Law Follows Order. Food Embraces Imperfection.
Humans Of The Kitchen
From Sunday lumpia to New York’s SoloDiner, Kevin redefines Filipino food while building kitchens rooted in empathy.
Kevin Cardenas
Sunday afternoons were sacred in my house. After mass, my mom and aunties would gather around the dining table with neon-colored bowls, chopping vegetables for lumpia and pancit. The smell of garlic frying filled the air, layered with the sound of gossip that flowed as easily as the oil in the pan. That’s where it started for me, food as a connection and love.
For a long time, though, I wasn’t supposed to be a chef. My family wanted me to be a lawyer. A safe path, a stable life. And for a while, I was on track for it. But when I eventually stepped into a kitchen, something clicked. Cooking itself came naturally to me, but all those years of studying, negotiating, and writing contracts turned out to be the real training. The food might be the passion, but running a kitchen means you need both the craft and the business. That “previous life” gave me the tools to survive beyond the stove.
My first kitchen job came when I was 18 or 19, working as a server while in university. I’d already been cooking basic meals for myself at home, but one day the kitchen needed extra help and I started peeling potatoes, picking herbs, and washing lettuce. The owner asked me, “When are you going to cook in the kitchen? You seem to know what you’re doing.” I told him I never had. He replied, “It’s like cooking at home, except you do the same thing 200 times a night and you can’t mess up.” That was it. I was in.
I initially taught myself to cook, inspired by shows like “Mind of a Chef” that explored the thought processes behind chefs’ actions. This sparked my natural curiosity about the nuances of food and cooking. There’s value in seeing things differently, acknowledging that nature isn’t perfect.
Being the youngest in the kitchen had its challenges. Most of my coworkers were in their 30s, seasoned veterans who had been at it for years. I tried to learn from everyone, but eventually I focused on the head chef. It wasn’t about dismissing the others; it was about finding the source of truth that aligned with where I wanted to go. That lesson, filtering information, cherry-picking guidance, and shaping it into my own, has carried me through my entire career.
Today, what keeps me going is my team. They are talented, diverse, and unafraid to challenge me. As a chef, it’s easy to get stuck in your own head and vision, but they remind me to stay open, to listen, and to keep improving. Some of my proudest moments have been rooted in empathy, like when my sous chef felt overwhelmed and unappreciated. Instead of being defensive, I listened. We worked through it together, and our relationship grew stronger. Those lessons, patience, listening, and humility have shaped me just as much as the food itself.
SoloDiner, our pop-up group, is another milestone that fills me with pride. In our first year alone, we hosted 34 pop-ups across New York City. It was nonstop, sometimes grueling, but when we celebrated our first anniversary collaborating with EHK Wines and Petrossian caviar, I finally felt the weight of what we had built. It wasn’t just about the food; it was about community, creativity, and resilience.
In the kitchen, my philosophy is simple: understand the “why” and embrace imperfection. Mother Nature isn’t perfect, neither are we. The produce might not look the way we want it to, the marinade might sit longer than intended, and sometimes those deviations make the dish even better. For me, cooking is about curiosity, flexibility, and remembering the purpose behind what we do.
As a Filipino-American, I’ve often felt caught between being “too American” or “not Filipino enough.” Our food, like our identity, is layered with Spanish, Japanese, and American influences. And with SoloDiner, we’re not trying to “bridge the gap” outright, but we’re definitely playing in that space, introducing Filipino food in a way that’s respectful of tradition while also current, fun, and accessible.
What I love most about this industry is its selflessness. We’re tuned in to the needs of others to such a degree that it becomes second nature. But what frustrates me is how little of that care gets extended inward to the very people making it all possible. Too many kitchens still run on intimidation, yelling, or fear. I’m working to change that. My approach is softer: embrace the failures, own them, and learn from them, but do it in a way that builds people up instead of tearing them down.
At the end of the day, we know how to take care of guests; that much is certain. My hope is that the industry learns to take care of its people with the same devotion. That’s the kind of culture I want to pass forward.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
There was not a singular ingredient that changed my perspective, but rather a process that did: fermentation. When I first learned about fermentation, I was a line cook, and it was just an ingredient. But then I ran out of lacto-fermented tomatoes for the first time. Little did I know that it was a process that took multiple days and specific conditions to accomplish. After that, I became curious; I deep dived into the world of fermentation, and I was fascinated by it. The most beautiful part about it (which had made me appreciate food scarcity and waste more) was that you are essentially taking a product at its peak and preserving that nuance in a specific time and place. That’s so cool and beautiful.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Chinese takeout: General Tso’s Chicken with pork fried rice.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Everything in tower form. Higher doesn’t mean better.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Thanksgiving service at EMP.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
It was such a rush, marathon, and trial to get through that service. Our cover counts were so high, production lists were insane, and we were all definitely sleep-deprived. I managed to get through that by leaning on my team to keep me locked in and focused.
- 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?
Listen, listen, and listen. We always say that we need to walk before we can run, which is true. But folks need to hear more first before anything. And that’s not just in cooking, but also in understanding why people do what they do, the reasoning behind their choices, and why they prefer to do things differently or more challenging than others. Listening builds a foundation and skills that will carry you the rest of the way.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Vinegars! A delicious Filipino spiced coconut vinegar is a beautiful acidic pop.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
The last dish that I loved creating and executing was our Tamarind-Glazed Skirt Steak. The inspiration was sinigang, which is a sour soup made with tamarind, tomatoes, and bitter melon. I glazed dry-aged skirt steak with a tamarind paste, fish sauce, and soy, and then grilled it. Then, I served it with a Hawaiian macaroni salad and heirloom tomatoes. Such a beautiful summer dish that was very yummy.
About Your City!
New York City
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
- Breakfast: WinSon – Scallion Pancake Egg and Cheese.
- Lunch: Thai Diner (definitely get the disco fries and the crab fried rice).
- Pop-Up: Check out the 8it app for the whole run-down…slight plug for SoloDiner for Filipino food.
- Dinner: Bar Americano.
- Bars: Bar snack, Romeo’s, Compagnie Flatiron, Clemente Bar, Whiskey Tavern.
Reaching the High Without Losing the Ground
Humans Of The Kitchen
From family preserves to fine dining, she learned that the highest achievement is a kitchen rooted in humanity.
Hristiana Dimitrova
I grew up in Varna, Bulgaria, in a family that loved to cook. My mother, aunt (the baking queen), and grandparents filled our home with flavors, from sneaky spices to garden-fresh produce. Summers were spent preserving nature’s bounty: making jams, pickles, and exchanging eggs and cheese in our village. We may not have traveled much, but our kitchen and dining room were the heart of our home, where we connected and shared warmth. This deep-rooted appreciation for food is a big reason I chose this path, as it always represented love and nurture in my life.
Before kitchens, I studied Events Management, my first passion. Moving abroad and facing a language barrier, I turned to cooking, which I loved. I began with small jobs, progressed to private gigs, and eventually trained at Hotelschool Ter Duinen in Belgium, one of Europe’s top culinary schools. I expected to learn cooking techniques, but instead gained knowledge in service, wine, entrepreneurship, and hospitality. This holistic education showed me that food is about the whole experience, not just the plate.
My first real kitchen was at the Holiday Inn Express by Glasgow Airport, where I worked as a Guest Service Assistant. I did everything from bartending to setting up breakfast and plating desserts. It wasn’t glamorous, but it gave me structure and discipline. I’ll never forget my manager, Gary, taking off his blazer in the middle of a rush and jumping into the kitchen, frying potatoes alongside us. That moment taught me that leadership is about stepping in.
One of the biggest challenges I faced early on was being exploited by senior staff. As a trainee, I didn’t fully understand my role and was often taken advantage of. Over time, I recognized this mistreatment and learned to set boundaries, communicate clearly, and create a respectful environment.
Another major challenge was the physical toll of the job, with extended hours and constant soreness. I found ways to manage it by taking short breaks, sitting when possible, practicing mindful eating, reducing alcohol consumption during the workweek, and stretching after shifts. These changes significantly improved my physical and mental well-being.
I find inspiration in many places, such as hiking, concerts, raves, and food trucks at festivals. Stepping away from the kitchen often sparks my best ideas. Traveling has also profoundly shaped me; observing how other cultures use ingredients and experiencing the hospitality in small cafés and street stalls enriches my perspective. Those moments nourish me just as much as the work itself.
One of the people who shaped me most was Chef Rein, my instructor in Belgium. He never yelled, never let us drown completely, but also never gave us easy answers. He taught me that leadership in kitchens isn’t about intimidation but about guiding, protecting, and giving people the confidence to grow. I carry his lessons with me every time I lead a team.
I’ve worked in Michelin-starred dining, in oyster bars, in small bistros, and in casual spaces. I’ve been proud of the exams I’ve passed, the events I’ve catered, and the menus I’ve created. But maybe the most important milestone was realizing I could step away from fine dining and still be proud. That I could find my place in private gigs, pop-ups, and casual food, reconnecting with why I loved cooking in the first place.
My philosophy is simple: the ingredient is the flavor. Respect the seasons, cook with intention, and lead with kindness. I want my kitchens to feel calm, focused, and fair, places where people can thrive, not just survive.
Because I’ve also seen the worst of it: burnout, addiction, the old mentality that exhaustion equals value, I want no part of that. Kitchens should be human-centered, with balance, communication, and emotional intelligence as much a part of the training as knife skills.
Food has always been my way of feeling grounded, of connecting with others, of creating joy. My hope for the future is an industry that holds on to that humanity and values the people behind the plates as much as the plates themselves.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Miso. I discovered it through a friend just before we started shooting food content for a vegan brand. At first, I had no clue what to do with it, but once I started playing around, I realized it’s ridiculously versatile. Now I throw it into pretty much everything, from meats and sauces to even desserts. It’s got this crazy depth of flavor and some awesome health benefits too. Honestly, it’s one of those ingredients I can’t stop using.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
A McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries, or a frozen pizza after a busy shift. Sorry, not sorry!
- A food trend that you hate and why?
I wouldn’t say I hate it, but I struggle to connect with molecular gastronomy, especially when it’s used more to impress than to genuinely enhance the dining experience. I fully respect the science and creativity behind it. The techniques can be clever, and when used with purpose, they can elevate a dish in truly interesting ways. But too often, it feels like style over substance. Sometimes the ingredients get lost in the transformation. They’re pushed too far, overly manipulated, or artificially enhanced. For example, if the tomatoes your supplier brought in are not at their peak, turning them into water, then back into a gel, adding sugar, vinegar, or “magical powders” to make them taste better doesn’t solve the problem; it just masks it. I’d rather replace the ingredient entirely than try to force something that isn’t at its best. To me, great cooking is about honesty and letting ingredients speak for themselves. Molecular gastronomy has its place, but I prefer food that’s grounded and satisfying naturally.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
There have been so many intense shifts that it’s hard to choose just one. Some of the wildest have been opening nights at new kitchens I’ve helped launch. There’s a unique energy in those moments, and no matter how well you prepare, the unexpected always finds a way in.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
There are shifts where everything seems to go wrong at once. Unexpected bookings flood in, guests all arrive at the same time, a menu item runs out mid-service, or we’re short-staffed with team members still in training. Sometimes, there’s this eerie calm just before it all kicks off, and you can almost feel it coming. You just know, “Tonight’s going to be hell.” In those moments, I’ve learned to stop and ask myself: How bad could it be, really? That perspective helps. I’ve never had a guest walk out, never faced a life-threatening allergy issue, and never seen a serious staff accident. That reality grounds me. It reminds me that no matter how intense things feel, they’re still manageable.
My approach is to double down on focus, stay clear-headed, and communicate constantly with the team. Compassion and calm are crucial. I try to keep morale steady and remind everyone to focus on what’s within our control. And honestly, sometimes things just work out. Someone steps up, a solution appears, or things resolve in ways you didn’t expect. I like to joke that a “kitchen fairy” shows up and saves the day. But really, it’s just the power of teamwork, adaptability, and staying cool under pressure.
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?
Firstly, never settle for a toxic work environment or culture. Anything that damages your mental health comes at too high a cost. Be fully aware of what you’re sacrificing and what you’re willing to give. Have clear goals and a strong sense of purpose in every role you take on. When your vision is clear, it becomes easier to push through the toughest shifts. Always practice kindness, no matter the pressure. Keep the chef ego in check. Humility and respect go a long way in building a strong team and a positive kitchen culture. And above all, take care of yourself. This industry demands both physical and mental strength, and your body and energy are your most valuable assets. Treat yourself with compassion and remember: your well-being is not just about your career, it’s about your life.
7. What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Whey. It can be used in baking, for sauces or marinades, or for fermentation. Excellent byproduct, packed with outstanding nutritional properties.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Something made with the fresh produce from my grandparents’ garden and a wild-caught fish from my uncle.
About Your City!
Varna, Bulgaria
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
I’ve only been back in my city for eight months after living in Belgium, so I’m still rediscovering it. It’s not a fine-dining capital. Its soul is in street food and the rich mix of Balkan and Eastern flavors.
We’d start the morning with banitsa and ayran or boza, ideally my grandmother’s, or at a bakery nearby, a famous site The Varna Cathedral, they offer a great banitsa, made with sourdough. Lunch would be at a no-frills local spot for tripe soup, bold, unapologetic, and the kind of dish you either love instantly or never forget trying.
For dinner, we’d drive north along the coast to a mussel farm, eating Black Sea mussels and freshly caught seafood with nothing between you and the ocean but the sound of the waves.
The region is also home to wine festivals and tastings, where you can sip crisp, aromatic whites and mineral-rich reds from vineyards cooled by the Black Sea breeze, the perfect pairing to the seafood, and an experience that’s still off most travelers’ radars.
I’d also recommend Varna Winekend, a yearly festival celebrating local wines, with some awesome foodie bites as well, a perfect way to taste the region and soak in the local vibe.
From Dishwasher to Leader, From Chaos to Clarity
Humans Of The Kitchen
How struggle and sobriety gave Brother Luck the strength to lead with purpose.
Brother Luck
I’ve been in kitchens since I was fourteen. My first job was as a dishwasher in a steakhouse, where I was thrown into the chaos at a young age. It was loud and unrelenting, like stepping onto a pirate ship. And I loved it. That first steak sandwich they fed me for dinner sealed it: if I stayed in this industry, I’d never be hungry again.
I didn’t dabble in other careers. This has always been my path. Culinary school gave me the foundation, but life, travel, and the people I met educated me. Cooking isn’t just about technique; it’s about culture and tradition. It’s about listening, learning, and carrying those lessons with you into every dish you prepare.
I didn’t even see the obstacles in my early cooking days. I was too busy being a sponge. Everything was new, everything was a lesson. Somewhere along the way, I was told that cooking was a connection to the ghosts of our past. That stuck with me. It’s why I cook the way I do, to chase my story, my ethnicity, my roots. Food is memory.
My philosophy is simple: keep it honest, keep it yours. Who are your people? Where are you from? What inspires you? That’s the story you should be telling on the plate. I lead from the front. I mop floors, wash dishes, and cook on the line because no one in my kitchen is “too good” for anything.
Sobriety is a big part of my story. I’ve been carried by the voices of others in this industry who opened up about their struggles. They gave me the courage to face my own, and now I share my journey so someone else knows they’re not alone.
I measure success by the people around me. Opening my own restaurants allowed me to create jobs and provide employment. Watching my city grow with the talent that’s come through my kitchen is my proudest achievement.
Though there’s a lot in this industry that needs to change, I’m frustrated by the celebrity chef culture. Too many people are chasing fame instead of craft.
I believe that restaurants can be places of connection. Places where the community gathers. Not everything needs to be an Instagram moment. Sometimes it’s just about appreciating the care, the work, the love that went into a meal. That’s the future I want to fight for. One where food is respected, kitchens are healthy, and the ghosts of our past live on through every dish.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
I used to run a wild game restaurant and worked with a lot of exotic meats. Kangaroo was fun and unique, and it encouraged me to continue trying things that weren’t indigenous to the country I live in.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Sour cream and onion Pringles.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Overpriced table-sized steak presentations with sparklers. It’s absolutely stupid.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I used to work at a resort next to SeaWorld, and every summer, we would be overwhelmed by all the guests after the final performance finished. It was brutal, and you knew you had 10 minutes after the fireworks ended.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I would just sweat through my “paper toque” and keep my team moving. Those were some intense services.
- 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?
Find comfort in who you are and chase what inspires you. Find the food that truly resonates with you and pursue it wholeheartedly.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Dashi. The depth of flavor it provides to dishes is amazing. I love adding it to moles.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Our blue cornbread. It represents everything about my region in the four corners of the United States.
About Your City!
Colorado Springs, CO
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
We would begin with green chili over a breakfast burrito right outside the farm where they grow the chilies. We would then explore the hiking and natural landscapes of Colorado Springs, such as the Garden of the Gods or Pikes Peak. I would suggest spending some time with our Olympians, as this is an Olympic city, and most of them train here at high elevation.
We would tour a few of the Colorado whiskey distilleries and showcase what they do, then, of course, we would have dinner at my restaurant to cap it all off.
The Most Important RSVP Is for the Team
Humans Of The Kitchen
From the heavy-metal chaos of his first kitchens to the lessons of the great ones, he now leads a family-driven Kojin by putting people first.
Pedro Hansel Mederos
I grew up in Miami, but the spark for cooking came from traveling with my family. Miami didn’t have much of a food scene back then, so when we went to places like Chicago or California, I was blown away. I remember watching my mom’s face light up when she tried something new. It made me realize how powerful food could be.
At first, I worked in kitchens for free just to learn, but I also held sales jobs to pay the bills. Funny enough, sales turned out to be one of the best things I could’ve done. It taught me how to communicate, how to explain my vision, and how to connect with people.
Eventually, I went to CIA Greystone in Napa Valley, but honestly, every restaurant I worked in was its own classroom. My first kitchen was absolute chaos, heavy metal blasting, chefs screaming, the kind of heat that could break you. But it also made me ask, “What if this could be done differently?” That thought stuck with me, and that’s what I try to create at @kojinmiami, an environment where we can all work in peace and have a few laughs along the way.
My biggest struggle early on was speed. I wasted time watching others instead of just focusing on my own station. Someone finally told me, “Keep your head down, do your work, and you’ll learn everything you need.” Once I found that rhythm, things started clicking.
Through it all, my wife, Katherine, and our son, Jameson, are what keep me going. Katherine is right beside me in the kitchen on tough nights, and Jameson reminds me why I do this: to live an honorable life by feeding others.
One moment that defined how I see this industry happened at SingleThread. I was cutting citrus supreme, and Chef Josh Lanning just looked at me and asked how I was doing. That simple question hit me. It reminded me that as chefs, our role is to nurture, not just guests, but our teams too. From that day, I promised myself I’d lead with kindness.
For me, hospitality begins with my staff. The minute they walk through the door, they’re my first and last guests. If I can take care of them, with respect, good tools, and quality ingredients, our diners will always feel that same care.
The achievements I’ve received in my career wouldn’t be possible without my team, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do what we love together every day. The Michelin Guide recognizing us is a massive milestone for us, and receiving a Whet Pallet award is honestly really close to my heart as well.
This industry has a long way to go, especially when it comes to mental health. I hope to be part of changing that through groups like the Southern Smoke Foundation’s Behind You initiative, which offers free mental healthcare for hospitality workers. Because if we don’t care for the people in this business, nothing else will survive.
Looking forward, I want to see small, independent restaurants celebrated more. They’re the heart of every community after all. At Kojin, we’re working on closed-loop projects, finding second lives for byproducts from our kitchen, cafés, and breweries nearby.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Copoazu, when we did a collaboration dinner with the team from X.O. Medellin. It made me realize that I still have so much to discover and learn.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Flanagan’s Caesar no croutons add bacon bits, firecracker shrimp with garlic bread, half rack of ribs, and ten wings (ALL FLATS) with a shot of Jameson and a Coor’s Banquet.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
All of them.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
It was for a food festival that shall remain nameless. We had to do 2500 portions of a dish. We worked a complete brunch and then dinner service. Afterwards, we finished the 2500 portions for the food festival. We spent 30 hours in the restaurant that shift.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Honestly, we have a fantastic kitchen team and we spent this night into early morning showing each other funny YouTube videos and laughing uncontrollably, we still aren’t sure if the videos were that funny or if it was just pure delirium at that point.
- 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?
Know what your center is and figure out your core values and principles. Once you know those things, you can tell when you’re in the right kitchen and where you will grow, and you’ll also know when to move on. Also, find a Mentor, one that will be with you forever. Support systems in this field are key.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Shio Kombu, people know Kombu for dashing, but to add a touch of depth and texture to a dish, there is nothing better. Shio Kombu is just so misunderstood.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Our French onion Chawan Mushi is indescribable.
About Your City!
Miami, USA
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
Breakfast would be at Tina’s in the Gables, a quick stop at the Legion Park Farmers Market to see what’s happening locally, coffee tonic at Emissary Cafe, lunch at Chug’s Dinner, early dinner at Zitssum, drinks and a late bite at Ariete.
The Starter Never Dies
Humans Of The Kitchen
From music to bakeries, from an injury to pop ups, one thing stayed alive in every chapter: the dough.
Julian Gheiler
Miami
I didn’t necessarily expect to make a life in the culinary world.
After growing up in Miami, I moved to Chicago to study music business. I came back for the summer when I was 19 and got my first job in the industry: bar and dessert at Gigi. I was terrible and it was brutal. I didn’t have the speed or urgency required to handle plating all the desserts and making all the drinks in the restaurant. But I really did enjoy the dessert part of the job. The pastry chef would show me each morning how she wanted me to present each plate and I would feel really proud of my work, often posting pictures of plates to the new app “Instagram”.
I spent the rest of my college years working at a catering company in Chicago before moving back to Miami and having a good go at making a life in the music industry. I was an intern at the III Points office, worked production at the New World Symphony Center, and later moved to New York to work at a booking agency.
The baking bug got me while I was at the Symphony Center. One night after a late event, I ended up on the Wikipedia page for the shortbread cookie. The first line of the page was “a traditional Scottish biscuit usually made from one part white sugar, two parts butter and three to four parts plain wheat flour.” I had all of those ingredients in my pantry in that moment, so I threw spoonfuls of each in a mug, mixed them up, and put the mixture in the oven. To my amazement, what came out was an actual shortbread cookie. I was hooked from then on.
Around that same time, I got obsessed with making matcha cream puffs. It’s a really technically advanced pastry, people spend years getting it right. I tried it one day and completely failed. Tried again the next day. Failed again. I kept trying every day for like four or five days until I finally made one that worked. That moment really stuck with me. I realized I had never wanted something that bad before. Never worked that hard for a result. And that’s when I first thought: maybe I could be a baker one day.
I got my “dream job” at a booking agency in New York but in reality I was getting paid $1,600 for 35 hours a week, living in Brooklyn. That wasn’t going to work. So I picked up a job at a falafel shop while still working at the agency. I was doing four days at the office, two or three at the shop. And at the falafel spot I did everything, front of house, back of house, making food, serving customers. It was probably my first real back-of-house experience. But even then, all I could think about was bread. I wasn’t going out, I wasn’t seeing friends, it was just me and the dough. I was baking sourdough every single day, and while everyone at the office was talking about new albums, I was sitting there thinking about the dough I had in my fridge.
I started selling challahs and babkas I would bake at home. My manager at the falafel shop even sold them at work. I started to realize that I was wasting my time trying to force something that didn’t fit anymore. So I decided to stop fighting against my desire and ride the wave. I quit my jobs to go to bread school in Barcelona.
But before I went to Barcelona, I returned home to Miami for the summer. This was 2019. I went to several bakeries handing out my resume, asking if I could just come in and learn. The only one that said yes was True Loaf in South Beach. I learned so much there. I would work the front in the morning and stay after my shift to learn bread and pastry production. I would take croissant scraps and make babka with them. After several weeks, I convinced the owner, Tomas, to sell babkas at the shop. By the end of the summer I was getting paid to make bread, and it felt amazing.
I learned considerably less in the two-month program I did at the Barcelona Baker’s Guild. For all the theoretical knowledge you can learn in an academic environment, nothing compares to actually working at a bakery every day. And as I realized later, the bakery I had worked at was world-class in terms of quality. The school was very traditional — old-school Catalan techniques. The only thing I really got out of it was learning how to make pan de cristal.
I ended up working at a couple bakeries while abroad, but at this point we were deep in the pandemic. I yearned for my family and friends back home, and True Loaf needed a new baker. Coming back seemed like a no-brainer.
I came back to a job that involved arriving at 4 a.m., doing the morning bake, and mixing all the dough. It took some time to adjust to this level of responsibility, but I managed it. I later got to a point at True Loaf where I was basically living my dream. I was shaping all the bread, and we’d hired someone who I’d taught to do all my mixing. I didn’t even have to come in at 4 a.m. anymore. And best of all, I was making some really incredible products.
One Sunday I went to play soccer, as I was doing every week back then. I got hurt. I felt something in my knee and feared the worst. But I managed to keep playing and figured I had just pulled a muscle, so I went to work as normal the next week. After a couple weeks though, I wasn’t feeling any better. A couple more weeks passed and I was barely limping through my work days. At some point I had to pull up a stool to shape breads, a big no-no in kitchens. After six weeks my dad convinced me to get a scan and I discovered that I’d been working on my feet with a fracture in my knee. My perfect little life was done.
I had to take several months for recovery and physical therapy. Tomas promised me he’d keep my job for me when I recovered, and he was true to his word. I went back to work at the bakery but I could only do a few hours at a time. My body couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to find something else to do, so I did what any Miamian would do in that situation: I got a real estate license.
But as is often the case, it never really worked out for me. I never liked it, and felt embarrassed telling people that I was a realtor. My friends (who were all servers and bartenders and DJs) weren’t exactly lining up to buy a house. I had a couple good months but it was mostly a period of bad financial instability. I still baked bread at home every day, and sometimes I would sell some on my Instagram story when I really needed money.
One day, my friend Callie Pumo (a brilliant baker in Miami) asked me to do a bake sale with her at what was then Paradis. That little event would end up changing my life. After that first pop-up, my friend Ale invited me to sell food at his night at The Corner. This turned into a regular thing. I started getting booked for more and more events. It got to the point where food pop-ups truly became my main hustle. It wasn’t the easiest way to live, but I was doing my own thing on my own terms. The best part of the pop-up life was how deeply I felt connected to my community. I met so many people at events that I worked.
After almost two years of making a living from mostly nighttime events, I found myself really yearning for the bread and pastry that I had spent so many years learning. So when my friend Numan Hall reached out to me about doing something at the vacant Paradis space, I knew it was the perfect opportunity. Together with him and BLK BRW, we were able to put together a collective that made a perfect symbiosis of our various skill sets. A place where the coffee is as important as the pastries, and the food will teach you about places you’ve never heard of. And it’s in the same place where I did that first pop-up with Callie. That’s kinda poetic.
Baking every day has become my rhythm. I love how fermentation transforms the dough without me doing anything, how I can leave something overnight and come back to it completely changed. I think that’s part of why I kept coming back to it. Baking is different. It’s early mornings, not late nights. You’re not surrounded by alcohol or that constant edge of burnout energy kitchens have. I’ve seen cooks rely on things just to get through service, but that would be weird at 6 a.m. in a bakery. When I finish my shift and the sun is still up, I don’t feel like drinking. I just feel calm.
I’ve had the same sourdough starter for seven years now. The person I got it from said it came from France, 200 years ago. I brought it with me to Barcelona and back. People think sourdough is hard to keep alive, but it’s not. It just wants to live.
Cover and food photography by Nick Murray @neauxcream
Interview and black-and-white photos by @hotkstudios
Becoming the Chef She Needed
Humans Of The Kitchen
Dismissed as “too small, too different,” she carved her own way from peeling veg to running her own kitchen.
India Doris
I grew up in London, where Sundays were sacred in my house. In the UK, a traditional Sunday roast typically includes roast chicken, beef, or pork served with potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, and all the trimmings. But in my Jamaican grandmother’s kitchen, it was a little different. We’d have jerk chicken or oxtail alongside the traditional sides, sometimes with rice and peas. These meals were about gathering together, talking, and laughing around the dinner table. That’s where my love for cooking began.
I’ve never really considered another career. When I was younger, I enjoyed running track, but nothing made me feel the way cooking did. But culinary school wasn’t an option for me because we couldn’t afford it. So at 15, I went to a town away from my own and walked into a restaurant to beg the chef for a job. That’s how I got my foot in the door.
My first kitchen job was all over the place, peeling vegetables, picking herbs, putting away deliveries, washing dishes, and cleaning stations after service. I was working 18-hour days, six days a week, making about 300 pounds a month, and living on my own by the time I was 16. It was exhausting, but it taught me resilience.
People doubted me in those early years. I was “too small,” “too different.” No one really wanted to teach a little teenage girl how to be part of the team. Instead of letting it discourage me, I used it as fuel. I watched everyone, tasted dishes when no one was looking, and drew sketches of station setups in my notebook long before smartphones existed. I learned by being observant, curious, and determined.
My philosophy in the kitchen is simple: I’m here to throw dinner parties every night. My favorite memories are of my family sitting together, eating and talking with no phones or TV, just connection. My grandma hosted those meals and took pride in them, and I want to create that same feeling for the people I cook for.
The kitchen has been my safe place in more ways than one. In my late teens and early twenties, when I couldn’t afford groceries, my chef let me come in on my day off to eat the family meal and take home basic ingredients. That generosity helped me get through some tough months.
Opening my own restaurant, @marketterestaurant, is one of my proudest achievements. It gave me the chance to take everything I’ve learned, the precision and attention to detail from fine dining, the flavors I grew up with, and combine them into something that’s mine.
For me, cooking has always been about more than what’s on the plate. It’s about bringing people together, the way my grandmother did every Sunday, and creating a space where everyone feels welcome.
I run my kitchen like a pirate ship filled with people from different places, with different stories and personalities. Diversity is important to me, not just for the creativity it brings to the food, but for the richness it adds to the team.
One thing I hope to see more of in the industry is women in leadership roles. I didn’t work for a female chef until I was 14 years into my career, and that needs to change. I want to make sure the next generation doesn’t have to wait that long to see women leading from the front.
Photo credits to @thenatalieblack
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Not an ingredient but an area of the kitchen. I spent a couple of years working in pastry, and it taught me so much about individual ingredients and how to use them properly, which translated when I moved back to savory.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Carbonara Buldak noodles.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Putting caviar and Truffles on everything. There’s a time and a place, it doesn’t need to be on every course! I love both just appropriately.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I had an allergic reaction one time. My whole face and body swelled up like a balloon. I went to the hospital and was put on the drip for a couple of hours. I pulled out the IV drip and ran back to work just in time for service.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
I ate a fig.
- 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?
Be patient and don’t rush your career. Take the time to learn and travel!
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Sour Cream! Better than crème fraiche.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Peri Peri Chicken
Salt Cod Fritters
Oxtail Gratin
About Your City!
London
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
- Fish, Wings and Tings – Caribbean food
- Dishoom – for breakfast, Indian/English Breakfast (The big Bombay)
- Any of Jackson Boxer’s restaurants
Community as the Main Course
Humans Of The Kitchen
The win isn’t a title, it's helping someone find their place at the table, in the kitchen.
Adam Walsh
There wasn’t a dramatic epiphany where I knew I wanted to be a cook when I was a child, but I was surrounded by food that felt like magic. My great-grandma lived a few doors down and made the kind of bread—slathered in butter, sprinkled with salt, baked till golden—that you never forget. She’d hand-roll tortillas until her hands couldn’t anymore, and the whole family treated a dozen like treasure. I’d watch Molto Mario in the mornings Iron Chef Japan at night with my uncle, not knowing anything about food, just that I liked it. Mac and cheese from the Blue Box and Jiffy Cornbread were my comfort zone. And honestly, they still are.
In high school, I worked at the mall to save up enough money for gas and to party on the weekends. But somewhere in the middle of flipping channels one lazy afternoon, I noticed that all I ever stopped to watch were cooking shows. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but I think part of me did.
When it came time to figure out college, I told my parents I wasn’t going. I’d take classes at the local community college, sure, but I wasn’t interested in school. That conversation didn’t go well. I did a couple of classes and then enrolled in the lottery system for the junior college’s culinary program. I was the last ticket drawn, but that wasn’t the last time I’d be pulling something improbable off.
The program was a whirlwind, truncated to a year. The day I graduated, I just kept thinking: What’s next? Who is the best or most exciting restaurant in the area? I’d find them. Work for them. I told every chef the same thing: “I’m here to steal everything you’ve got—even the salt shakers.” They didn’t have salt shakers, but they understood I was hungry to learn and grow.
I moved around a lot early in my career, typically staying at each place for about two years. I believed that if I couldn’t learn everything within that timeframe, it meant either I had failed them or they had failed me. Eventually, I left one kitchen because the chef was using recipes from someone else’s cookbook. The next place I applied to was run by the chef from that book, motivated by the desire to prove to the previous chef that his belief I could never work for him was only in his mind, not mine. This experience made me realize that I can and should constantly strive to grow and improve.
The first real kitchen job I got wasn’t glamorous. I was making nachos and mini hot dogs, as well as shucking oysters. But the chef took a chance on me. Told me if I showed up six hours early every day, he’d teach me how to break down fish, make sauces, cook dishes—really run a kitchen. I did it every day. I stayed. I listened. Eventually, I became his sous chef. That guy taught me more than just food. He told me: “Big shield, big back. Protect your team. Build an army wherever you go because the people you invest in now will be the ones who come back and save your ass later.” I carry that with me everywhere.
I didn’t speak much Spanish when I started. My great-grandmother tried to teach me as a kid, but it never stuck. In my first kitchen, that language barrier kept me isolated. One day, I asked my station partner to speak to me only in Spanish. Word got around, and suddenly, everyone started teaching me. Now, I speak it every chance I get in the kitchen, sometimes to surprise people who don’t know and other times as a more effective way to make a point.
I didn’t know how to manage my emotions at first. I was a twenty-one-year-old Sous Chef trying to command cooks much older and more experienced than I was and had to learn quickly that respect and trust are earned. Those are only the beginnings of being a great leader or chef, though. I still knew I was quick to get frustrated and often led with aggressive behavior towards younger cooks, who I felt didn’t care as much as I did. Slowly, I began to adopt a “rhyme with reason” approach to leadership. Stop and examine the entire scenario, then adjust your emotions to fit the situation and coach with the “why” in mind, ensuring you explain your reasoning. I’m calmer now, and it’s helpful when I’m in kitchens where I may be a Chef de Partie but often have to do the job of a Sous or even an Executive Chef at times and still get passed over for promotions or opportunities. My purpose of being there isn’t to earn a title; it’s to teach and grow those around me whenever possible.
I lead by teaching. I’ve always said, this industry has been my paid education, so the least I can do is pass that on. I taste everything. I make my team taste everything. Build flavor memory. That’s what makes food good, not fancy terms or expensive ingredients. It’s the repetition. The intuition.
I’m inspired by those I’ve worked beside or helped mentor in any way. Seeing people who couldn’t appropriately dress and plate a salad become recognized by Michelin, or seeing those who couldn’t fry an egg become strong leaders for hotel groups, or even seeing guys who were just prep cooks when I knew them end up being successful chefs and restaurant owners. I am team food. Whenever I see someone carving their own path in this crowded space and succeeding, I applaud them, which makes me hopeful and motivates me to keep working harder.
I don’t cook to show off. I cook to feel. To remember. I love to create playful food that makes people smile—something that reminds them of a cheap take-out dish or a weird dish they loved as a kid. But behind the playfulness is technique. Layers. Depth. I want the flavor to hit hard and the story to linger.
The kitchen has pulled me through some dark shit. I’ve crashed on coworkers’ couches during breakups. I’ve leaned on old chefs when I was burned out or second-guessing myself. There’s a particular kind of comfort only back-of-house people understand. We don’t always talk about it, but it’s there.
There have been moments that meant everything. Like cooking at Rustic Canyon with Jeremy Fox. Cooking for Thomas Keller without knowing he was at the table. But nothing beats the night my parents came to eat at the restaurant. I was running the pass. Sent out extra snacks. Watched them smile from the kitchen. Took photos with them at the table after. That feeling? I’ll never forget it.
There’s a lot I love about this industry—the chaos, the camaraderie, the adrenaline. I love that moment after a packed service when the staff goes out for drinks, decompresses, and laughs until their faces hurt. But I worry too. I see new cooks relying on YouTube and skipping the more challenging aspects. And sure, you can learn a lot online—but you miss the soul of it. The part where someone shows you how to fix a sauce by feel, or teaches you a crust that should sound a certain way when it’s right.
I hope we don’t lose the mom-and-pop spots. I hope food stays accessible. I hope we stop chasing awards and start building communities. That we support each other—by reposting a friend’s dinner, buying someone’s merch, and hyping their pop-up. I try to live that way. I only serve Transparentsea Farm shrimp, and I connect my dinners to local people doing good work. I invite anyone to collaborate. I want people to feel seen.
At the end of the day, I want to share good food in a backyard with people who leave feeling a little lighter. If I can help someone get their foot in the door or feel like they belong, that’s a win. The fire, the flavor, the company—that’s what it’s always been about.
To everyone who’s ever had my back—thank you. I’m still learning. I have a place for all of you, and I promise I will pay it forward.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Bitter melon. It made me realize that some ingredients just don’t taste good.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
The iconic yellow paper burger joints, like “Louis III” serving burgers with shredded lettuce. A double cheeseburger, no tomato, side yellow chilis, and pastrami fries or chili cheese fries.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Putting anything in a tortilla and calling it a taco.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Mother’s Day brunch with 1500 covers.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
The pastry chef walked out mid-brunch out of the back, and no one said anything to me about it. We subbed another person trained in pastry who was working on omelets to help, and then switched players again to have a prep cook make omelets while I continued to put out fires. The dining room drain backed up at the end, a drunk guest clogged the guest bathroom, and one dishwasher had an altercation with another at one point. It was a mess.
- 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?
Take time for yourself. Find chefs you admire and consider working for them. Don’t lower your standards for anyone. Lead with integrity and always support and respect your team. Never go backwards. Don’t be afraid to ask. Hold yourself higher than those around you, it speaks more than you’ll have to. Drink water.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Bay leaf. Take a glass of water steeped with a bay leaf and one without. It truly adds to anything it’s in. Even if it’s subtle, it plays a part in building flavor.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
I like this chicken ballotine I made for my wife’s birthday. I brined a whole chicken, deboned the entire thing, kept the skin intact, and made a farce of the leg and thigh, a duxelles of advieh-spiced Long Beach mushrooms and garlic, wrapped it all back in its own skin, then cooked sous-vide. Then I made a very rich chicken stock with roasted bones and feet and reduced it from 2 gallons to about a pint. When it was time to eat, I seared all sides and basted it in Maison Bordier butter, then served it with sautéed mushrooms, spring peas, and asparagus dressed in lemon. It was one of the most humble and delicious things I’ve made. I also have a soft spot for my lazy bread. It’s a sourdough/levain bread with no starter or fuss. It has a sourdough flavor throughout the proofing and is pretty forgiving in terms of ferment time. I think it stands with some of the best in the city.
About Your City!
Long Beach, California
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
I think forcing Anthony Bourdain to do some yoga on the bluffs is pretty Long Beach-y. Go to breakfast at Chuck’s Coffee Shop. Sit at the counter. Lunch at Phnom Penh Noodle Shack. Drive over to Ferris Bueller’s house and see how different that neighborhood is.
Dinner at Chiang Rai or La Parolaccia Osteria. Chef Michael at La Paroloccia is carrying on his father’s legacy while elevating it, all while remaining humble. Go to Harvelles at night for some strange burlesque show would be fun. We’d have to stop by Tacos La Carreta somehow at night as well. We’d figure it out.
From Puri, India To Michelin-starred restaurants
Humans Of The Kitchen
Cooking to Honor His Roots and Grandfather’s Legacy.
Pratik kumar Parida
My grandfather used to run a catering business in Kolkata. After every event, he’d come home with leftovers, I’d sit beside him, listening to his stories of hustling through the city, of starting from nothing, of cooking because he had to, but also because he loved it.
That’s how it started for me. Not in a restaurant kitchen, not through cookbooks or culinary schools, but through those quiet, personal moments. My mother’s home cooking. My father’s Sunday meals. The smell of spice, the rhythm of a pan, the joy of feeding the people you love. No one in my family had a culinary degree, but food was always the heartbeat of our home.
At first, my father wanted me to be an engineer. And I tried. But I knew that it wasn’t for me. By 2014, I had stepped into my first professional kitchen. I was 20. And I got hit with reality fast: 16–17 hour shifts, 21 days straight. It was exhausting, relentless, and humbling. But I still treasure those days. Because that’s when I realized I belonged here.
I consider myself very fortunate to have been influenced by many mentors, worked in numerous kitchens, and collaborated with inspiring colleagues. I remember staging at Per Se for the first time. The sheer precision. The way every inch of that kitchen breathed discipline. That moment raised the bar for me. It showed me what excellence could look like. I caught a glimpse of Chef Thomas Keller that day. Total fanboy moment, but more than that, a reminder that dreams can be real if you grind hard enough.
Today, I’m the Executive Sous Chef at @saga_nyc, a two-Michelin-starred restaurant. And while that title means something, I’m still that same kid from Puri, Odisha. A place most people in the industry haven’t even heard of. That’s part of why I keep pushing. Because I’m not done, this isn’t the end goal. It’s a milestone. There’s still so much more I want to build.
My cooking is emotional. I admire the French technique. I respect tradition. But more and more, I find myself returning to my roots, Odia flavors, my mother’s recipes, my grandfather’s stories. I cook to remember them. To honor them. They’re gone now, but their love for food lives in everything I do.
I’ve worked through grief. I’ve buried myself in prep and plating to feel okay. And I’ve leaned on the kitchen as both a battlefield and a sanctuary. The camaraderie saved me more than once. Cooking didn’t heal the void, but it gave me purpose when I needed it most.
What I love about restaurants is the symphony, the flow, the energy, the unspoken rhythm. But we still have work to do. Pay systems need reform. Back-of-house staff deserve to share in the rewards. I know it’s controversial. But fairness shouldn’t be.
After COVID, our industry was tested. But it’s resilient. And in this age of AI, I still believe one thing: machines can’t cook with emotion. They can’t replicate the soul. And that’s something we can’t afford to lose.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: The journey builds your character, not the destination. So enjoy it. Embrace the chaos. And never stop cooking from the heart.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
A couple of years back, I had been given a project with foie gras, which I made into a Savory semifreddo terrine. In my lifetime, I would have never imagined that I would make something like that. I had a taste profile in my head, but no clue what I was making. Eventually, that went into the menu of SAGA, and it was one of the best dishes that I came up with. That dish changed my perspective on looking at things out of the box.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
If I don’t feel like cooking, I just order Domino’s pizza. Not for taste, but it’s easy and filling.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Hate is a very strong word for me, cooking is hard and not a lot of people understand that, so whoever is cooking or trying to cook their way out with trend, I support them, so no hate to any trend, just don’t get people sick, that’s all.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
As said before, 21 days straight, 16-17 hours daily.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
As I can remember, I was going through a rough patch with one of my ex-girlfriends, and it happened to be that exact time that we broke up. I was sad, but I had no time to process that part because I was working like crazy. Later, I was hurt, but again, thanks to the kitchen, my pain and joy both merged together.
- 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?
As Chef James used to say, “f$ck around and find out.” I would say the young cooks and chefs should invest in the basics, don’t take shortcuts, and just hang in there. The restaurant industry can be brutal, but there is no greater feeling than overcoming the obstacles, so never give up and always march forward.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
It has to be lentils, I haven’t seen a lot of applications, but trust me, it’s versatile.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
There have been a lot of dishes, but one of them has to be the pork char sui dish that I developed at SAGA in 2023.
About Your City!
Puri, Odisha
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
I was born in Odisha but grew up in Kolkata, a city renowned for its influential culture and delicious food. Coffee House and Arsalan are must-visit places for anyone looking to enjoy the local cuisine. Additionally, Shyambazar and Esplanade offer some great food options that you should definitely try. I was also lucky enough to visit Lucknow, which is another prime hub for Indian food.
Rising Beyond the Oven
Humans Of The Kitchen
A story about baking, breaking, healing—and leading with purpose.
Carlos Perez
I was seven when I baked my first batch of cookies. My mom stood over me, walking me through the steps—how to read a recipe, how to fold the dough just right, how to pull them out of the oven before they burned. That was it. I was hooked.
I read my way through every cookbook she had in the kitchen, tried hundreds of recipes, and eventually started a job at a bakery when I was 13 years old. I never had another job outside this industry.
My parents were artists. They ran an art studio, taught classes daily, and I absorbed all that. Subconsciously, that influenced my decision to become a chef. I wanted to be an artist—just with a different medium.
The French Culinary Institute in NYC came later. By the time I got there, I had years of experience, and it just facilitated the learning. So many of the recipes we made in school, I had already made a dozen times over, but the school gave me more insight into the science. I gravitated toward it: the why behind the rise of dough, the structure of laminated pastry.
Eventually, I opened a bakery. Ran it for thirteen years. Somewhere around year six, I felt like I had baked my way through every recipe I could think of. That itch to grow hit hard. So I took online cook and pastry chef jobs at the same time, sometimes holding executive chef roles while still operating the bakery. It was a lot. The constant pressure I put on myself to learn and grow has put a unique flair on the cuisine I cook today. It’s not uncommon to see some pastry influence in my dishes, even if it may be subtle.
Cooking, much like art, is endless. There will always be new ways to create and compose dishes, and thus, my approach to cooking is to continue to learn.
Starting at a young age in a bakery gave me a head start, but it came with both pros and cons. The owners primarily spoke French and were old school. Everything was made from scratch, and perfection was the standard. You had to double-check everything or you’d be dodging a loaf of bread. There was no room for ego, only precision and repetition. It wasn’t glamorous; it involved 4 a.m. shifts, calloused hands, and long hours. But I loved it, and I still do. I felt productive, I was learning, and I was getting paid.
Though I was still a kid in an adult kitchen, lifting 50-pound bags of flour, running on fumes, getting my ass kicked by prep lists. Later, it was the grind—missing holidays, pulling doubles, sacrificing any kind of normal schedule. But I kept my head down and thought about the bigger picture: where I wanted to go, who I wanted to become.
I’m 38 years old now. My body has adjusted to the “exercise” of this work. But it’s still the people who keep me here. Food can bring people together to create positivity, whether you’re cooking it or eating it.
My parents were my biggest inspirations. My father passed away last year at 99. He had this unbelievable life: fought in the Cuban Revolution, escaped to the U.S., toured Europe with a band, and opened an art studio where he met my mom. My mom is a force of her own—stern, loving, tireless. Everything I am, I owe to them.
And then there’s everyone else—the line cooks, the dishwashers, the servers, the chefs who shared their stories. I’ve battled my own depression, and it was cooking—and the people around me—that pulled me out. That’s why we started the annual Anthony Bourdain Suicide Prevention Dinner. We began small in 2018, and last year we raised over $20,000. It’s the most meaningful thing I’ve ever done.
One night I’ll never forget was at the Palace Theater in Waterbury, pre-COVID. I cooked a wine dinner for 250 people. Chef Jerry Reveron invited me. We had a quiet moment backstage where he told me to share my passion. That young chefs like me gave him hope. He didn’t know it, but I had studied his menus growing up. He passed away from COVID not long after. I hold that conversation close.
Now, in my kitchen, I try to lead by example. Mop the floors. Jump into the dish pit. Break down the science of why we do things. Create a space where people want to show up, not just because they have to, but because they belong. We as chefs are nothing without our teams, and the only way we can get to the next level is if the team works together.
This industry has always been a judgment-free zone to me—a place where anyone, from anywhere, could rebuild themselves. But we’ve also inherited toxic habits: glorifying burnout, normalizing shitty hours, living on coffee, alcohol, and whatever’s left on the plate. That has to change.
I want the industry itself to be more sustainable in the future. I’m hoping the labor force will grow, and once again we’ll have more people coming into the industry than leaving it, which unfortunately has not been the case recently. To attain this, there has to be a better work-life balance, more understanding of the pressures of the industry (as well as life), and resources to help combat them. We have to support our peers, improve communication with our teams, and motivate each other so we can all grow as individuals, which ultimately will progress and strengthen our industry.
I’m working on myself, too—physically, mentally, and supporting my team, taking inventory of my habits, checking in with others. That’s the kind of industry I want to see grow. One where we take care of people the same way we take care of the food. One where we don’t just survive the grind, but build something sustainable and worth passing on.
And if this resonates with you, join us.
This year’s Anthony Bourdain Suicide Prevention Dinner is happening Monday, October 20. Come share a meal that means something. Tickets are available at bourdaindinner2025.eventbrite.com.
Also, check out the 86 Challenge on August 6—another step toward prioritizing our mental health in this industry.
And if you can, consider donating to your local chapter of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Every bit helps.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
Fresh duck, and I mean fresh. Early in my career at one restaurant, a local hunter brought in a set of ducks he had just shot, literally completely out of the blue. Seeing the animal changes your whole perspective on our food source and minimizes food waste. Defeathering the birds, breaking them down, and cooking them, the entire experience felt completely different than any other time I had done it. You take the utmost care and precision to do things the right way, to minimize waste. I remember reading in one of Thomas Keller’s books that he had a similar story with rabbits.
I specifically went to a local friend’s turkey farm one year to help with slaughter before Thanksgiving. Realizing where your food comes from has a grounding effect; it creates an appreciation that far too often gets lost in the speed of day-to-day life. I think a lot of us need that sometimes.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
Sushi. It’s always my go-to. I don’t know if it’s a guilty pleasure, but at least it’s healthy, and I enjoy spicy, crunchy tuna rolls all day long.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Overcomplicating recipes, adding too many items to the point you can’t distinguish one from another.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Oh God, one shift during COVID when things were opening back up but not back to normal 100% yet. A couple of our line cooks both got sick and called out, which left me and a good friend of mine who we had just hired as a dishwasher. Let it be known that it was one of his first shifts, and he had no restaurant experience; we were short-staffed in both the front and back, so it was not a good time.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
We got destroyed with tickets all day, I mean destroyed. Servers crying in the walk-in, yards of tickets coming out of the printer, a complete mess in the kitchen everywhere… we ended up 86 3/4 the menu, no salad dressings, shaping burgers on the fly, just an absolute horrible service. The grill ended up catching fire from all the burger grease, and finally, we stopped service after dumping a box of salt and a gallon of milk on it. The sales for that day were around 8k. There was a euphoria during COVID, at least it felt that way to me, like every day was going into battle, no one knew what they would be faced with, and I think because of that, every ticket, every order, every customer mattered that much more. At the time, I wasn’t sure if the industry was going to survive, but I sure as hell was going to try my hardest to give our restaurant a fighting chance. That’s what got me through.
- 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?
Protect your personal space, and try to keep a balance in your life. The kitchen is just that, a chaotic place. For all the chaos, you need some peace and calm to balance it out. For me, some time outside helps. Focus on your goals. It’s okay to stray a little bit, but make sure you get back on the path to your own success. And every so often, check yourself, take a deep breath, make sure you feel alive, and take a good, hard look to see if you’re heading in the right direction.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
Miso paste. I use it in so many recipes, it gives a little sweetness, salt & umami all in one. Maple & miso is one of my all-time favorite flavor combinations.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
Honestly, there’s a ton. I change the menu at least 4-6 times a year, and each season has my personal favorite. Right now, for summer, I have to go with the Street Corn Sea Scallop Risotto with cotija & lime. Our jerk chicken is also to die for.
About Your City!
Woodbury, Connecticut
- If Anthony Bourdain or a chef came to your city, what would be the perfect tour itinerary from breakfast to dinner?
So many different places! I love Connecticut because of our food scene, for a state so small, we have so much. Start by checking out the big three pizza spots in New Haven, Pepe’s, Sally’s & Modern. Ordinary for drinks, then over to Mystic for their thriving food scene (Shipwrights Daughter, Port of Call, Oyster Club). Quick stop at the casino because why not? Gastro Park in Hartford for a bite. Millwrights in Simsbury. There are so many places to choose from.
Cooking Through Purpose, Not Pressure
Humans Of The Kitchen
Building a kitchen where well-being and passion coexist.
Carlos R. Alpizar
I was six years old when I learned to cook rice for the first time. That moment ignited a passion in me. I became obsessed with food, enhancing its flavor and experiencing the satisfaction it brings people. To me, cooking is an expression of love and is meant to be shared.
But like so many others, I tried to follow the expected path. I started studying law because it was the “right” choice. But I quickly realized cooking was the only thing I truly wanted to do. With my brother’s support, I found the courage to pursue gastronomy and chase what truly made sense for me.
I studied culinary arts, and through that journey, I met my first mentor, Chef Luis Alarcón. He truly opened my eyes to the vast and beautiful world of gastronomy. Before that, I had a narrow view of cooking, but he taught me to appreciate its depth and endless possibilities.
The first time I stepped into a professional kitchen was while I was still studying, and it was a wake-up call. It showed me how tough and demanding this career can be and how much dedication it requires.
One of my biggest challenges was my ego. I thought I knew everything when, in reality, I was just starting out. A former boss once told me, “You have talent and passion, but your ego is holding you back.” That moment changed my perspective. Fortunately, I met people who helped me realize that mistakes aren’t failures, they are growth opportunities and for refining my craft.
The pandemic nearly broke me. I lost my direction and spark. But I turned inward, reconnected with my craft, and started sharing my journey online. The support I received from the industry, Costa Ricans, and strangers brought me back. It reminded me why I started.
Now, as I work on building my first restaurant, the real journey is just beginning. I want my team to have both a career and a life. The industry glorifies burnout, but that’s not sustainable. A fair kitchen is one where passion and well-being coexist. And above all, I want Costa Rican cuisine to be recognized. Our gastronomy is rich and diverse but often overlooked. Through my work, my food, and my voice, I want to change that.
Secret Sauce
- What’s the most unexpected ingredient you’ve ever worked with, and how did it change your perspective on cooking?
I think it would be escamoles—ant eggs. They’re not commonly seen, but some Indigenous communities collect and eat them sautéed, mixed into rice, or in tortillas. It was one of those experiences that made me realize I wasn’t seeing the whole picture. I wasn’t truly paying attention to my surroundings, my country, its biodiversity, or its history. It was a turning point in my perspective—understanding that Costa Rica’s gastronomy is incredibly diverse. We have ingredients that are either unheard of elsewhere or simply not consumed, yet they are part of our food culture here. That changed the way I see and approach cooking.
- What’s your “guilty pleasure” meal?
When I was a kid, my guilty pleasure was a bowl of rice with ketchup—simple, a little weird, but I loved it. Now, it’s a good cheeseburger with fries and a Coke, usually from a fast-food chain. It’s quick, delicious, and honestly, I just love it. Sometimes, there’s nothing better than that. In Costa Rica, we’d call it a ‘salvatandas’—the perfect lifesaver meal.
- A food trend that you hate and why?
Drenching everything in cheese—like those burgers covered in half a kilo of melted cheese. I just don’t get it. It feels excessive, unnecessary, and honestly, a bit gross. There’s a limit to everything, and one of the phrases I live by in the kitchen is ‘less is more.
- What’s the craziest shift you’ve ever worked in the kitchen? What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
We worked at an electronic music festival in Guanacaste, Costa Rica a few years ago. Our mise en place was done in a school, then transported to the festival site. We had chefs from all over the world cooking for a massive crowd. The location—a finca with a lot of dust and sand—made everything even more intense. The relentless rush of 15 to 20 people ordering at a time never stopped. At first, we didn’t have a clear leader, so we took turns running the kitchen based on the day’s specials. It was pure chaos—starting at 8 AM, finishing at 2 or 3 AM—but also incredible. The energy, the music, the adrenaline of service… exhausting, but unforgettable.
5. What happened, and how did you manage to get through it?
Honestly, it was a mix of pure adrenaline, the festival’s incredible energy, and our fantastic team. We supported each other and figured things out after that first chaotic day, and from there, it became easier—though still exhausting. We made the most of any downtime to rest, and when that wasn’t possible, we ran on coffee, Red Bull, and pure determination. What made it even crazier was that our small kitchen—maybe 10 meters wide by 4 or 5 meters long—was the only place serving food at the entire festival. We had over 15,000 people, and this tiny spot was their only option. It wouldn’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for the knowledge, experience, and teamwork within that crew. But thanks to them—and a lot of Red Bull—we pulled it off.
- 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?
Take care of your physical and mental health. Passion alone won’t get you where you want to be—you need hard work, planning, and clear goals. Breaking big ambitions into smaller steps makes them more achievable. But above all, prioritize your well-being. Understand that nothing in the kitchen is personal. Everyone is under pressure, especially during a rush, and mistakes happen. Once service is over, take a step back and see things for what they were—just the chaos of the moment. Learn to own your words, apologize if needed, and have the maturity to recognize when your reaction wasn’t the best. Growth comes from reflection and constant improvement.
- What’s an underrated ingredient and why?
At least here in Costa Rica, I think the flor de Itabo (yucca flower) is one of the most underrated ingredients. It’s a flower native to Central America with a distinct bitterness that, when handled correctly, can elevate a dish in incredible ways. I’ve tried it in different preparations, and its intensity enhances flavors beautifully. Even though it’s only available for a few months of the year, it’s truly special. I love how its bitterness can be balanced to bring out the best in a dish. I really hope more people start using it.
8. What’s a must-try dish from your kitchen or the one you’re proudest to have prepared?
I’d say lengua de res en leche with almost-burnt tortillas. It’s a dish my grandmother used to make and one of the defining recipes from my maternal side. As far as I know, only two families in Costa Rica still prepare it—one of them being mine. It’s incredibly rich, both in flavor and history. The reason behind its creation, the way it has been passed down, makes it even more special. Everyone I’ve cooked it for has been blown away by it. Having this dish in my repertoire, giving my grandmothers and my family the recognition they deserve, is something I’m truly proud of. And beyond its history, the depth of flavor is just surreal.
About Your City!
San José, Costa Rica
- 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 breakfast at Caféoteca—great coffee, simple and well-done food. Then, I’d head to Mercado Central or Mercado Urbano to dive into Costa Rican culture, explore local ingredients, and see what makes our food unique.
For an afternoon coffee break, I’d stop by Franco for a quick cup of coffee before heading to dinner. To finish the day, I’d take them to Sikwa. Right now, I’d say Sikwa or Conservatorium are two of the best spots in the city, but if I had to pick just one, I’d go with Sikwa.
If they had more time, there are plenty of other great spots to explore, but this would be my ideal itinerary for a one-day trip.
- Recommended Places in your city:
- Food Markets: Mercado Central de San José, Feria del Agricultor de Zapote.
- Dish or food you must try: Queso Pinto con extra de chicharrón (Feria del Agricultor de Zapote).
- Cultural Events: Festival Internacional de las Artes (FIA).
- Neighborhoods: Barrio Amón.
- Popups: Katuk Pop Up.
- Street Food/Food Trucks: Santería Handmade Street Food, Burga.
- Restaurants: Sikwa, Conservatorium.
- Cafes: Caféoteca, Franco.
- Bars: Pocket, Mercado La California.
- Hotel/Hostel: Hotel Grano de Oro.