Honoring The Past, Cooking The Future

Most of my childhood memories are around a table.

On weekends, my entire family would gather at my grandparents’ house in Mexico City. My grandparents cooked together, feeding everyone and showing their love through food. They also ran a small cafeteria in a school, and later a restaurant. My mom worked with them, so kitchens and service were always part of my world. I didn’t know it at the time, but my story was already being written in those kitchens.

When it was time to choose a career, I was torn between becoming a lawyer or a chef. My parents sat me down and said, “Whatever you choose, just commit to it, and we’ll support you.” That gave me the push to follow gastronomy.

Culinary school taught me more than recipes and techniques. I learned how to cost dishes, manage a team, and understand what it takes to run a restaurant. But the reality after graduating was tough. Like many young cooks, I quickly realized the pay didn’t match the investment. You have to really love this to stay in it.

My first real job was at Emilio, a Spanish restaurant in Polanco. I started as an intern, but they kept me on. From there, I spent over a decade with a hospitality group specializing in Spanish cuisine. I rotated through different restaurants, working my way up from cook to sous chef. It was non-stop—long hours, catering events, no time for much else. But I was learning, building trust, and becoming someone my team could rely on.

Along the way, I was lucky to have mentors who didn’t just teach me skills, but became close friends. The way they guided me has shaped how I try to lead today.

One of the biggest shifts in my career came when I was offered the chance to open an Italian restaurant, Nera (now Cortile), with Marco Carboni and Atala Olmos. Moving from Spanish-Basque cuisine to Italian Mediterranean was a challenge, but I embraced it. We opened right before the pandemic, which made everything harder, but it was an experience that taught me a lot.

In 2021, life forced me to pause. I lost both my grandparents. We were very close, and their passing made me rethink everything—how I was spending my time, where I was headed. I took some time off, traveled, and reflected. What helped me through that period was the support of my team. They reminded me why kitchens have always felt like a second family to me.

Around that time, I reconnected with Isra, a chef I had met 15 years earlier, who had once given me one of my first jobs. He was now a partner at Zeru Group and invited me to be part of a new project in Miami. I thought about it for a few days, and then said yes.

Coming to Miami was a leap, but it felt right. A group of us from Mexico made the move together, which made it easier. And culturally, Miami still feels very Latin—it feels close to home.

At Zeru, I continue working with Mediterranean flavors, but I always look for ways to bring my Mexican roots into what I cook. I love merging traditions, finding ways for different ingredients and cultures to speak to each other. That’s how you create food with identity.

But what matters most to me now is team culture.

I grew up in kitchens where shouting was normal. That’s just how things were. But today, I choose to lead differently. My co-chef Cristian and I believe in respect. Yes, kitchens are intense, but that doesn’t mean you have to break people down. We focus on teaching, listening, and building each other up. That’s how you build a restaurant that lasts.

This industry is demanding. You miss holidays, family gatherings, important moments. We all know what we signed up for—but I believe we can still make it more human. At Zeru, we cover for each other. If someone needs a day, we find a way. When I started, there was no chance you could ask for a Sunday off. Things are slowly changing, and I’m proud to be part of that change.

Someday, I hope to open my own restaurant. But for now, I treat this one as if it were mine. I show up every day with the same dedication my grandparents had when they cooked for us at home.

That’s where it all started. And that’s still the heart of why I cook.