In restaurants and bars across the country, a generation of Latines in the hospitality industry are quietly but powerfully resisting erasure. With intention and authenticity, these culinary visionaries are reshaping narratives about Latinidad — on their own terms. And that’s especially important today, in a political climate where anti-immigrant rhetoric echoes louder each election cycle.
Regardless of your position in the hierarchy of power, resistance is key. And bringing your authentic self to work every day not only enriches the community but proves to bigots that our voices — and our flavors, our influence and our values — will not be silenced. We spoke with industry tastemakers about how they’re getting creative with their recipes and claiming their space in the process.
Guillermo López Folch
At Lala, a restaurant in San Juan, Puerto Rico, co-owned by Bad Bunny and recently named one of Time magazine’s “greatest places,” Chef Guillermo López Folch breaks out of the box Latine chefs are often confined to, bringing a wealth of experience from some of the world’s top kitchensv — including over a decade at Michelin-starred restaurant Le Bernardin in New York.
Now back on the island, he channels that pedigree into a space that blends precision with rebellion. “I’m not going to please everyone, and that’s OK. You’ve got to stay true to what you believe. That’s the most Puerto Rican thing about us. We never back down,” López Folch tells HuffPost.
The temptation to “Americanize” dishes? He laughs.
“No, never,” López Folch says. “Sometimes we push aside what we eat daily, downplaying it — like arroz con salchichas — and then we realize it’s actually gold. That’s our soul food.”
His perspective is deeply rooted in both identity and humility. “We never opened Lala thinking we’d end up [with multiple accolades.] But maybe that’s the point—we’re not trying to impress, just express,” he says. “Just by showing up and doing what we do, sin miedo, we make our point.”
The spirit, equally infused by Bad Bunny, whose birth name is Benito Martínez Ocasio, is part of a wider cultural movement — one rooted in radical authenticity. “Benito always says, you gotta be you,” López Folch says. “He puts plastic chairs from la casa de abuela in his album and doesn’t care if people don’t get it. That’s power.”
As political rhetoric grows increasingly anti-immigrant, López Folch leans into the quiet resistance of his craft. “We’re living through a time that we can’t even compare to anything in the past, so it’s always important to express who you are, where you come from,” he says. “That’s the beauty of this industry — it unites people.”
And sometimes, that unity starts with a single bite. “A good plate of food disarms whoever,” he explains. “They might be angry at you, but then they take a bite and go, ‘Shit, this is delicious.’” For López Folch, that moment of shared humanity is enough, adding, “That’s how we speak.”
Carol Reyes
At first glance, Bóveda doesn’t fit the mold of a Latine restaurant — and that’s exactly the point. Chef Carol Reyes, recently nominated for a 2025 James Beard Award in the Best Chef: South category, is carving out a different lane. Her food isn’t traditional fare; it’s refined, seasonal, and minimalist. But her ingredients are local, her flavors intentional, and her purpose deeply rooted in identity.
“My food isn’t defined by geography. It’s defined by technique. My cuisine isn’t about pleasing everyone,” Reyes says. “If I start doing what Americans like just to satisfy them, I stop being me. My cuisine loses its essence.”
It’s a bold stance, especially in a moment when the pressure to conform —culturally, commercially, and politically — is so high. But Reyes doesn’t see resistance as performative. For her, it’s about presence. “We’re not in the United States,” she says of Puerto Rico, “but we’re Latino. We’re rubbing shoulders with the rest. Being nominated alongside chefs from across the U.S. shows that we are on the same level. And as a woman, even more so.”
She also believes gastronomy can be a form of protest, even if it’s subtle. “Chefs are ambassadors. Food defines a country. And if I’m doing my job right, then every plate that leaves my kitchen says something about who we are as Puerto Ricans.”
Marcelo Chasi
“You’ll be surprised by the amount of Ecuadorians that right now we have in the New York market that I’m taking not only bartender positions, but leadership positions,” says chef and mixologist Marcelo Chasi, who was born and raised in Ecuador. “So it’s great to see. I love that.”
Chasi, who is also a brand ambassador of Herradura tequila, stressed the importance of bringing your most authentic self to work every day, especially if you’re responsible for setting the tone of a hospitality space. “Depending on the focus of the event, we want to introduce people to fun elements that they might not be familiar with,” he says, describing how even a cocktail can transport you. “Recently, I featured a clarified cocktail with Herradura reposado that was made with banana. Ecuador is a country known for bananas, and we have signature drinks that feature it.” Incorporating simple yet emblematic flavors is one way Chasi says he literally brings his culture to the bar.
And while Chasi is hell bent on a good time, he expresses that the table management (as he calls it) was raised with — and how important it is to honor the ritual of eating and drinking. Intentional eating and drinking, for him, means taking your time to taste the ingredients and savor the entire experience.
Today, regardless of what space Chasi is in, making connections is crucial. “I like to acknowledge and greet everyone in the room individually,” he says. “That’s something very important, because you don’t generalize people. You make it personal.”
Hugo Gamino
For Hugo Gamino, food isn’t just sustenance — it’s survival, storytelling, and an act of defiance. Based in Phoenix, Arizona, and serving as head of culinary strategy at Hispanic Kitchen, Gamino draws a direct line between his plates and his Mexican heritage. “My cuisine dates back to the Mesoamericans, told in a modern way,” he says. “A reflection of my Mexican roots, my food is a lifeline to who made me and what I want to keep alive.”
Early in his career, Gamino admits, he faced pressure to “Americanize” his dishes to gain a seat at the table. “As a young chef, I allowed persuasion to alter my menu. But as I’ve aged, I’ve realized the privileged never alter themselves. Now, I meet their privilege with the transparent, authentic dishes my ancestors passed to me.”
Gamino feels an acute responsibility to use his platform to highlight the immigrant story.
“Now more than ever, our cuisine is crucial. When I cook, I’m telling a story — not just my own, but of my people. My success was built on the sacrifices of immigrants in my family. I don’t allow my food to be a holiday or a month; I cook bolder and as authentically as I can.”
For Gamino, food is indisputably political. “I’m an activist who happens to write and cook. My dishes are a vessel for justice,” he says. As the son of immigrants, he sees every meal as an opportunity to counter stereotypes and showcase the resilience and values of his community. He explains, “Food has allowed me to show a transparent viewpoint of who we really are.”
Mario Pagán
As the host of the inaugural Puerto Rico Wine and Food Festival and the visionary behind acclaimed restaurants like Mario Pagán and Chayote in Winter Park, Florida, Chef Mario Pagán doesn’t just cook Latine food; he redefines it. His cuisine, a “modern twist on Puerto Rican flavors,” weaves together the Caribbean’s depth with contemporary techniques. Dishes like his ropa vieja lasagna challenge expectations of what our food can be.
Pagán reframes the concept of fusion by acknowledging our right to experiment with food. “Yes, I’ve Americanized some of my dishes. But it’s about delivery and storytelling — simplifying our caldos and sancochos without stripping away their meaning,” he says. His success shows that adaptation doesn’t have to mean assimilation.
Pagán views his role as both chef and cultural torchbearer. “We are a major force in the United States, especially in Florida,” he says. “Even when my restaurant isn’t explicitly Puerto Rican, everyone knows I’m Puerto Rican. The food reflects that.”
For him, every dish is a form of representation, saying, “I have a responsibility to take our food, our heritage, and our pride everywhere I go. Whether I’m in Europe or the U.S., I don’t apologize. I don’t shy away. I’m very vocal, and I’m proud of who we are and what we’ve accomplished. I’ll keep doing it as long as I’m alive.”