Some restaurants are born from perfectly structured plans.
Others emerge from something far more intuitive: human connection, shared sensitivity, and the desire to create a space that reflects a particular way of feeling.

That is how Alboroto came to life.

For Xarem Guzmán — chef and co-founder of the project — everything began almost accidentally. A mutual friend knew that Natalia and Daniela were looking to open a restaurant and needed a third person to help shape the vision. The introduction felt almost magical, but the understanding between them was immediate.

“It was an instant click.”

From the very beginning, the three shared the same intention: to create a space led by women, where each person could contribute something different through her own perspective. One through the kitchen, another through operations, another through visual language and emotional sensibility.

But beyond opening a restaurant, they wanted to build an experience.

A place that felt alive.

Not minimalist.
Not restrained.
A space filled with color, abundance, texture, and energy.

“We wanted it to feel unmistakably like there were women behind the project.”

And perhaps that is the best way to describe Alboroto: a space that never tries to hold itself back. Tables are filled with dishes meant for sharing, vibrant ingredients, contrasts, movement, and conversation happening all at once.

A beautiful kind of chaos.

Because alboroto was never only meant to be the restaurant’s name. It was also the intention behind it.

“We wanted it to feel like an alboroto at the table.”

Cooking Begins with Observation

Behind all of that visual and emotional energy lies something deeply quiet: observation.

For Xarem, cooking does not begin when the fire hits the pan. It does not even begin with technique. Cooking starts much earlier — in the way you observe an ingredient.

“The moment you begin observing ingredients, you are already giving them space and time.”

She speaks about ingredients as if they carry their own personality. As if they need to be understood before they are transformed. Her philosophy is built around an idea that sounds simple but requires enormous sensitivity: working with the highest quality products possible while intervening as little as necessary.

Not altering for the sake of alteration.
Not transforming simply to demonstrate technique.
But understanding what each ingredient truly needs in order to become its best version.

And that is where ritual appears.

Not as something rigid or ceremonial, but as a constant practice of presence.

Thinking about the right technique. Observing colors. Combining textures. Understanding whether something feels balanced or exaggerated. For her, even color becomes part of the emotional and creative process behind cooking.

“Sometimes I arrive at conclusions simply by combining colors.”

Cooking, then, stops being only about execution and becomes an ongoing conversation between intuition, sensitivity, and observation.

Because cooking also requires listening.

Listening to the ingredient.
Listening to the space.
Listening to the rhythm of the day.

And perhaps that is why her personal rituals begin with something as simple as writing lists.

Before service begins, Xarem needs to empty her mind. To organize processes. To understand sequences. To know what comes first and what follows next. Between turning on the stove, planning the day, and drinking tea in the morning, she finds a quiet form of emotional regulation that allows her to move through the day with more clarity.

“It’s a way of unloading everything that’s inside your head onto paper.”

In an industry where everything moves quickly, her rituals feel like a reminder that slowing down is also part of the work.

The Pause Between Chaos and Presence

Because even though cooking can be deeply beautiful, it can also become chaotic.

There is pressure.
Mistakes.
Tension.
Moments where nothing seems to go exactly as planned.

And still, Xarem has learned something important: breathing is also part of service.

“You take ten seconds that will save you five minutes of continuing to make mistakes.”

When one table goes wrong, she explains, it is easy to enter a chain reaction where everything begins to unravel emotionally. But instead of reacting from anxiety, she has learned to pause.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Clean the station.
Reset the mind.

“That gives you a reset.”

She describes these small moments as invisible rituals — tiny actions that help restore clarity in the middle of chaos. Because for her, cooking is not only about executing perfect dishes; it is also about emotionally sustaining an experience.

And in order to do that, it is important to remember something very simple:

“No one is dying.”

The phrase may sound lighthearted, but it is actually deeply human. A way of returning to perspective and remembering that while cooking matters immensely, maintaining emotional balance matters too.

Because what is truly at stake is not perfection.

It is the possibility of creating a happy moment for someone else.

That awareness has also taught her the importance of observing every part of the restaurant — not only the kitchen. Going out to the floor, understanding the team’s dynamics, paying attention to service, putting herself in other people’s shoes.

Because often, she explains, the kitchen can become so focused on details that it forgets everything happening around it.

And that is where another essential word appears in her relationship with food:

Humility.

“The kitchen keeps you humble.”

Not from a negative place, but from a place of constant learning. From understanding that there will always be something more to improve, something more to observe, something more to understand.

The culinary industry — especially in Mexico — demands complete presence. And perhaps that is why humility itself becomes a daily ritual: waking up every morning knowing there is still more to learn.

More to refine. More to observe.

A Wealthy Note

Not every ritual needs to look sacred.

Sometimes, it lives in the quiet repetition of small things:
writing a list before the day begins,
cleaning your station after making a mistake,
breathing before reacting,
or learning how to truly observe what is in front of you.

Because in the end, cooking is never only about food.

It is about presence.

Watch our full interview:: Youtube
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