Eat, Drink + Be Merry. Food, Travel, Photography, Design + Music in Los Angeles and Other Parts of the Earth.

For this fourth entry of A Side of Salt, I’d like to introduce Mario Alberto, currently the head chef at the wildly popular, Chimú in Downtown LA, a Peruvian concept with a touch of soul. The past editions of A Side of Salt have dealt with strife, determination and innate talent. And after I had the opportunity to hear Alberto’s story, I’ve learned that the old adage of finding things when you’re not looking yet again proves to be true. If you’ve eaten at the Lazy Ox Canteen, you may have seen him with much longer hair, manning the 800 degree brick oven. As Chef Josef Centeno’s former right hand man, he approaches everything with 100% heart and soul and was very much a pillar for the Laxy Ox kitchen. You may find yourself eating here sooner than later after you read what Chimu is all about. This is the story of Mario Alberto and how soul-searching has led him to cook Peruvian “soul food”.

When Laxy Ox Canteen first opened in December 2009, Jeni and I ran for the tables, for our favorite Los Angeles chef just opened up his first restaurant. We had followed him from his days at Lot 1 Cafe in Echo Park and sadly pondered the day he would re-surface. So this was good news – no this was excellent news. We walked in and ate some of the best tasting food we had in a while. After we chatted with Centeno for a bit, he was flattered that he had followers and we were sent one last dish from the kitchen – the famed rice pudding with caramel sauce. I don’t like desserts, but I loved what I was eating. We thanked Centeno for the dessert but he quickly redirected the compliments to a young man with a dark mustache and long hair. He saw us and waved us down. “I didn’t make it, he did. It’s great stuff. That’s Mario, “ said Centeno. “He cooked with me back at Lot 1.” “We like him already,” we said. And that would be the first of many times we would have Centeno and Alberto’s food.

With his technique and approach to cooking, one would think Alberto attended culinary school. He in fact, did not. Alberto is yet another example of the lengths determination and curiosity can take you. Alberto grew up in Boyle Heights and Huntington Park, and for those that appreciate Mexican food, both cities are meccas for solid food and I believe, is a big contributor to Alberto’s love for food. His career in the culinary industry happened out of necessity, not by chance. As a college student, he attended Long Beach Community College and later transferred to UCLA to pursue film and photography. Like most college students, he needed income. Growing up, he had always been fascinated by Japanese culture – its art, food, city life and the people. He took a job as a line cook at a Japanese restaurant. He was impressed with Japanese technique and how careful and respectful they were of ingredients. As his passion for film and photography lessened, his knowledge and experience in Japanese cuisine strengthened. He soon found himself working at Zu Robata in Santa Monica and then he met Josef Centeno…

Centeno was just re-surfacing after his stint at Opus on Wilshire, but not before leaving his imprint on diners all over Los Angeles. He surprised everyone with a gig at a negligible corner cafe in Echo Park and quickly garnered attention. And Alberto, was his sous chef. Jeni and I went to have a meal there one night and did not expect anything at all because we just wanted something fast and close by. All it took was a simple fried eggplant salad and some beautifully braised beef tongue and our eyes lit up. This food had a certain appeal to it that was best described as soul food and we were instantly fans. Alberto was raised under a single mother and when asked what Centeno meant in his life, he stated that he was a mentor and a brother. This synergy and symbiotic relationship between Centeno and Alberto transferred over to Laxy Ox Canteen a few months later. If you are a fan of Laxy Ox Canteen, you then understand and appreciate true soul food and it is all due to Centeno and Alberto’s relationship. And it is why the restaurant is so successful – there’s feeling to the food.

But during this time, Alberto was going through a very difficult time of his life. On top of the 18 hours a day he put into Laxy Ox Canteen for 2 months straight, he was balancing personal and family issues and he was near exhaustion. Centeno, being a brother and mentor, saw this and encouraged him to go on a hiatus. Alberto had heard about a vine native to the Peruvian, Colombian and Brazilian Amazon called ayahuasca which was ingested in liquid form for divinitory and healing purposes. It is used to address emotional, physical or psychological problems that Western medicine has failed to alleviate. Ingesting this liquid is not by any means recreational as it is a rite of passage. This is a 4-6 hour ordeal that involves self-realization through purging (on both ends), hallucination and Shamanistic ceremonies. While it does sound attractive to recreational drug users on paper, the effects have been positive for those participating in this exhaustive soul-searching. I read a quote that said, “You get these near death experiences,” he says. “And once you see life from the perspective of death, you become a bit more philosophical and have a better sense of what’s important and what’s not.” But making the trek down to the Amazon was more than half the battle. In June 2010, he decided to go down to Peru with Rolando Maldonado, who is a server at Lazy Ox Canteen and currently the manager of Chimu, in search of this ayahuasca vine that promised spiritual enlightenment.

In Peru, they soon found that getting to the Amazon to partake in this ayahuasca ritual was more difficult than they thought and decided to call it all off. But truth be told, the soul searching Alberto was looking for was happening right around him in the city of Lima – through the Peruvian culture, the food, produce and amazing markets through out the city. It was here in Lima that he was inspired by Peruvian cooking and its access to ingredients harvested by indigenous villages and what was offered by the Amazon river and jungles. He was overwhelmed by the 5,000 varietals of potatoes, hundreds of spices, proteins such as cuy (guinea pig) and amazingly fresh seafood. And everyday, he and Rolando would just eat, eat and eat. The more they ate, the more they learned – and the more they found themselves. He had also extended his trip to El Salvador and Guatemala and stated that having experience a tumultuous city like El Salvador, it taught him to appreciate what he had in Los Angeles – which was peace. This was indeed spiritual enlightment for both Alberto and Maldonado.

When Alberto came back to Los Angeles, he emerged as a new man. While most of his personal issues may not have been addressed through the soul searching, he did realize his passion and ideal approach to cooking – Peruvian with a kick of soul. He may not have met the shaman in the Peruvian Amazon but ironically, his shaman appeared in Los Angeles in the form of a 39-year old, long-haired white guy often wielding a Dodgers hat. This shaman goes by the name of Jason Michaud, who is the chef and owner of Local in Silver Lake, who prides himself on cooking only with local ingredients. When we met Rolando Maldonado for the first time, it wasn’t at Lazy Ox Canteen, it was at the Hollywood Farmer’s Market. At that time, he was working for Sage Mountain Farms and was selling produce to restaurants all over Los Angeles, especially to Jason Michaud. They developed a good relationship and Rolando introduced him to Mario. One day after his trip back from Peru, Michaud was talking about opening up a new restaurant and as a joke, Alberto threw out his “Peruvian with soul” concept. Two weeks later, it turned out not to be a joke, as Michaud turned Alberto’s dream into reality after scouting the current Chimú location next to the Grand Central Market. And this is what soul-searching had materialized into…

Left to Right: Alberto’s sous chef Gabriel Galvez who has worked at Wylie Dufresne’s WD-50 and Michael Voltaggio’s The Dining Room (Langham Hotel, Pasadena). Rolando Maldonado, the always jolly manager at Chimú and member at Lazy Ox Canteen.

Aji de Gallina: a Creole curry with walnuts and hard-boiled egg.

Halibut ceviche with seaweed, choclo and leche de tigre.

Lomo Saltado: double-fried fries to ward off sogginess.

Lomo Saltado made with tender cuts of beef.

Estofado de Lengua: Braised beef tongue with baby tomatoes, salsa madre & beluga lentils.

Chancho Pork Belly with barley, huacatay and tomato confit.

Huacatay and Huancaina, critical Peruvian sauces.

The food at Chimú is simply on another level. For a lunch-time, take-out spot in the wasteland of Downtown Los Angeles eateries, customers may be asking Alberto to open up for dinner very soon. When asked about his approach to Chimú, he stated that it’s, “Peruvian food the way I like to eat it.” Alberto realizes that most Angelenos think Peruvian food is purely lomo saltado, chaufa (Peruvian-style Chinese fried rice; like “chao faan”) and ceviche. But what he ate in Lima, would change everyone’s perspective on Peruvian cuisine. One thing Centeno had imbued in his mind was that to be a good cook, you have to understand and respect a dish’s provenance. Once you understand that, then you can deviate from it. And that is his exact approach to Chimú’s “Peruvian with soul” concept. Your lomo saltado will have Belgian-style double fried Yukon Gold potatoes to better hold the sauce and withstand sogginess. Your ceviche will not be as acidic as most, but there will be a certain roundness to it thrugh the use of Japanese plum-infused honey (umeboshi).Your aji de gallina will have a touch of Creole-style curry to it.

I asked how Alberto felt now with everything going, and I appreciated his modesty.

Me: “Are you happy?”
Alberto: “I’m very happy.”
Me: “Are you tired?”
Alberto: “Ha. I’m always tired.”
Me: “You know you’re getting a lot of attention right?”
Alberto: “I hope. To tell you the truth, I’m pretty self-conscious about my food.”
Me: “Why are you self-conscious when most of the customers in the patio are yours? With another ten people in line right now?”
Alberto smiles.

Look for the changing menu at Chimu. You won’t have a better meal out of a cardboard box. Thanks for reading.

Chimú Peruvian Soulfood
324 S. Hill Street
Los Angeles, CA 90013
Neighborhood: Downtown
(213) 625-1097
www.soulfoodofperu.com

For this third entry in the “A Side of Salt” series, I’m very proud and excited to introduce you to 17-year old, Macklin Casnoff of Hancock Park. Angelenos, and possibly people outside of Los Angeles, were recently exposed to his amazing story and talent when Los Angeles Magazine featured an article this month on Macklin and his culinary troupe known as “Samacon” (Sam Yehros, Macklin Casnoff, Jon Sewitz; also Henry Kwapis, Brendan Garrett). But prior to the article being written, I’ve already known Macklin for over a year, and Jeni and I have watched him in the kitchen and tasted his food. In that time frame, I’ve seen a “kid” mature into both a young chef and a young man through passion, determination and sheer curiosity. This is the story of Chef Macklin Casnoff who “packed his bags and hit the road” at the early age of 13. Without even leaving Los Angeles.

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I was at McCall’s Meat and Fish one day hanging around and talking to Nathan McCall about dinner possibilities. I should actually rephrase, I was “loitering” around Nathan’s shop when a tall, Asian guy with long hair and thick-framed glasses came in. He greeted Nathan and made a bee-line to the meat section. He planted two hands on the glass and got close, like a kid at Sea World. For a minute or two, he didn’t say anything and Nathan and I exchanged a few of those “WTF” glances at each other – I felt like I was a security guard working at McCall’s. Nathan eventually broke the silence and asked what the quiet guy was looking for. He introduced himself as Kevin Van (whom I will feature as well), a cook at Providence and was interested in buying meat for a dinner party. He was in fact a very nice and talkative gentleman. I happened to have my camera with me that day and he asked what I enjoyed shooting – I told him that I write/photograph food. Within a few minutes, we got to know Kevin and he invited me to attend one of his private dinner parties. He would give us food, I would give him photos for his site.  Before he left, he said to me, “You gotta come to our dinners for sure, it’s a good time. We’ve even got a 16-year old chef cooking in the kitchen.” A 16-year old chef?  An American Jacques Pepin?  This we had to see.

A few weeks later, we find ourselves at a quaint house in Echo Park at around 5:30 pm. Jeni and I didn’t know what to expect. I know I had heard Kevin Van say that he worked at Providence, so it wasn’t like he was going to serve chicken strips and tater tots. We walked past the gate towards the house, and right then I knew that Chef Van was serious about what he did.  On the tables were full settings with napkins folded into a triangle on the plate. There were dozens of candles lit. To the left was a massive tray of freshly-shucked Kumamoto oysters gleaming at us. An ex-bar back from Seven Grand whisking up some tasty cocktail with Rittenhouse 100. And about twenty nicely-dressed guests wielding wine glasses, standing in a room filled with mellow indie rock music.  This was no mansion, but rather someone’s 2-bedroom rental house. The living and dining room had been completely gutted to accommodate the 25-30 diners.  And all of this was odd because we didn’t know a single soul and I desperately looked for Kevin before we hit the point of embarrassment of being labeled as complete strangers or dinner party-crashers. Then in the very corner of my eye, I saw a tall, skinny Asian guy in the kitchen running back and forth holding large pots – long hair waving around.  “Kevin.” We headed back to the kitchen and I introduced Jeni to him. I looked around at the people helping and they were all in their mid-20s, except for one person who was clearly the “16-year old chef”. He was wearing a slightly worn-out chef coat with Water Grill embroidered on it and shucking oysters like they were bottle caps. Expecting pure arrogance and irreverence, I introduced myself to the young gun.

Me: “Hey man. You must be the young chef Kevin Van told me about?”
Macklin: “Yeah, I’m Macklin.”
Me: “You work at Water Grill?”
Macklin: “Yeah, with Michael Cimarusti. And now I’m at Providence.”
Me: “Well it’s nice meeting you, looking forward to trying your food.”

Aside from most dinner parties which highlight one particular chef’s food, Chef Kevin Van brings in other young cooks from restaurants all over Los Angeles. There’s not one all-star, but more so a collective of young, unadulterated all-star cooks. And almost all of them are years from becoming anywhere near a sous chef. When you work under a chef, you’re making his menu, not yours. Kevin Van’s approach allows the young cooks to exhibit their talent fresh out of culinary school sans the demon chef breathing down their neck. It’s a collaborative dinner party that I’ve grown to love each time I attend. I stood in the back of the kitchen and just watched all the cooks hustle and bustle in one of the tiniest kitchens ever. It was most amusing watching Macklin because I was simply impressed. When most kids his age were probably raiding dad’s alcohol cabinet and playing video games, this kid was studying the methods of creating foam for plating and how to make something delicious with liquid nitrogen. And yes, his food was very good.

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Macklin had his culinary epiphany when he was only 13 years old. It just so happened that his best friend is Mark Peel (Campanile, Tarpit) and Nancy Silverton’s son (La Brea Bakery, Mozza). It was at Campanile he had an eye-opening meal and he decided he wanted to take the plunge into the kitchen life. And it was anything but pleasant for him. Some burns and cuts later, he had thrown in the towel after only the third day – completely repulsed by the kitchen life. But he told me, he never stopped thinking about it because he in fact loved it. A year later, he did the next best thing to attending culinary school – cold-calling and knocking on the door of Los Angeles’ best restaurants. He called everywhere and disappointingly got very few return calls. But because Chef Peel had given him a chance at his place, the other chefs decided to let Macklin follow his aspirations. After working and stage’ing at Sona, Campanile, Melisse, he found his “home” under the wings of the Animal Restaurant chefs and Michael Cimarusti of Providence.

Fast forwarding to present time, Macklin is now 17 with over three years of culinary training in some of Los Angeles’ best restaurants. For his senior project at Oakwood School in North Hollywood, he decided to prepare a five-course meal for his mentors: Chef Michael Cimarusti and two of his high school educators, David Kerber and Teddy Varno. Macklin and Cimarusti had been researching a style of Japanese cuisine known as kaiseki. To laymen like you and me, it basically means “small dishes” and can be as simple as three dishes with rice and miso soup, or as extensive as your standard tasting menu at an haute restaurant. But as you’ll see, a notable difference betweeen Japanese and French cuisine, at least for me as a diner, is the usage of butter and mother sauces. Japanese food is way more delicate and reliant on fresh and raw ingredients. Both educators served as counselors for Macklin and oversaw his senior project. And I was the fortunate fourth guest to experience this private tasting. I’ve gotten to know Macklin after a good eight dinner parties and I was honored to document his special project.

On Tuesday evening, I walked into Providence and sadly, was directed to the bar, where I was forced to have a delicious Negroni made by the very talented Zahra Bates. Macklin’s former teachers showed up right after and we broke the ice. I saw Macklin walking back and forth from the kitchen and decided to follow him for a few action shots. I was very impressed with the Providence kitchen. It was huge and ran like a Navy ship, with over fourteen line cooks. To my right, I saw a 99 Ranch Market-like fish tank filled with some very unlucky Santa Barbara spot prawns. The last time I was at Providence, I sank my teeth into perfectly cooked Spot Prawns buried in 550 degree kosher salt – so amazing.

It was now 7:30 pm and Chef Cimarusti came out in his chef coat and apron to greet us and we proceeded to the dining room. Some wine was poured, and everyone shared his relation and experience working with Macklin and it was given that he is incredibly talented for his age. Chef said it was strange for him to be dining at his own restaurant – and to be served by one of his apprentices. Macklin had been at Providence for nearly twelve hours now, and it was time for the final test: his take on California-style kaiseki cuisine.

Macklin came out with our dishes along with another server and briefly described each course. When we got our first dish, we all remained silent and just stared at the sheer beauty and simplicity of it. It was almost like the Wizard of Oz, where you didn’t see what was going on behind the curtain. And when the wizard did show his face, he was younger than you thought – a lot younger. While we grabbed our utensils and napkins, I looked over at Chef to see that that he was still staring at the dish – even turning his head to look at the dish at different angles. It was obvious he was analyzing the detail of everything, but at the time, I think he was taken back by how much his apprentice had learned and experienced in the last 2-3 years.  And that his time and patience devoted to Macklin was anything but wasteful. Chef then looked at us and said:

“There are young chefs out there, but not many that pay attention to as much detail as Macklin does or are as creative as he is.  Not everyone can do this. I have cooks in that kitchen that can re-create everything I do perfectly. But when I ask them to create their own dishes, some can’t do it.”

Santa Barbara Spot Prawn with Cherry, Wasabi & Lemon Thyme
If you have access to Chef Cimarusti’s Santa Barbara Spot Prawn tank, you’d better grab as much of it as you can – it’s a treasure chest. Macklin served the Spot Prawn sashimi style in Kyoto-style bowls with a light, wasami soy sauce. The sashimi, soy sauce and wasabi took us to Japan but the cherries, lemon and thyme grounded us in California as we bit into the toothsome texture of raw shrimp. I wanted about twenty-one more pieces.

California-Delta Asparagus with Yogurt, Honey & Lemon
This dish was one of the most beautifully plated vegetable dishes I’ve ever eaten. The asparagus was lightly blanched and kissed the grill just long enough. The honey, lemon and yogurt balanced out the charred asparagus taste. Fantastic.

Humboldt Squid with White Beans & Laurel Canyon Nasturtium
This was the most beautiful dish of the night and my favorite as I’m a sucker for seafood. We all stopped to stare at the colors – it was very Californian. I want you to pay attention to the meticulous scoring done on the Humboldt squid – it almost looks like velcro! This dish was served on top of some white beans, brown butter and a pesto made by a flower found right in Los Angeles. Chef noted that this dish had multiple personality to it, depending on which angle you looked at it. Very well said.

Braised Pork Shoulder with Milk Curds, Turnips, Enoki and Purslane
This was the most Japanese-influenced dish as you’ve probably eaten the braised pork belly version known as buta kakuni. The pork is braised in your standard soy sauce, sake, mirin, sugar and sesame oil broth but the trick to this dish is the final texture Macklin added to it. Versus being a completely mushy and braised pork, he finished it off in a non-stick pan versus a cast-iron skillet.  The reason being that the non-stick pans are able to create a very thin, crispy sear versus a rough sear from a cast-iron. And this was the exact detail Cimarusti was pointing out in Macklin’s approach to cooking. I love enoki mushrooms but I never thought to deep-fry it, which brings out even more of an earthy, crispy texture that made a lot of sense with the pork and broth. Cimarusti loved this entree the most.

Juniper Berry with Market Berries, Lime Curd & Mochi Cake
To be honest, I was near depression when the dessert came out because (a) I don’t care for dessert (b) the kaiseiki style cuisine was beautiful and healthy but so small and (c) the end of Macklin’s road. For a young chef to produce a dessert as good as his main courses is something to be said. A lot of chefs will hire pastry chefs to do the “dirty” work because most enjoy the hot sizzling action from the stoves. The cake you see on the bottom is not your ordinary poundcake, but rather something made with mochi rice flour. The result was a slightly gummy texture that was delectable.

Dave Kerber. Teddy Varno.

Chef Michael Cimarusti

Many times during this meal, I was so into the food and discussion with the other diners that I had forgotten who had cooked the meal. Not because I was being irreverent, but because the food almost seemed in line with Cimarusti’s culinary approach. And the curve ball was thrown by a 17-year old pitcher who has never stepped into the Culinary Institute of America. I believe that if you really want to achieve a goal, you can make it happen. When I heard that Art Center would cost me $120,000 for a degree as an advertising art director, I gave them the finger and just knocked on agency doors. And its exactly what Macklin did – so I commend him on achieving more than what most fresh culinary school kids will achieve in a decade. When Jeni and I first met Macklin that night in Echo Park, he was probably the most polite 17-year old I’ve ever met. Given his knowledge and experiences, he gets points for his humble attitude. Macklin has decided to take a hiatus from cooking and attend Bard University in New York and explore other creative outlets. He promises though, that he will become a chef. It is frightening how much better he will be when he is in his prime.  But I do hope that you and I get to experience his food again and again.

Congratulations to Macklin Casnoff on a successful senior project. Thank you to Chef Cimarusti for hosting the dinner and a pleasure dining with both Dave and Teddy.

When’s the last time you had an epiphany? Sometimes it happens when you see someone accomplishing something amazing.  Sometimes it may happen after a song you hear. Or sadly, even when you lose someone close to you. For me, the most significant ones came to me in the form of words.  Before Jeni and I went to Buenos Aires for our honeymoon, I was graduating on to my sixteenth year of smoking.  One night, we were walking around looking for Argentine steaks and I stopped in front of a wall. The epiphany came in the form of a small mural of a spray-painted flower and hand-written words, “Don’t smoke. Enjoy life”. At that moment, I happened to be holding a cigarette.  I looked at my hand and watched as wisps of smoke slowly wrapped around my hands like some sort of evil spirit consuming me. It was then that I realized how badly I wanted to quit and how much of a slave I’ve become to nicotine. And much to my own surprise, I decided to drop it and put out the cigarette. A few blocks later I threw away the whole pack of cigarettes and lighter. I didn’t know if I would regret it an hour later when I wanted to smoke again. But thankfully, I’ve been clean for at least fifteen months now.

The most recent epiphany happened as I was walking along Sunset Blvd. one weekend as I came across a store window quoting, “it’s not where you’re from, it’s where you’ve been”. I was reminded why Jeni and I travel so much. How we work as hard as we can so that we can step outside of where we live. We knew of four or five people that sadly passed away way too young last year – inspiring us to not take things for granted and to do things while you still could. My biggest fear is hearing myself say “I wish I had done this.” In this second edition of A Side of Salt story, you’ll learn that sometimes, you have to move around just to move on up.  You’ll understand the benefits of never giving up on what you love. You’ll learn that one of Los Angeles’s most revered and underrated chef had his epiphany when he was only 12 years old. And you’ll see why Ricardo Zarate of Mo-Chica rightfully deserves the Food & Wine 2011 People’s Best New Chef award.

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The first time we met Chef Ricardo Zarate wasn’t during our first visit to Mo-Chica, but rather the fourth visit. Mo-Chica, a tiny Japanese-Peruvian eatery in a quaint, Latino-dominant food court by the University of Southern California, was starting to pick up steam after it was touched by Gold. The food court offers various Latino food, including one of my favorites Chichen Itza, but it’s clear which restaurant stands out the most and draws the most eaters. During the earlier visits, the girls in our dining group would check out a certain young cook in the back wearing a bandana. One of my friends wanted to meet him and I decided to play matchmaker and bring him over to the table. I assumed he was the chef since he was the only one really visible cook in the tiny kitchen and seemed to be calling the shots. I introduced myself to “Richie” and then brought him over to our group, in hopes of him catching a glimpse of my friend, but she chickened out.  Over three visits, we had mistakenly thought that “Richie” was none other than Chef “Ricardo” Zarate. It wasn’t until we came to the fourth tasting that we realized that the friendly server/host guy humbly wearing a green Mo-Chica t-shirt was actually the Chef Ricardo Zarate. We would eat the food each time and think about how good the food was and at such a low cost.  It was obvious that Zarate is a good chef, but what really resonated with me was his cheery disposition, humble attitude and face of diligence. It’s that type of personality that makes me want to come back and bring him business. I had a feeling that sooner or later, Mo-Chica would be too small for this big fish.

Ricardo Zarate was born in Lima, Peru in 1973.  He is the eleventh of thirteen children and as most large families operate, each sibling has his/her responsibility in the family. The eldest would do more of the business and financial ends and the youngest doing most of the domestic work. One duty each family member was responsible for was cooking. Whether or not they liked it, each of the Zarate children went through the kitchen like they were on a production line. According to Zarate, he enjoyed helping out in the kitchen most. It wasn’t until he was at his mother’s friend’s place where he first had his culinary epiphany. His mother’s friend had taught him how to prepare what was basically octopus sashimi with soy sauce and wasabi – a dish that would many years later define his current style of cooking. From there, a passion for cooking began to grow like a flame and Zarate was only 12 years old. Not as impressive as Jacques Pepin leaving for culinary training at the age of 13, but still astonishing.

As the eleventh child in the family, he was the most “famous” cook in the Zarate household and began taking the responsibility of cooking for the whole family a few times a week – impressing everyone including friends and neighbors.  He focused a lot on Peruvian classics and desserts and would even write out the menu on paper and place them on the tables and refrigerator. At the age of 16, his destiny would be decided one evening when the Zarate family decided to cater a large corporate banquet – with Ricardo as the young head chef.  According to Zarate, he knew the corporate head and told him he could host the dinner at his family’s place, “I can do it.“  How many 16 years old do you know that can cater a banquet for 600 people?  It was obvious where Zarate’s road would lead him.

When he turned 18, he enrolled in a local institute in Lima called Las Americas which offered courses in hotel management and hospitality, in preparation for his future restaurant. Yet he wasn’t in the kitchen as much as he wanted to be – where he truly belonged. For a while, things remained the same with little progress as Zarate would still need a few years to complete the training. Were it not for his friends, Arturo Garzon and Miguel Choy and one of his brothers, Zarate could still be in Lima to this day. Garzon was working in London as a cook and came back to Peru and told him about the big fortune and life he had in London, inspiring Zarate with each and every detail.  Garzon ended up opening a pub in Lima in 1991 and employed Zarate to work for him. But after a few months, Zarate was unsatisfied with his growth as a chef.  Hungry to learn and advance, he approached Garzon. Garzon said that he could land him a job at a restaurant in London, but under one condition, that he became a line cook in under 6 months or be “let down”.  But his friend knew of Zarate’s fierce determination and work ethics, having total faith in him.  Several times throughout our conversation, Zarate reminded me that he is completely stubborn and unwilling to give up in anything he does. Zarate’s eyes widened with joy and accepted the challenge from his friend. A year later, he was given a VISA and bought a one-way ticket to London.

If achieving an ambition was devoid of obstacles, it wouldn’t be an ambition. As with any feel-good story of accomplishment, there’s always strife, conflict and self-realization involved. If Zarate’s story was processed through the fairytale machine, we’d end up with Zarate landing in London, becoming an executive chef at a 4-star restaurant in under one year, receiving Michelin stars and living happily ever after with a hot tub full of naked ladies and lifetime supply of Dom Perignon. But that would be completely far from reality.  Zarate’s dreams started in the back of the dish washing station at Benihana, which according to him, was a hot commodity in the London dining scene in the ’90s. We both let out a laugh. And knowing Zarate personally, he wouldn’t have wanted his success to be handed to him that easily. Before leaving to London, Zarate told Garzon, “I’m going to be the best dishwasher there is… and I’m going to be a line cook under 6 months.”

For those that have not been to Benihana, the restaurant serves teppanyaki, which is a style of Japanese cuisine cooked on a flat-surface grill also known as a griddle. Versus cooking the food in the kitchen, the kitchen comes to you. The diners are seated around the grill with the teppanyaki cook in the middle dishing out food to everyone. To the English and even American tourists today, much of the allure of Benihana comes from the fast, entertaining griddle-to-plate action each cook is trained to do.  Think of them as “entertainers that can cook”. People love seeing their food being prepared in front of them, and even more when the cook slides 4-5 sizzling shrimp from his spatula on to your plate in .23 milliseconds. According to Zarate, this was a highly-coveted position within the Benihana corporation, requiring much training and even testing by corporate chefs. Any free time or breaks from dish-washing, Zarate would ask questions and learn through watching.

After a few months, Zarate approached the head chef and expressed interest in becoming a teppanyaki cook. At that time, there were only four positions available as a teppanyaki cook and they were also occupied by talented cooks of Japanese descent. I’m sure it was set up that way to maintain the brand of being an authentic Japanese institution. They also had to speak English to communicate with the customers as well as entertain. Zarate was Peruvian with almost zero English speaking skills. He was declined the opportunity and devastated. But as luck would have it, an essential call from his friend Garzon back in Peru gave Zarate one chance to prove himself. He would have to show the chefs he was capable of passing the corporate test to become a teppanyaki cook. Zarate worked a grueling 14 hours a day as a dishwasher, but during free time and after closing, he would practice on teppanyaki grills with no heat and cold food. I imagined this to look similar to the cliché scene in the movie where a boxer practices in the ring alone late at night before the big fight – focused and passionate. A few months went by and on the sixth month, Zarate faced the test administered by the Benihana corporation. It was the first time he got to cook with actual heat and the second time London’s Benihana promoted a Latino face to represent their restaurant (after Arturo Garzon).

For the next two years, Zarate managed to entertain his diners at Benihana with his speed and 30-word vocabulary which included, “yes, “okay“, “sure” and “bon appetit” – which isn’t even English. In the 90′s, he was making decent cash as a cook in London at nearly $900 a week, most of which he sent back to his family back in Peru. Due to his interest in furthering his culinary education, Zarate would stay no more than two years at each restaurant for the next decade. Remember his epiphany after eating the octopus sashimi with soy sauce? It wasn’t until he worked at his second Japanese restaurant that he realized the influence the Japanese had on Peruvian cuisine. “I had no idea I was eating Japanese food! I thought it was Peruvian!” he exclaimed. According to Wikipedia, Peru has the second largest population of Japanese in the southern hemisphere due to the demand for sugar cane production. He stated that Nobu Matsuhisa of Nobu had spent a good part of his life as well in Lima and his restaurants today are a result of the two countries cuisine styles fused together. So it was only natural that Zarate would cook food that was closest to his heart: Japanese Peruvian.

The food that you eat at Zarate’s Mo-Chica, at the conceptual restaurant Test Kitchen and forth-coming Picca comes from Zarate’s more-than-fifteen years of Japanese culinary training. At the 30-year old Ayko Ku Kaku, which was London’s first Japanese restaurant, he learned the art of making sushi. He also used his knowledge of cooking Peruvian anticuchos in mastering the Japanese yakitori grill. At Itsu, a modern conveyor-belt sushi restaurant, Zarate found his creative side as he was responsible in making small dishes enticing enough for the diners to select and eat.  At the restaurant in the five-star One Aldwych Hotel, he merged his Japanese knowledge with European style cooking through a famous, french-trained chef from New Zealand. At the private and elite Colony Club of the Metropolitan Hotel, he was able to learn how to cook English, Chinese, Middle Eastern, Italian and Thai food.  With all this knowledge, his skills were  more honed than ever.  It was again time for Zarate to move – not back home to Peru, but to Los Angeles. From 2003 to 2007, Zarate continued to work as a chef in various Japanese restaurants and his impression in Los Angeles’ dining scene was about to be made.

The Mercado de Paloma is a food court with no more than eight eateries, typically serving food to a Latino majority. Zarate wanted to introduce nouveau Peruvian cuisine to Los Angeles and felt MDP was the perfect place to open his restaurant. While most of the eateries there will fill you up on no more than $6 with a drink, Zarate’s least expensive entree dish is $11 and as high as $18 – nearly three times the amount of the food offered in the food court. This price point would be an obvious red flag. But as we’ve learned about Zarate’s undying commitment to cooking and stubborn attitude, he decided to open Mo-Chica in 2009. For nearly three months, Zarate experienced the pain and heartbreak of running a restaurant. It’s not that the food wasn’t delicious, it was more the fact that the people willing to pay that price point for food didn’t know about it. Rachael Ray made a living talking about how you could spend $40 a day in any given city. Ricardo Zarate was making $40 in sales each day – for months. $40 is barely enough to cover the cost of a few pounds of fish used for ceviche! He ended up chipping away at his savings just to pay for food costs and staff. But this is in line with the ideology that in order to really win, you have to know what it’s like to lose.

And for those that choose to endure hardship, there is usually a reward involved – in this case, a Golden one. From here, things for Ricardo Zarate couldn’t be better. About a month after Jonathan Gold wrote about Mo-Chica, the tables started filling up. Soon, Zarate began offering seven-course dinners for a jaw-dropping $35. He filled the food court with indistinct chatter, people of all ethnicities and Latin music – with everyone leaving full and content. A few months later, Zarate became involved with a temporary restaurant concept called Test Kitchen that made dining in Los Angeles even more exciting. For months, various chefs including Michael Voltaggio and Walter Manzke would offer multiple-course meals for a reasonable fixed price. But all of this was in preparation for two restaurants and a bar to be opened on the current Pico Blvd. property. One of them being Zarate’s forthcoming restaurant Picchu, an homage to Peruvian-style robata grilling known as anticuchos.  And to really seal the deal, Zarate was recently voted as Food & Wine’s People’s Best New Chef of the Pacific.

Left to Right: Richie, Zarate’s sous chef. Grilled Spot Prawn with yuzu kosho oil.

Left to Right: Grilled peach. Grilled beef tongue with sauce.

If you’ve read this far, I applaud you as it was as long of a read as it was to write. Zarate is someone I respect and feel inspired by. It was important to recognize Zarate’s achievements and hopefully let his story inspire you to follow your ambitions. His career is appropriately themed “from dishes to riches”, but if you’ve talked to Zarate, you’ll know he is not interested in showing off any sort of wealth. To me, he’s rich with self accomplishments and experiences. It’s taken Zarate over twenty years to stand where he’s standing right now and I hope that you’ll be able to try his food sometime soon before his tasting menus start costing upwards of $150. All of this happened because of an epiphany he had at the age of 12. Congratulations again to Chef Ricardo Zarate for the 2011 Food & Wine nomination and thanks for reading.

Read A Side of Salt. One: Ov Heang Chhun, a survivor of the Khmer Rouge.