For longtime fans of The Bamboo Club, the announcement of new ownership easily triggers anxiety, especially after the departure of longtime barhead, Dustin Rodriguez: What changes? What disappears? What gets “fixed” that never felt broken?
Kevin Larsen understands that fear—and, frankly, he wishes he could skip ahead a year just to prove everyone can exhale. And see that he isn’t here to fix anything. Well, except that broken stool.
“I wish I could fast-forward into a year from now,” Kevin said, “and people would be like, ‘It’s exactly the same still. He’s still not messing with it.’”
That sentiment defines his approach as the newly minted owner of one of Long Beach’s most beloved neighborhood bars, purchased from Jim Ritson following the earlier departure of co-owner Brett Gallo. Where many new owners arrive with sweeping plans and immediate declarations, his first instinct has been restraint: learn first, adjust carefully, and protect what already works.
Kevin Larsen is a longtime industry vet—and that is exactly what a space like The Bamboo Club should have as a new owner.
That instinct comes from decades spent understanding exactly how fragile a bar’s identity can be.
Kevin’s hospitality roots stretch back more than two decades through Long Beach’s restaurant and bar scene. His early years included stops at L’Opera and The Madison before moving to the original Yard House—back when Downtown Long Beach’s dining landscape looked dramatically different.
“This was early 2000s,” he recalled. “It was the OG Yard House. There wasn’t much around yet.”
From there, he joined the opening team at Gaslamp Restaurant & Bar, working under Jennifer MacDonnell, one of the eventual sellers of the business. By his late twenties, he shifted from operations into beverage distribution, spending 19 years building a career through Southern Wine & Spirits and later Republic National Distributing Company.
The cost of corporate living eventually hits most—and it most certainly did for Kevin.
That corporate chapter offered stability in many ways: weekends off, predictable hours, and a structure that aligned with family life after he met his wife and started a household with two sons, a mortgage, and three dogs. But stability came with an emotional cost.
“The last couple of years in corporate life, I was really unhappy,” he said. “I was beholden to the paycheck and, at some point, just disconnected through the mechanical repetition of it all.”
Then came an unexpected opening. After being swept up in RNDC’s 2024 layoffs, he suddenly found himself with severance, time, and a question about what came next. The answer arrived by accident—literally while driving. One July morning, after dropping his sons at junior lifeguards, he missed his usual exit and found himself passing Bamboo Club.
“For some reason, I came up Redondo,” he said. “I passed Bamboo Club and thought: call Jim right now and tell him I want to buy a bar.”
By 3PM that same day, he was sitting with Jim, discussing whether the bar might actually be available.
‘You’re crazy—but do it.’
It turned out the timing aligned perfectly. Within days, he had told his wife and was met with a stern but happy, “You’re crazy—but do it.”
He quickly assembled investors, built a pitch deck, and by early September had entered escrow. Now inside ownership, his operating philosophy is simple: don’t disrupt what gives Bamboo Club its identity.
That doesn’t mean nothing changes. It means changes happen carefully, often invisibly. He has already brought on chef Joe Herrera—known locally for work at Colussus and other respected kitchens—to quietly evaluate food operations. But his instructions were immediate: learn first, touch nothing unnecessarily.
“The first month, I told him: just learn about us, how it all works,” Kevin said. “We want changes to feel organic, not force.”
Kevin’s main goal with Bamboo Club? Sharper execution, more consistency.
Instead of sweeping reinvention and renovations, he sees menu evolution the way strong neighborhood restaurants always handle it: gradual refinement. A few cleaner choices. Sharper execution. And more consistency—kinda like its last menu update.
He talks about reducing menu clutter rather than reinventing favorites. That is, keeping staples, tightening offerings, and focusing on dishes that match what people actually want from a tiki bar. Strong snacks. Strong sandwiches. And food that shares well, the spirit of The Bamboo Club’s food offerings since the days Chef Melissa Ortiz was there.
“We should be really good at five or six things,” he said. “Four fire sandwiches. Great appetizers. Things people actually come in here for.”
That means longtime staples may get slight adjustments, but not identity loss. Some brunch-heavy offerings may shift toward a broader lunch model, especially since most guests still gravitate toward burgers and sandwiches rather than traditional brunch dishes.
Cocktails, meanwhile, remain central to Bamboo Club’s DNA.
Kevin’s bigger excitement sits beyond the kitchen: restoring some of the venue’s old communal energy.
In May, he plans to revive live music programming, aiming for monthly bands on third Saturdays—bringing back one of the social rhythms many regulars remember fondly.
“We’re bringing back the music series,” he said. “We’re going to do a Saturday banger once a month.”
That balance—preserve the spirit while gently tuning the machinery—is exactly what he hopes regulars eventually recognize. Because for him, buying Bamboo Club was never about imprinting himself loudly onto the space.
It was about protecting a bar he already understood mattered. And if his first year succeeds, he knows the highest compliment will be not noticing a new owner at all.
The Bamboo Club is located at 3522 E. Anaheim St.
