My name is Erasto Vargas. I was born in Michoacán, Mexico, and immigrated to the United States as a child. I grew up, attended school, and built my life here, eventually discovering my passion for food. In 2006, I graduated from Kitchen Academy, but my culinary education began long before I ever stepped into a classroom—it started in my family’s kitchen.
Some food memories work like the famous scene in Ratatouille when Anton Ego tastes Remy’s cooking and is instantly transported back to childhood. Certain flavors have the power to unlock moments we thought were long forgotten. They do more than satisfy hunger; they bring us back to a specific place, time, and feeling.
About Chef Erasto Vargas
What impressed me most was not just her cooking but her instinct. She never measured with cups or spoons. Her measuring tools were the palms of her hands. She seasoned by feel, experience, and intuition. Even after more than twenty years working in restaurants, hotels, and healthcare kitchens, I still believe my mother makes better Mexican food than I do.
More importantly, she taught me the value of gathering around a table. Lunch and dinner were family time. We sat together, shared stories, and connected through food. Her cooking brought us together in a way that I did not fully appreciate until I became an adult.
As I grew older and entered the culinary profession, I realized that was the experience I wanted to create for others. Whether cooking for hotel guests, hospital patients, or private clients, I wanted food to become more than a meal. I wanted it to create a memory—something meaningful that people would carry with them long after the plate was cleared.
My mother worked more than forty hours each week, yet she still came home every evening to prepare dinner and lunches for the following day. There were no shortcuts in her kitchen. No canned beans. No instant rice. Everything was made from scratch—enchiladas, chile rellenos, birria, and countless other family favorites.
For me, that memory is a warm flour tortilla with mayonnaise.
When I was five or six years old, I would wake up before sunrise while my parents prepared for work. My mother packed lunches while my father filled water containers with ice and loaded the car. I would sit quietly at the kitchen table, and before they left, my mother would make me a warm flour tortilla with mayonnaise.
It was simple, but it represented everything a child needs: comfort, security, and love. To this day, that memory reminds me of my mother’s care and the sacrifices she made for our family.
Food, Family, and the Kitchens I Helped Build
The Story Continues
At eighteen, shortly after graduating high school and while attending community college, I got my first food-service job at Domino’s Pizza. I started answering phones before moving into the kitchen, where I learned to build pizzas, work the oven station, and keep up with the fast pace of a busy operation.
The experience taught me discipline, teamwork, and efficiency, but it also introduced me to something I immediately loved—the energy of a kitchen.
Not long afterward, I visited a local sports bar and asked if they were hiring. The owner asked whether I knew how to make pizza. I told him about my experience at Domino’s, and he hired me on the spot.
That decision changed the direction of my life.
At the sports bar, I met Chef Martin Islas, one of the most influential mentors of my career. Originally from Puebla, Mexico, Martin approached cooking with the passion and craftsmanship of an Italian chef. Everything was made from scratch, and every recipe reflected pride, patience, and attention to detail.
Although he never attended culinary school, he possessed a level of skill and intuition that rivaled many professionally trained chefs. More than twenty years later, I still have not tasted a pizza or marinara sauce that compares to his.
Around that time, I saw a commercial for culinary school. Encouraged by my mother and inspired by my growing love for the industry, I enrolled.
Walking into culinary school on the first day wearing a chef coat for the first time was intimidating. Yet it quickly became one of the most important experiences of my life.
One instructor in particular, Chef Greenspan, left a lasting impression on me. He taught me that great cooking is not just about speed. It is about slowing down, tasting, analyzing, adjusting, and executing with purpose. He emphasized quality, presentation, and flavor over simply producing food quickly. Years later, when I saw him on Food Network, I realized how fortunate I had been to learn from someone of his caliber.
Following graduation, I worked in a wide range of kitchens, from corporate restaurants such as TGI Friday’s and Applebee’s to independent restaurants and luxury hotels, including Embassy Suites and the Ritz-Carlton.
One of the most significant chapters of my career was at the Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel in Dana Point, California. During my five years there, I worked throughout the property—in-room dining, banquets, steakhouse operations, garde manger, poolside dining, and guest-facing culinary events.
The commute was long, but the education was invaluable.
The Ritz-Carlton taught me far more than recipes and techniques. It taught me excellence, professionalism, teamwork, and attention to detail. Many of the colleagues I met there remain close friends today.
My career eventually transitioned into healthcare food service after receiving a call from Jennifer Dumit, a registered dietitian and culinary professional I had met at the Ritz-Carlton. Together, we combined nutritional expertise and culinary standards to elevate food quality at a community hospital in Chino, California.
What began as part-time support quickly expanded into banquet services, executive functions, and larger operational responsibilities. Eventually, I accepted a full-time chef position at a community hospital in Glendora.
The kitchen I inherited faced significant challenges. Equipment was failing, sanitation standards needed improvement, and staff training was inconsistent. Alongside my mentor, Jenny Chan, I helped rebuild the operation from the ground up.
We focused on employee training, food quality, kitchen organization, sanitation practices, and operational consistency. Despite budget limitations and staffing challenges, we transformed the department into a more efficient and professional operation.
My journey began with a warm flour tortilla and mayonnaise at my mother’s kitchen table.
From there, it led me through family meals, culinary school, restaurants, luxury hotels, healthcare kitchens, and leadership roles. Along the way, food gave me more than a career. It taught me discipline, responsibility, leadership, and service.
Most importantly, it taught me that the best meals are not always the most expensive or elaborate. Sometimes, the meals we remember most are the ones that remind us we are loved.
Managers may be absent. Supervisors may be off duty. But standards must remain in place every single day. Protecting the people we serve is one of the greatest responsibilities in our profession.
Before transitioning into logistics during the COVID-19 pandemic, I spent my final years in food service working as an Executive Banquet Chef. Yet when I reflect on my career, I am proudest of the kitchens I helped improve.
I helped struggling operations become organized, efficient, and safe. I trained employees, strengthened food-safety practices, improved production systems, organized purchasing processes, and helped teams build confidence in their work.
Healthcare food service also changed the way I viewed cooking.
I learned that food must be both delicious and nutritious. It is not enough for a dish to look beautiful or taste rich. It must also be balanced, properly portioned, and designed to support the health of the people eating it.
Throughout my career, one lesson has remained constant: food safety is non-negotiable.
Most guests never notice the details that chefs notice immediately—a greasy hood system, improperly labeled food, unsafe thawing procedures, poor handwashing practices, or improperly stored chemicals. Yet those details matter. One mistake can affect someone’s health and well-being.
Food safety does not take a day off.
“You better learn how to cook, one day you may be on your own, and no one will be there to prepare your meals for you.”
-Advice Erasto's mom gave him at 13 years old