People ask me if it’s hard to combine two cuisines as different as Italian and Southwest.

I tell them it’s not hard—it’s natural.

Italian food, at its heart, is about a few good ingredients prepared with respect. The Southwest? Same thing. Fire, smoke, chile, corn—it’s simple, powerful, and rooted in tradition. Put those two philosophies together, and you get something bold, honest, and deeply personal.

When I make pasta, it starts the way my grandmother showed me: a mound of flour, a well of eggs, hands in the dough until it feels like silk. That part hasn’t changed. But what happens after the pasta’s rolled is where I take some liberties.

Take my green chile agnolotti. It’s not something you’ll find in Rome or Santa Fe, but it lives somewhere between. Roasted Hatch chiles folded into the filling with ricotta and a touch of cumin. The sauce? Brown butter with smoked paprika and citrus zest. Italian shape, Southwest soul.

Or my pine nut and chipotle pesto. It’s not pesto Genovese, but it’s not trying to be. It’s what happens when you grow up near sagebrush and still dream in basil.

I don’t do fusion for the sake of being clever. I do it because these are the flavors that speak to me. The herbs I crush in my mortar aren’t always traditional, sometimes they’re wild thyme picked near the Truckee River. The cheeses I use might be aged locally instead of imported from Parma. And you know what? They work.

What keeps it all grounded is technique. You can get playful with ingredients, but you have to respect the structure. If you’re making risotto, don’t rush it. If you’re braising, don’t drown the meat. Patience is universal.

Blending traditions isn’t about forcing ingredients to play nice—it’s about finding the overlapping notes and letting them sing. Acidity, texture, salt, fat, fire. These things cross every border.

People sometimes ask what kind of food I cook. I usually say it’s Italian by way of the Sierra. Or maybe it’s just what happens when you grow up on garlic and live surrounded by mesquite.

Either way, it tastes like home.