Chileconmiel

Building out the rows to the huerta that will feed our family this summer. My grandmother gave me a list of seeds she wanted. One of which was flor de chicharo or pea flower.

My uncle and grandfather tilled the soil. Horse manure was mixed in to fertilize. Carmen and Lupe put down seeds in Ama's side garden while Nick put up tomato trellises reinforced with steel wire. My grandfather directed the operation and corrected our methods as per usual.

Spring showers have been good to us so far! 🤞🏽

Natalias Quinceañera

Two lambs were harvested. I arrived a day after so they were already broken down and tucked into giant pots with chiles. Birria and earthy asado de boda were made by Nati's tias who flew in from Valparaíso, Zacatecas to cook.

My grandmother worked the barbacoa which I brought in fresh California bay leaf for. She also made agua de jamaica which I don't recommend schlepping when wearing white pants.

My tia Minga made a gorgeous tiered cake topped with fresh pink roses and baby's breathe. My cousin carmen brought in her dancing horses, one of which was used in the grand entrance. There was live tamborazo and I made about a hundred hot dogs cooked in leftover pork fat with my tia Luz at midnight.

Cooking and learning from Chef Pau of which is an important culinary space created by Chef .levadura

The entire process reminded why I fell in love with cooking. It's in a beautiful setting with a courtyard in which heirloom herbs and ingredients native to Oaxaca are being grown. The produce used is harvested from the chefs family farm not too far from the city.

The experience was a birthday gift to myself and a much needed reminder of how important it is for culinary artists to continue the preservation and evolution of their ancestral practices. A reminder to be involved and in touch with one's heritage and how important it is for strengthening identity and sense of self.

It was inspiring to be in a culinary setting that presented ancestral inspired cuisine with such beauty and pride. Cuisine that was not pretentious and overworked but one that was rich in soul and allowed for the evolution of generational practices.

Thank you .levadura for creating this space and sharing your story and that of Oaxaca. It was an unforgettable experience.

Solo in Oaxaca. Spending an unexpected amount of time in its churches

My relationship with Catholicism was always rocky. I feel more spiritual than religious. I must get this from my grandmother who is very spiritual in her religion. She ends every sentence that involves the promise of her future presence in "si dios quiere" if god is willing. Even if it's just me telling her i'll see her next weekend.

I started wandering into the massive churches whenever I needed to ground myself. Kneeling down and praying to a higher being for the health of my loved ones and clarity to questions that must be answered in these next stages of life, career and purpose.

Solito in Oaxaca ❤️‍🔥

Building pretty things, always

Building pretty things

This is where it all started.

I watched the goats and lamb I helped skin hang upside down from a thick branch of an old pine tree on my grandparents ranch. Blood spilling up their necks onto the dirt which usually meant someone was getting married, just turned 15 or there was a rodeo next door in the arena on my uncle's property.

Here I met the elders who had migrated to California before my grandparents did. Their faces I recall but whose tia or tio they were I never do. With them they brought more relatives I struggled to greet. My Spanish was a mixture of spanglish and terms you'd only hear from Mexicans raised in the countryside during the 40’s like calling baskets chiquihuites. A result of only speaking Spanish to my grandparents. 

I learned how to toast dried chiles on this land and then gut and blend them into sauces using the reddish gold water they had been rehydrated in. I learned to use a shovel, start a fire, ride a horse and drink tequila here. How to make gorditas with canela, aged cheese, sugar and curdled raw cows milk. I collected eggs from fat broody hens that ate the scraps of a Mexican kitchen like the spiked edges of nopales, hearts of roasted serranos and during lent the leftover Mexican bread pudding known as  capirotada that no one wanted. 

If there was a rodeo next door my cousins and I ages 10-15 would be hired to work it. Our job was to round up and control the flow of the 12-15 young steers that would be used in the coleadaero, a traditional sport in Mexican rodeos in which a charro rides a horse alongside a running steer and grabs its tail pulling it to the ground. We were given electric cattle prods and chased the steers into the coral releasing them into the arena at the command of one of our tios. Payment was cash and the amount increased with every empty tequila bottle. Prizes were given to the 20 or so talented charros, mostly family members of ours, depending on how quickly they toppled the steer. The vibrant sashes were placed around their necks by the gorgeous women in our family dressed in traditional charra dresses most likely tailored by my grandmother.

F/W 2025

Teachings...or rather what i'm learning at one of the most influential restaurants in America. Ingredients will tell you how to treat them and this will change based on time and location. Perfection can be achieved through intuitive cooking, presence, constant tasting and excellent produce. The beauty of the spaces we cook in is just as important as the food we cook.

It's safe to say the way I cook and navigate ingredients is transforming in a very special way. I will write about it more in length soon but right now I am very much...in it.