Live Fire Cooking at Alto

In an Age of Precision, Chefs Want Fire

10 Minute read

22 Jun 2026

Amber Love Bond

Writer

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As restaurant kitchens become increasingly controlled and technology-driven, many chefs are embracing a cooking method built on instinct, patience, and unpredictability.

For decades, professional kitchens chased precision.

Sous vide machines, induction burners, combi ovens, and molecular techniques promised greater control over every aspect of cooking. Yet across the country, many chefs are embracing a cooking method built on a very different principle: live fire.

From Los Angeles and Miami to Houston and Nashville, chefs are turning to wood, charcoal, and open flame not simply for flavor, but for what those tools demand. Unlike modern kitchen technology, fire refuses to behave exactly the same way twice. It requires instinct, attention, and a willingness to surrender a degree of control.

"Control is not a word in our vocabulary," says Aaron Fletcher, pitmaster at Noko in Nashville. "We guide, tend, coax and feed the fire."

Unpredictability is central to the appeal. At Mayfair Grill in Miami, chef Giorgio Rapicavoli says cooking over flame introduces "a lack of control," forcing cooks to rely less on preset temperatures and more on experience. Instead of dialing in heat, chefs spend their time tending the fire itself. "You're stoking the fire, balancing the fire, creating that temperature through time, effort, and knowledge," he says.

What Fire Gives Back

For many chefs, live fire is not just another technique. It is a way back to a more physical, intuitive style of cooking.

"We went from something very primitive and ancestral to something we're elevating into molecular cuisine," says Juana Castellanos of Alto in Los Angeles. "And now we are coming back to the beginning." Castellanos believes diners are responding to the same impulse. "People are looking for more real experiences," she says.

At Rosie Cannonball in Houston, chef Felipe Riccio compares live fire to an improvisational conversation. "You're constantly moving things, raising or lowering grates, shifting ingredients around," he says. "You're always learning how to handle it."

Fletcher calls working with fire both "meditative and mesmerizing." Ben Poremba, owner of Esca in St. Louis, goes even further. "It flickers, it breathes, it lives," he says.

Fire demands attention in a way few other cooking methods do. Leave it unattended and it changes. Ignore it and it disappears. At Alto, chef Esteban Klenzi believes that relationship is learned rather than taught. "It's a connection," he says. "You feel the fire, you see the smoke, you understand how your day is going to be with it."

Unlike recipes or techniques that can be documented and repeated, working with live fire requires patience, observation, and experience.

Fire as an Ingredient

Of course, philosophy alone wouldn't explain the resurgence of live-fire cooking. Fire also produces flavors and textures that are difficult to replicate any other way.

"Live fire cooking with wood and coals allows the fuel to become flavor," says Fletcher.

The influence extends beyond smoke. At Stellar Jay in Denver, executive chef Blaise Colamarino points to the range of heat live fire provides, from direct flame to slow cooking over coals. "It gives you multiple layers of heat to work with at once," he says, allowing chefs to approach a single ingredient in different ways across the hearth.

For Poremba, the impact is often most noticeable in texture. "It's the bark on steak, the crispy skin on fish or chicken," he says. "That sharp contrast between the caramelized exterior and the tender interior."

Vegetables may be the clearest example of fire's transformative power. "Vegetables do incredibly well," says Riccio. "Fire brings out their natural sugars and adds complexity."

At The Dixboro Project in Michigan, chef Garrett Lipar uses carrots as an example. "It transports such a simple ingredient into something incredibly complex," he says, citing the deep browning and rich flavor created in a wood-fired hearth. Rapicavoli agrees, highlighting ingredients such as mushrooms and greens that absorb smoke and heat in ways that amplify their character.

In some cases, fire doesn't simply enhance an ingredient. It becomes the defining characteristic of the dish. At Mayfair Grill, Rapicavoli singles out his grilled dates, which become "smoky, caramelized and chewy" over the flame. The transformation is so dramatic that he says they become "bigger than itself."

Even chefs who use live fire regularly are careful not to let smoke dominate. At Alto, Castellanos compares it to seasoning. "For us, the smokiness is like salt," she says. "You don't want to add too much, but every dish is elevated by it." Fire can easily overpower. Knowing how much to use is often as important as knowing when to use it.

For all its appeal, live fire has limitations.

Rapicavoli is quick to name one: grilled watermelon. Others caution that certain ingredients demand a lighter touch. Sugar-heavy foods can burn before they properly cook, while more delicate ingredients require careful management of heat and distance from the flame.

There are misconceptions, too. Some diners assume everything cooked over fire should taste intensely smoky. Others equate char with overcooking. In practice, chefs say the opposite is often true. The goal isn't intensity for its own sake, but balance.

That's why many of the chefs most devoted to live fire spend as much time talking about moderation as they do smoke. The challenge isn't getting flavor from the fire. It's knowing when to stop.

Live fire demands patience, attention, and a willingness to give up a degree of control. In an era defined by precision, that may be exactly what chefs are looking for.