It was a year ago, last May, when it felt like my dream had come true. After seven years in the UK, I had finally opened the first restaurant of my own, Cavita in Marylebone, which pays tribute to Mexico. I was 35.
Pushed by my grandmother, who used to sell quesadillas, tacos and tamales with her street food business, I had become a chef 17 years ago, first working at Nicos in Mexico City, and moving to Pujol at 19, which is still considered one of the world’s top 10 restaurants.But when I moved to London as head chef at Peyotito, I was soon thinking all the time of my own place. After putting in all that work, finding partners and a team, Cavita was going to show everything I could do. In fact, I had been working on it so much that I was filled with a fear — a fear that people wouldn’t like it. I had even taken a flat about 20 minutes away in West Hampstead, so I could always be there, I was so nervous. But we opened to all these amazing reviews, and suddenly my fear was gone. I don’t have the words but I was filled completely with happiness. My restaurant was full, and I had my dream.
