For Chef Jesús García de la Cruz—the man who opened the hole-in-the-wall Mexican space that is Bubu’s on Orange Avenue in Long Beach—the road toward having his own business has been paved with gratitude.
He is, after all, no stranger to the Long Beach food scene. From the kitchens of Open Sesame and Yardhouse to Berlin Bistro and Parker’s Lighthouse, it was the mixture of Mexican determination and the American food industry that brought Chef Jesús, his wife Alondra—whom he met while working at a Lone Star restaurant—and his family to his chiquito-pero-picoso space.
“It was the United States, coming here from Tijuana, that I genuinely felt like, ‘Wow, I can be a chef,'” Chef Jesús said. “I moved here when I was 21, started as a dishwasher, and I have worked at some great restaurants… Every person along the way has my sincere gratitude.”
A native of the great Mexican state of Puebla, the journey to Bubu’s—named after his daughter to remind him of “why all the hard work is important”—hasn’t always been easy. But it sure has been nothing short of fulfilling.
The food of Bubu’s—Mexican in spirit, warming in execution—is a blend of memories, culinary growth, and family recipes.
Every plaza in nearly every Mexican city and town sits an eatery that is for those that want to feel the food of home without actually having to cook at home. They are warmly welcomed, these fondas—and Bubu’s exudes that.
Handmade tortillas using masa from Tortilleria La Fiesta on Pine, the scent of the corn wafting across the tiny space whenever they’re brought to a table. The menudo—a recipe from his mother that has been tweaked by Chef Jesús—is a deep, bloody maroon thanks to hefty doses of chiles, unafraid of chunks of pata melding with honeycomb tripe. Pozole verde that eschews the chicken in favor of a much richer pork…
Hefty chile rellenos—which can be happily stuffed into a burrito. Tacos that are simply well-made, including a classic Ensenada-style fish taco that honors chef’s time in Tijuana. A mole poblano that equally honors the heritage of his home state, Puebla. An array of salsas—from macha and verde to their genuinely great, beautifully rust orange hued, house-invented Bubu’s salsa—to accompany a fine breakfast burrito that is properly layered with beans…
It’s food that is unpretentious in all the right ways, made to order, and somehow feels nostalgic—whether or not you’ve had the privilege of being welcomed into a Mexican household’s kitchen.
Bubu’s, like many immigrant stories, is one of incredibly hard work and sacrifice.
Like many immigrants… Like many restaurant owners… And like many who cook for their community, Chef Jesús and Alondra find it hard not to get emotional when asked about their journey to a brick-and-mortar. Three years in, the work has been nonstop. It has meant less attention toward home and more toward the ultimate goal—independent financial success, while also feeding neighbors.
“My first job was a dishwasher,” Chef Jesús said. “Something I think many native Mexicans immediately get is the cultural clash of everything. The language. The work. Existing in a different environment. And, of course, leaving your family.”
When jokingly asked if they are interested in a second space, Alondra’s face was brutally honest: For as fulfilling as the ride has been, it has taken much from her family. Their time. And their energy. It was a commendable honesty that often hides behind the endless smiles, handshakes, and overall amicable nature the front-facing folks of the food industry are required to put on.
“It’s been a journey,” Alondra said. “And it hasn’t always been easy. You see that this is his entire dream, this place. It’s named after our daughter. Our son, Andy, is now working here. And the community loves his food… It’s not just something we can say, ‘Okay, this didn’t work out,’ and walk away. And, despite how much we might miss him at home, I’m deeply proud of what he has achieved.”
The reality of running a restaurant is far different than the dream—in ways both good and bad.
As a writer, it is increasingly difficult to see such incredibly hard workers talk simultaneously about their struggles while also dismissing those struggles so proudly, because they put their communities before themselves. This becomes all the more compounded when folks like Chef Jesús and Alondra are constantly thanking everyone: their families back home in Mexico. Or their neighbors. Or the writer they insist on feeding well.
But there are real concerns.
“Man, you have these dreams inside your head,” Chef Jesús said. “Because you have experience, you think that people will come to your place like they did the spaces you worked at… But the most difficult thing is when you face the city, there are so many requirements: permits, licenses, payments… You see that you are missing equipment over there or you need to fix the plumbing there… You see that employees have to be trained… All these things add up.”
Bubu’s is an example of insisting upon pride in what you do—and the satisfaction of owning your work.
Of course, beyond the struggles—especially as a space enters year three of operations—the enormously admirable humbleness of folks like Chef Jesús come through: “At the moment, of course, you face a lot of difficulties,” he said, “But those moments can also hold beauty because it helps you grow.”
This is no Hallmark phrase Chef Jesús learned; he lives it when he greets his customers. You see the immense pride, as both a chef and business owner, he feels when he hands a tray full of chilaquiles to someone through a window or he watches someone take a photo of his food.
“Everything takes time,” he said. “Success will come. And it is through knowing that a lot of people support you throughout the struggles… The people who have supported me the most right now are my wife, Alondra, my children, my family from Mexico. The constant, ‘Yes, you can do it.’ So come in. I promise you that the food will be good, you will be welcomed… Give me a chance to look at this path I’ve taken as the right one.”
Bubu’s Restaurant is located at 2017 Orange Ave.
