My relationship with food began at home. I grew up in an Ecuadorian family where many important conversations happened around a table, and where the recipes I remember most were my grandmother’s. Long before I photographed restaurants, I photographed those dishes.
Recipes learned by watching
At home, recipes were never written down. You learned them by watching: how long to leave something on the stove, when to add an ingredient, how to tell a dish was ready. That way of cooking, unhurried and attentive, is still what I look for when I walk into a kitchen.
Ingredients you recognize instantly
Some flavors you recognize before you even look at the plate. Corn, plantain, comforting soups, the ají that goes with almost everything. When I find them in Miami the feeling is immediate: it is like going home for a moment.
Flavors tied to family
Ecuadorian food, like so many Latin American cuisines, is made for sharing. Dishes land in the middle of the table and the meal stretches into conversation. So for me, a good Ecuadorian restaurant is not measured only by flavor, but also by that sense of coming together.
Finding Ecuador in Miami
Miami has a huge Latin American community, and within it there are places that keep heritage recipes alive. Finding them is not just discovering a restaurant: it is recognizing memories, ingredients and ways of sharing that are part of who I am.
That connection to Ecuadorian cooking is not a limit but my starting point. It is where my interest in other cuisines began, and it is still how I look at every dish. Food carries memory, and in Miami that memory keeps reaching the table.
