Brown Butter Dreams

I grew up in Long Beach, the child of first-generation immigrants, and much of my early upbringing was entrusted to my grandmother, who traveled from Aguascalientes, Mexico, to raise me. Some of my most formative memories are at eye level with the kitchen table, watching her hands work with rhythm and intention. The way fresh masa transformed under her touch was mesmerizing, humble ingredients becoming both nourishment and celebration. That table became my first classroom, where food revealed itself not only as sustenance, but as love, culture, and community. Those early lessons continue to shape the tables I create today.

At 17, I began as a dishwasher and worked my way through each station, discovering discipline, rhythm, and purpose along the way. By the age of 24, I became the Executive Chef of 320 Main in Seal Beach, a restaurant highly esteemed by my mentors. I never pursued another career. Cooking was always the path. For a short time, I enrolled in culinary school, but when I learned I was expecting my daughter, I left after a month and chose the kitchens as my classrooms instead. Every plate since then has been intentional: grounded in discipline, adaptability, and the responsibility of fatherhood. Food has never been just a technique for me. It’s been about creating a future, honoring sacrifice, and feeding the community.

I still remember my first time on the line, assisting Chef Andrew Gruel at an event at the Aquarium of the Pacific. The line moved like a dance, silent communication, urgency, precision, not a movement wasted. That rhythm shaped how I move in kitchens to this day. In those early years, the most significant challenges were endurance and balance. I was a young father, working 12+ hour shifts, sacrificing time at home with my newborn. The kitchen became my teacher: pushing me to listen more than I spoke, to move with intention, to adapt quickly. Over time, what once felt impossible became second nature.

Community has always been my anchor. What sustains me, even in the hardest days, is knowing that food is more than a meal; it’s belonging. After years of pursuing French and Italian techniques, one of my mentors, Luisteen González, reminded me to delve deeper into my own heritage. He told me that what I carried in my veins and on my palate couldn’t be bought, replicated, or taught; it had been passed down through the eternal love of my grandmother. That conversation reshaped everything. Today, my food honors those roots while incorporating techniques and flavors from around the world.

My philosophy in the kitchen is rooted in intention, community, and accountability. As Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” A strong kitchen, like a strong team, is built on trust, humility, and the willingness to surrender the “me” for the “we.” As a leader, I strive to elevate those around me, teaching that discipline and resilience matter, but so do empathy and collaboration. Success is not an accident; it is a result of sacrifice, perseverance, and love for the craft. 

Kitchens have given me both craft and family. Long before I had the means to host birthdays or holidays at home, I would share them with staff over meals or on the line. In hard times, that camaraderie reminded me I was never alone, that the bonds forged in heat and pressure can carry you through life’s most difficult seasons.

I’m proud of how far those bonds, that discipline, and that community have taken me. From winning the “Best Steak” award at Chianina Steakhouse to becoming the youngest Executive Chef at Puesto, and from seeing The Brown Butter Boys featured in LB908 Magazine, each milestone has been proof that the impossible becomes possible with resilience and community behind you.

The Brown Butter Boys Supper Club was founded in 2021 as a response to the barriers I observed within the fine dining industry. After years in acclaimed kitchens, it was clear there was a gap between the artistry of cuisine and the accessibility of the experience. We set out to bridge that gap with nine-course hyperseasonal dinners offered at an approachable price, hosted in rotating intimate spaces across Long Beach and beyond. The response was immediate: our first year sold out in two months, and every dinner since then has sold out rapidly. Our guiding principle remains simple and straightforward: for the community, by the community.

What I love most about this industry is the connections I have with guests, farmers, and cooks who become like family. What I find frustrating is the culture of unsustainability that still persists: burnout, toxicity, and environments that prioritize sacrifice over support. With The Brown Butter Boys, I’m building a different kind of model, one that prioritizes freedom, creativity, and joy, proving that hospitality can thrive without sacrificing people.

For me, cooking has always been more than food. It’s about creating spaces where people slow down, connect, and feel cared for. My food reflects both fine-dining training and the comfort flavors of home. The Brown Butter Boys Supper Club bridges those worlds, offering experiences that honor our community while challenging me to grow as a chef. At every table, I carry the spirit of Long Beach with me.

📸 Photo credits to @nadine.photo.art

Location: @wineon2nd