The Rise of Evil Cooks
Humans Of The Kitchen
Defying norms, Combating Flames, Metal - Fueled Dreams
Alex & Elvia
It started as just another Saturday at Smorgasburg. Our huitlacoche supplier from Mexico mentioned the wildfires. It’s devastating how normal that kind of news has become—these days, all you can do is hope they calm down by nightfall. Seven years of running pop-ups and over 17 years in the industry couldn’t prepare us for what came next.
We were 25 hours without power, scrambling for generators to save the food at our brick-and-mortar, which had only been open a couple of months. But when the fires kept hitting, it stopped being about us. We started cooking for firefighters and families in shelters, giving everything we had until we ran out of food. Then something cool happened—an old friend @lifeandthyme, showed up with a donation of meat. Others sent money. That kept us going.
As chefs, this is what we do: serve, help, and make someone’s day better. But there’s a harsh reality. After the fires, people stopped going out. They’re saving for the next disaster. Wildfires might come again. It’s hard not to feel uncertain about the future.
Yet, rebelling against the current is what we know best. We both took different paths in the kitchen—one in fine dining, the other in large-scale school operations. We walked away from the usual chef’s path: no chasing accolades, no institutional food service systems. Instead, we created Evil Cooks—a mix of our love for metal music and our refusal to conform.
We’re both from Mexico, but we grew up in LA, surrounded by a mashup of flavors—Chinese, Persian, Korean. A Chinese taco didn’t just make sense; it felt natural. For seven years, we sold food in bars and breweries, just doing what we loved.
Then came the call. A friend told us we’d been nominated for @beardfoundation . We couldn’t believe it—still a pop-up, suddenly in the spotlight. We never went looking for it, but sometimes life works like that. You just keep doing the things that truly move you, and things fall into place.
Anais Rivera
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.
Ricardo Fagundes Borelli
Ricardo Fagundes Borelli
I am from São Paulo, Brazil, and I have been in the gastronomy business for 24 years. My passion for cooking started due to the influence of my father, who was an excellent amateur cook. One of my earliest memories related to food occurred when I was around 8 or 9 years old. My parents argued and went to bed without dinner. I woke up in the early morning hours, took the leftover food from the fridge, heated it, set the table with candles and flowers, and then woke them both up and insisted that they could only get up and eat after resolving their dispute. From then on, I realized that food brings people together.
When I was 14, my family faced a financial crisis and went bankrupt. We moved to the coast of São Paulo, where my parents opened a small bar that served homemade food. My father was the cook. It was there that I took my first steps in a “professional” kitchen, even though it was just in our garage. I often felt embarrassed to work alongside my parents, as was typical for someone my age. As time went by, I grew up, and by age 16, I needed to find work. I had the brilliant idea of selling sweet pies, even though I had never made one before. Remarkably, I managed to make a few sales, but like many young people, I soon lost interest and gave up.
When I turned 18, I joined the army, where I learned industrial cooking and how to prepare meals in large quantities. I was responsible for feeding 1,700 people, and during this experience, I realized that I could pursue a career in the culinary field. After completing my compulsory service, I decided to try life in Florianópolis and began working as a kitchen assistant in a restaurant. I learned a lot during my three years there. In 2006, I received a scholarship to study cooking at Senac, which helped refine my skills. I worked at several restaurants, both good and bad.
In 2020, an opportunity arose for me to lead a Brazilian kitchen in Costa Rica, where I worked for four seasons. Today, I serve as a private chef for one of the most traditional families in Brazil. Gastronomy has provided me with everything I have today.
Sandy Martinez
I still remember the sting of reality after culinary school. I thought I was ready to take on the world, but the kitchen had other plans. It was a hard blow to realize that in every kitchen, you have to start from the bottom and work with humility; that every station, every cuisine, and every chef is unique.
But that humility, that willingness to learn, to take the hits and keep moving—it’s what shaped me into the chef I am today. I started as a waitress in my town, Guanajuato, Mexico, and now it’s been twelve years in the industry, which taught me that cooking isn’t just about following a recipe; it’s about respect, tradition, and constant learning.
I have left a piece of my heart in every kitchen I have worked in. As a woman in the culinary industry, it wasn’t easy to carve my own path at first. However, through hard work and dedication and the people I have met along the way, I have built a career doing what I love. My cooking style is free and creative, but I always strive to respect the proper techniques and processes. I thrive on the fire and adrenaline of the kitchen, yet I also cherish the peace I feel when I see a satisfied diner smiling as their plate arrives at the table.
Through the years, I never forgot my purpose. Those long hours and hard work, even if they took a part of me, reinforced my understanding of what I was doing there and why. I was there to learn, to refine my skills, and to make my culinary vision a reality.
When the pandemic hit, it took everyone by surprise, but I felt prepared. That’s when @wokiwokqro was created.
Davide Calabrese
I was born in Bitonto and graduated from the ITIS Guglielmo Marconi as a thermomechanical expert in 2012. In 2014, I decided to embark on a new adventure in London, working as a commis chef at Plateau, a French restaurant in the heart of Canary Wharf. This moment marked a significant change in my life; I felt I belonged to something meaningful and was part of a personal journey. I was fortunate enough to conclude my experience in England in the kitchen of Pierre Gagnaire, a chef with three Michelin stars.
With a wealth of new technical knowledge, I returned to Italy and began working for Don Alfonso at the San Barbato Resort, which holds one Michelin star. Eager for more adventures, I took the opportunity to move abroad once again, this time to Luxembourg. I started a new work experience at the Château de Bourglinster, where I worked in the brasserie restaurant as well as the one-star green distillery. There, I learned the importance of vegetable cuisine, which inspired me to create a vegetarian course that reflects my vision of eco-sustainability and makes a small contribution to our planet.
Today, I am the head chef at @lelapperelais in Tuscany, and I hope that cooking continues to evolve toward a more patient and humane environment. To preserve the future of this art, we must remember how our mentor chefs achieved greatness and revolutionized world cuisine.
Aline de Freitas
Departing from Minas Gerais (Belo Horizonte), a celebrated hub for food in Brazil, I made the move to Australia and am now based in Sydney. Over the past eight years, I have fully immersed myself in the culinary world. Through food, I have witnessed countless dreams come to life and navigated a sea of opportunities that I once thought were beyond my reach.
The kitchen is my favorite place to be, where I draw inspiration and experience a spectrum of emotions in mere moments. I constantly push boundaries, improve my skills, embrace failures, and dive deeper into the challenges the kitchen brings. The privilege of working alongside chefs I admire and sharing kitchen spaces with individuals on their unique journeys is truly remarkable. As my career progresses, I am confident in achieving my dreams and sharing my journey with those who are interested.
Becoming a great chef extends beyond the kitchen. It is about how often you practice a skill, how much you study your craft, and how consistently you can reproduce results with the utmost excellence. The kitchen is a team environment, and the combination of diverse skills and experiences shapes who you are. I have been fortunate to have many unforgettable experiences, but I also recognize that there is still much to explore in the culinary world.
The industry has been evolving significantly, particularly regarding management and food concepts. It is becoming increasingly open to ethical and sustainable approaches. As a chef, I believe sourcing matters; therefore, I prioritize high-quality, ethical, and local produce. I am deeply committed to working with people who strive for excellence, embrace sustainability, respect ingredients, and support small farms and businesses. It is essential to understand that the experiences you have and the people you meet along the way will significantly influence how you cook, although it is often unpredictable.
Carlos Lucas
I’ve always been drawn to the rush of adrenaline and the constant movement. I was studying engineering, but it didn’t feel right. I clashed with my parents, who wanted a traditional path for me. But I lived by a simple rule: ‘No Regrets.’ So, I made the decision to drop out of engineering and start studying Culinary Arts.
Since then, I’ve worked in every corner of the kitchen, from dishwasher to executive chef. I’ve seen it all - the fights, the mistreatment, the hidden loves, and the open ones. I’ve encountered my fair share of characters. Overrated chefs and cooks who thought they were above the rest. Underrated individuals who worked tirelessly behind the scenes. But through it all, I’ve learned to act quickly, think on my feet, and make effective decisions. I’ve also learned to appreciate the family you find in the kitchen - the people who become your support system, your confidants, and your friends. I’ve seen the ugly but also the beauty of a well-run kitchen, where everyone works together like a well-oiled machine.
I remember a moment that changed everything. I was asked to cook Duck Magret at a private event in a wealthy family’s home. I poured my heart into it, and when the guests stood up to applaud, I was blown away. But what really stuck with me was a conversation with one of the guests, who knew my dad. He told me I’d made the right decision, and that I deserved my family’s support. That dinner opened doors for me, including a job offer as Sous Chef at one of Panama’s top restaurants.
As a Panamanian chef, I envision a future where cooks’ dedication is valued. Like police officers, who can retire after 25-28 years, I believe cooks deserve similar recognition. It’s time to acknowledge our hard work and passion, and provide a well-deserved retirement. At the end of the day, we’re not just cooking meals, we’re building communities, and preserving traditions.
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📸 @soymarcosalvarez
Stephanie Bonnin
I still remember the way the rice clumped together like a cake. I was seven years old and had convinced my parents to let me cook dinner. I made chicken with mushrooms and spinach rice, eager to prove I could do it. It was far from perfect, but the joy I felt in the kitchen lit something inside me.
Fast forward to my early 20s: I’d almost forgotten about that little spark. I was in law school in Colombia, following my family’s expectations. Cooking wasn’t considered a “real career” back home. Colombia, with its rich culture but heavy social struggles, often pushes dreams aside for stability. I liked the idea of law, especially its potential to help people, but I hated everything else about it.
Then I took a leap—or perhaps I ran away. I paused my degree and went to Chicago to study English. There, I fell in love and wanted to stay, to build something new. I looked into transferring my law classes, but nothing fit.
During that time, life shook me to my core. My father, who had lived a free spirit lifestyle, was losing his battle. His health was fading, but his spirit wasn’t. I still remember sitting with him during his final days. He told me something I carry with me to this day: Do what makes you happy.
His words pulled me out of the fog of depression. I realized I didn’t want to spend my life regretting the chances I didn’t take.
I enrolled in culinary school. I worked at places like Cosme in New York, learning techniques and refining my skills. But something felt off. I didn’t want to chase stars, and the traditional chef culture didn’t fit me. I rathered sell from my house of the street and connect with people in a deeper label.
So, I created La Tropi Kitchen—a research project that honors the women and traditions of the Caribbean, a celebration of sabrosura—the joy and soul that define our cuisine. During the pandemic, this dream took shape in the most unexpected way. From the window of my tiny Brooklyn apartment, I sold dishes of the day ¡Si hay sancocho!
That same curiosity for exploring my roots have now expanded into @elpatiotropicalnyc a culinary studio dedicated to explore the diversity of Latin America.
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📷 Ernesto Roman
Abhilash Jayan
