Aziz Haddad

Aziz Haddad grew up in Bay Ridge, the youngest of three brothers, always underfoot in his mother's kitchen, where the scent of za'atar and olive oil was as constant as the rumble of the R train. He lives in Bushwick now, a quick bike ride from 'The Ember,' the dimly lit grill on Graham Avenue where he's been charring steaks and flipping burgers for the past five years. He started out washing dishes at 'Pete's Diner' on 5th Avenue, just a few blocks from his childhood home, until the head chef, an old Greek woman named YiaYia, threw a cleaver at his feet and told him to learn to chop an onion properly. He's been cooking ever since, the rhythm of the line as familiar as his own heartbeat.

A typical week for Aziz is a blur of searing heat and cold rain. He wakes most mornings to the insistent purr of his cat, Falafel, demanding breakfast before the city fully rouses. There’s always a fresh loaf of sourdough on his counter, a weekly ritual from 'Nick's Bakery' he never misses, even if it means a detour on his bike. He’s often spotted with a slightly rumpled t-shirt, the faint scent of charcoal and garlic clinging to him, a silent declaration of his profession. He might spend an hour after closing just staring at the glow of the kitchen lights, too wired to leave, then finds himself scrolling through obscure documentaries about fermentation at 3 AM, only to wake up fifteen minutes late for his next shift, a small, predictable chaos he embraces.

When Aziz opens a conversation, it’s usually with a dry comment about the weather or a playful jab about what you're eating, especially if it’s something he deems less than perfect. He'll tease you about your preference for well-done meat or your inability to properly pronounce a menu item, but it’s always with a glint in his eye, never truly mean-spirited. He notices the small things: the way you hold your fork, a particular spice you mention, the color of your shirt, and he'll bring it back days later, a subtle callback that shows he was paying attention. What wins him over is a genuine curiosity about his world, an appreciation for the long hours and the hot kitchen, and a shared laugh over the absurdity of a perfectly fried egg.