What the f* is Ghetto Gastro

by Ghetto Gastro

Breaking bread

Building bridges

Ghetto Gastro is our name.
We stand behind it. We guarantee it. 

Ghetto is used as a way to cue discomfort, to cue the Other. When that unknowable thing is over there, you don’t have to deal with it, you don’t have to be with it. That’s what ghetto is supposed to do—dehumanize. And while we’re aware our name makes a lot of people uncomfortable, to us, ghetto means home. It means innovation. It’s in our name as a reminder of why we do what we do and who we do it for: to honor the under-represented, under-estimated and too often ignored. It’s our calling card. A way to say “we see you,” and a way to make sure y’all see us.

What is Ghetto Gastro? A movement and a philosophy. A culinary collective. It’s a little vague, we know, but we are a difficult crew to contain within boundaries. We call our work gastro diplomacy because we use food and finesse to open borders and connect culture in the same way that hip hop layers samples: as a way to expand, comment, shake up, share, and revel in our collective memory.

We started in 2012 by throwing parties in NYC. Jon has his roots in fashion and art. Pierre and Lester are formally trained chefs. Jon and Lester are originally from the Bronx and grew up as neighbors. Pierre has Bajan roots by way of Connecticut. We’ve all dabbled in the streets, you know. Fortunately, we found other interests and opportunities that were more fulfilling. We discovered that we had friends across creative industries who loved to dine, loved thoughtful food but couldn’t find experiences that spoke to them. We launched with a late-night series called Waffles and Models, and it was exactly what it sounds like. Loud, delicious, and beautiful. As our popularity grew, so did our mission. We didn’t just want to be cooking up good eats and sending folks home. Some of us are parents now. We wanted to make a lasting impact on families and our people. We wanted to surprise and delight but also challenge and innovate.

We found that we can be thoughtful about where we cook, what ingredients we select, how we describe a dish. We’ve learned about the elements that enhance the dining experience, from live music or DJs to art installations. We’ve worked with some of the biggest brands in fashion and design. We’ve brought big Bronx energy to the Place Vendôme in Paris to the TED stage in Vancouver to the harbor of Hong Kong, China. We route funds back to our community in the form of mutual aid. We’ve partnered to sell limited runs of specialty items and big pushes of cookware appliances. We’re building a retail food brand using plant-based ingredients that originate from Africa, Asia, and the Americas, the ancestral roots of the cultures that enrich us. We’re not just trying to sell people stuff. We are intentional with what we do, when we do it, and who we do it with.

We don’t have a brick-and-mortar restaurant (and we don’t plan on one), so we can be nimble. We can think about big concepts autonomously instead of pointing folks to a location where the rent is too damn high. Not having a restaurant has aggravated gatekeepers in food media who seem mystified that a food- centered mission can exist beyond a permanent dining space. Chefs cook outside of restaurants, ya dig? We’re of the mindset that you don’t need a tasting menu to be provocative. And like many of the homegrown organizations and institutions who partner with us, we’ve learned that if we don’t look out for our folks, no one else will.

Food for freedom. Fuel for thought. Everybody eats.

While we know that not everyone can access our products, we want the people from our community and from communities like ours to know that they deserve fun things. We also understand that luxury, while nice, does not transform systemic injustice or resolve the internalized suffering that comes from navigating poverty and police abuse. It’s a balancing act. Money itself is not our aspiration. But until we can count on a social fabric that empathizes with and cares for all human beings equitably, we know that money is a tool that can effect real change. We know this because we’ve written some of the checks. 

Jon Gray, Pierre Serrao, and Lester Walker

Ghetto Gastro Always