My father came from Arkansas, my mother from the far southern edge of California, and I grew up between Colorado and Southern California—a mix that shaped my food inclinations in unexpected ways.
In Colorado, my plate was filled with hearty Midwestern staples: meat and potatoes, mac & cheese, and the occasional game. By contrast, Southern California brought the flavors of the borderlands—taco pie, burritos, crispy tacos—the kind of casual Mexican-inspired dishes that defined the early 1970s.
Scouting programs added another layer, teaching me the art of “campfire cooking.” Cast iron skillets over wood and coal became my classroom, where I learned to improvise dishes like a rustic, Mexican-style fried rice that blended perfectly with my mixed-up culinary upbringing.
Years later, when my wife and I opened our restaurant, I suddenly had a full-scale commercial kitchen at my disposal. It was a playground for experimentation, refinement, and exploration—where those childhood influences and campfire lessons evolved into something more polished, yet still rooted in the flavors that shaped me