging. After years of pursuing French and Italian techniques, one of my mentors, Luisteen González, reminded me to delve deeper into my own heritage. He told me that what I carried in my veins and on my palate couldn’t be bought, replicated, or taught; it had been passed down through the eternal love of my grandmother. That conversation reshaped everything. Today, my food honors those roots while incorporating techniques and flavors from around the world.
My philosophy in the kitchen is rooted in intention, community, and accountability. As Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” A strong kitchen, like a strong team, is built on trust, humility, and the willingness to surrender the “me” for the “we.” As a leader, I strive to elevate those around me, teaching that discipline and resilience matter, but so do empathy and collaboration. Success is not an accident; it is a result of sacrifice, perseverance, and love for the craft.
Kitchens have given me both craft and family. Long before I had the means to host birthdays or holidays at home, I would share them with staff over meals or on the line. In hard times, that camaraderie reminded me I was never alone, that the bonds forged in heat and pressure can carry you through life’s most difficult seasons.
I’m proud of how far those bonds, that discipline, and that community have taken me. From winning the “Best Steak” award at Chianina Steakhouse to becoming the youngest Executive Chef at Puesto, and from seeing The Brown Butter Boys featured in LB908 Magazine, each milestone has been proof that the impossible becomes possible with resilience and community behind you.
The Brown Butter Boys Supper Club was founded in 2021 as a response to the barriers I observed within the fine dining industry. After years in acclaimed kitchens, it was clear there was a gap between the artistry of cuisine and the accessibility of the experience. We set out to bridge that gap with nine-course hyperseasonal dinners offered at an approachable price, hosted in rotating intimate spaces across Long Beach and beyond. The response was immediate: our first year sold out in two months, and every dinner since then has sold out rapidly. Our guiding principle remains simple and straightforward: for the community, by the community.
What I love most about this industry is the connections I have with guests, farmers, and cooks who become like family. What I find frustrating is the culture of unsustainability that still persists: burnout, toxicity, and environments that prioritize sacrifice over support. With The Brown Butter Boys, I’m building a different kind of model, one that prioritizes freedom, creativity, and joy, proving that hospitality can thrive without sacrificing people.
For me, cooking has always been more than food. It’s about creating spaces where people slow down, connect, and feel cared for. My food reflects both fine-dining training and the comfort flavors of home. The Brown Butter Boys Supper Club bridges those worlds, offering experiences that honor our community while challenging me to grow as a chef. At every table, I carry the spirit of Long Beach with me.
📸 Photo credits to @nadine.photo.art
Location: @wineon2nd
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
The most unexpected ingredient I’ve ever worked with was the chicatana ant, a delicacy in parts of Mexico. At first, it didn’t feel very safe, something so outside the realm of everyday cooking. But working with it shifted my perspective: it reminded me that ingredients carry stories, history, and identity. The smoky, nutty intensity of the ants deepened my respect for indigenous foodways and for looking beyond the familiar. It taught me that inspiration doesn’t always come from luxury ingredients, but often from what’s been preserved and celebrated by generations before us.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Fried eggs, salsa macha, and warm corn tortillas.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
The food trend I dislike most is wastefulness; dishes built more for spectacle than for eating. Ingredients and resources are too valuable to treat as disposable. We can do better by cooking and serving food that nourishes, honors, and still looks excellent, sustainably.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
The craziest shift I’ve ever worked was the debut brunch at a Mina Group restaurant, when every water hose on the back line burst at once. We cooked in two inches of water, tickets never stopped, and neither did we. It proved that kitchens survive on grit, teamwork, and adapting under pressure.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
To this day, no one knows why or how it happened. What got us through was sheer determination and respect for the craft.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn how to surf.” – Jon Kabat-Zinn.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Epazote. It’s often dismissed as a weed, but in Mexican cooking, it’s indispensable. Its sharp, pungent aroma transforms a simple pot of beans into something layered and alive. For me, epazote represents how flavor and meaning can come from the most overlooked places. It’s a reminder to honor what tradition has preserved for generations, and to see value where others might not.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
A must-try dish would be Binchotan-grilled white asparagus. The asparagus is gently poached and compressed with Japanese smoked vinegar, then charred over Binchotan charcoal and finished with a miso glaze. It’s served over a classic soubise with a coddled egg, fried shallots/leeks, and chervil. For me, it represents the way I approach food: rooted in technique, respectful of seasonality, and unafraid to create something expressive. Every element has intention, yet the dish feels simple in the moment, proof that discipline and restraint can create both harmony and surprise on a plate.
About Your City!
Seal Beach
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
Born and raised in Long Beach and now in Seal Beach, the tour starts at Catrina Café for chilaquiles, the kind of plate that makes my uncle fly in from CDMX and demand it every time.
Lunch? Sushi Ryokan, a strip-mall joint where Panda runs the bar with a smile, is proof that some of the best bites hide in the least flashy corners. Then a greasy, perfect burger at Fantastics on Cherry and Wardlow, no frills, just soul.
Dinner kicks off in Bixby Knolls with cocktails, chips, and dangerously addictive salsa at Lola’s, before ending the night shoulder-to-shoulder at Los Compadres over a molten molcajete, queso fundido, and fresh tortillas. That’s Long Beach, rough around the edges, but unforgettable at the table.
Cooking for More Than Himself
Humans Of The Kitchen
How becoming a young father pushed Egypt to turn passion into purpose.
Egypt Davis
For most of my childhood life, we were very poor and couldn’t eat most days as we were on the streets and in and out of shelters. In 4th grade, my class had a “Pot-Luck”. Since we didn’t have much, my mom “borrowed” some rice, tomatoes, and spices from work to make Spanish Dirty Rice. She let me help her. All I did was smash tomatoes and mix in the rice, and as corny as it sounds, when I was stirring the rice into the tomatoes there was a literal spark in my heart. The next day, when I saw the smiles of my classmates reacting to the simple rice we made, I knew I wanted to cook.
I enrolled in culinary school right after high school, paying out of pocket. But tuition kept rising, and I couldn’t keep up. I dropped out. The next day, I walked into ACF certified Master Chef, Edward Leonard, restaurant looking for a job. I told him I wanted to learn from him regardless of being paid. His response was to burst out laughing in my face and then say “If you dedicate your life to me, I’ll dedicate my time to you and make you something great.”
He hired me and made me a Master Chef’s Apprentice. For the next six and a half years, I trained under him, learning, traveling, absorbing everything I could. I studied under other Master Chefs, built a foundation in technique, and honed my philosophy: stay fluid, continually learn, and cook like your family is at the table.
After becoming a father early, I was determined to give my daughter a better childhood than mine and improve life for my mom and siblings. My love for cooking became my way to provide for them. Whenever I face challenges in the kitchen, I draw strength from my family to find my inspiration again.
That drive has taken me places I never imagined, like placing third in Hell’s Kitchen: Head Chefs Only season 23. Competing at that level validated everything I’ve worked for.
One of the biggest problems in this industry is waste. That’s why I started a food donation project in Palm Beach County, working with local kitchens to rescue safe, unsold food and distribute meals to those in need. I also hope to see more fusion as the industry evolves. Food is a universal language, but chefs often stay locked in their traditions.
Working and living in the restaurant world comes with its highs and lows, but for me the best part is that no matter how far you go, there’s always something new to learn. I believe there’s knowledge to gain from everyone, and that belief fuels my approach in the kitchen: stay fluid.
Growing up with little to eat made every bite feel special, even a simple salted tortilla was mind-blowing to me as a child. Now, as a chef, discovering how vast food can be fills me with excitement and keeps me inspired to grow.
Photo 2, 4, & 6 taken by @chef_el.fuego
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
The most unexpected ingredient I’ve had the pleasure of working with was Kangaroo and Camel Meat. During my apprenticeship days, I was introduced to two extremely gamey meats. At first, the flavor and smell put me off using them, but now I can push the boundaries of my recipes by changing the common proteins for game proteins, elevating many of the dishes I create today.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
My Guilty Pleasure meal is Southern Style Fried Chicken smothered in Buttermilk Sausage Gravy.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
I genuinely love all the trends that show the development of the culinary world.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
When I first started my apprenticeship, I worked for 3 months straight with no days off. We lived at the restaurant, starting as early as 5:30 am and continuing until 1 am.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
My mentor was and still is exceptionally passionate about all things culinary and tends to get swept away in his projects. When I became his underling, he warned me of this. So I was prepared before going into it.
- What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
Learn to accept, breakdown, and absorb criticism and then use that information to grow. Also, never believe that you know it all, knowledge comes from listening and understanding, there are different ways to reach the same destination.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Black Garlic. Most chefs I have come across have never heard of Fermented Garlic, and those who typically don’t like it because of the strong, unique flavor. But I personally love it.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
My southern style Mac-n-Cheese and “Collard” Green Beans (Green Beans done Collard Green Style)
About Your City!
Chicago
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
- For Breakfast, we would eat at The Original Pancake House in Hyde Park, Chicago.
- For lunch, we will go to Los Comales in Pilsen, Chicago. (Mexican Cuisine).
- For Dinner, we would go to Flat Top Grill in the heart of Downtown Chicago.
- Recommended Places in your city:
- Dish or food you must try: Italian Beefs-Dipped, Mozzarella, Giardiniera
- Cultural Events: Taste of Chicago
- Neighborhoods: Pilsen and Little Village
- Street Food/Food Trucks: The Elotaro’s on the corners in Pilsen.
- Restaurants: Flat Top Grill and Uno Pizzeria
- Bars: Timothy O’Toole (Gold Coast Downtown Chicago)
The Strength of Women, the Flavor of Manabí
Humans Of The Kitchen
From an ancestral oven to leading kitchens and building a network that preserves memory and fuels the future.
Laura Valentina Alvarez Solórzano
I was raised beside a manabita oven, a space alive with tradition and ancestral memory. My earliest years were spent with my great-grandmother, Dona, watching the magic move through her hands as flavors rose from the fire. The smells clung to my skin, the smoke filled my eyes, and my soul bonded with the land. For me, cooking has always been more than work. It is ritual, song, and sharing. I cannot imagine myself doing anything else but cooking, learning from other women, and building a better future for my community through our identity and food.
Though I always loved cooking, I also studied a master’s in gastronomic education because teaching is part of who I am. Today, I work with @icherestaurante, a project that was born to rebuild and regenerate Manabí after the devastating earthquake of April 16. At its core, it is food with purpose, and that mission continues to guide me.
I am a traditional cook. My training began at home, at the fire, and with the women of my family and community. Every flavor, every bite, was a lesson. Cooking provided us with the income to survive, helped us send our children to school, and remained an integral part of my path, even after marriage, when I began working in the restaurant of my husband’s family. That kitchen became my school, a space of trial and error, laughter and resilience, where I grew by doing, guided by the queens of the fire.
My first restaurant experience came when I took over an abandoned kitchen in my mother-in-law’s hotel. With only my own resources and knowledge, I transformed the space, learning alongside women from the community. Later, in 2019, I applied for the sous chef position at @icherestaurante. At first, I didn’t think I belonged, surrounded by candidates with Michelin-star backgrounds; I felt like “just a simple cook.” But my friends pushed me forward, and I was chosen. They saw what mattered most: my knowledge, passion, ancestral connection, and identity.
Those early years weren’t easy. I struggled to learn the language of a professional kitchen, and many times I cried alone. People doubted me, some even mistook me for a student instead of a chef. But I defended my culture, my technique, and my flavors, and they spoke louder than words. Our first menu embodied everything about me.
What keeps me inspired is the women’s community: the fire, the farms, the joy of creation. Together, we fight for recognition, for our values, and for a future where our traditions live on. One moment that will stay with me forever was during the earthquake, when we cooked day and night for firefighters and rescue workers. Another was when I first raised my voice to demand respect in the kitchen. From that day on, my boss began calling me chef.
My philosophy is rooted in democratic leadership. I believe in giving people the tools and responsibilities to rise and become the best version of themselves. I don’t monopolize knowledge or authority; I share it so that my team can shine. Cooking may be heavy at times, but in the kitchen, I have found the most loyal friends, people who never leave you alone, who share joy, tears, and purpose.
Among the milestones I am most proud of is being recognized as one of the leading traditional cooks of Manabí and being invited to an important congress such as Féminas 2023. But what matters most to me is the trust and respect I’ve earned from other traditional cooks, producers, and friends, people who recognize my knowledge and passion.
I love the community culture of restaurants: the open conversations, mutual respect, and generosity. What I reject is the envy, the showmanship, and the people who try to harm others for their own satisfaction. That is why we created the Red de Cocineras Manabitas, an incredible network of women working together to raise our traditions to the highest respect and to pass them on to future generations.
For me, the future is regenerative food systems, going beyond sustainability to create justice for local people. Food should bring joy, rebuild bridges, and make us better, more human. That is the path I walk every day: food as memory, food as identity, food as a way to dream of a brighter future for all.
Photo Credits Laura’s Story
Photo 1: Club Remiun, Photo 2: Rodrigo Rojas, Photo 3: Liss Betancourt, Photo 4: Rodrigo Rojas, Photo 5: Nat Geo Festival, Photo 6: Yeiko Moreira, Photo 7: Rodrigo Rojas, Photo 8: Manabí Produce, Photo 9: Rodrigo Rojas, Photo 10: Karen Toro.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
The neapia. It is a paste made for the mandioca milk, and it has a fantastic flavor, full of umami
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
The pig fat.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Healthy food with two ingredients.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
An event in Guayaquil.
5. What tips would you give to other cooks and chefs to help them navigate their culinary careers and find peace amid the chaos of the kitchen?
To be happy, loyal, and disciplined.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
The tuna botargas.
- What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
To cater to the Monaco Prince and heir, 250 guests were served exclusively with Ecuadorian products.
About Your City!
San Vicente, Manabí, Ecuador
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
I’d start with an encebollado in San Vicente, followed by a delicious lunch in Cocosolo, featuring shrimp in coconut sauce, and then a coconut soufflé. Finally, I’d have dinner at Iche restaurante.