Meet Joshua Lozano, a professional cook who understands the rules of the masters, but learned how to bend and break them like an artist.

With over 10 years of cooking experience and more than five years working in the front-of-house of restaurants around the West Coast, Joshua has carved out a unique space in hospitality, refusing to conform to traditional systems. His work is driven by burning passion or serving those in his community wherever that may be, taking his services from Michigan, Hawaii, Las Vegas and the ports of Malibu to the open skies of Montana, finally settling in the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. Joshua is currently enjoying time with his family in Kootenai County, awaiting his next adventure, knives in hand, boots laced up, waiting to see where the wind will take him.

1) What's cooking at Vantage Point Brewing these days?

While I wish my colleagues at Vantage Point all the best, my time there has come to a close. As John Muir wisely said, "... into the mountains I go to lose my mind and find my soul." I'm taking the winter to reconnect with my family — because of their unwavering support that fuels my unconventional path. My philosophy is simple: Where there's hunger, I'll be there, cooking. Whether it's crafting elevated dining experiences for the elite or nourishing those in underserved communities, my focus remains the same: "Good food for good people."

2) How did you become interested in being a chef — what is some of your schooling/experience?

My journey to becoming a professional cook wasn't a straight line; it was a series of calculated detours. Looking back, I realize I was always drawn to service, a fundamental element that ultimately redefined my trajectory. It began while managing a groundbreaking tattoo studio. My boss tasked me with weekly meals for artists and high-profile clients. One Christmas, I was asked to cater a party in a $14 million oceanfront mansion. The guest list ballooned by 35% overnight, the menu was a chaotic symphony of childhood food memories and I cooked solo for 48 hours straight, basking in every minute of it. Deep-fried turkey, carnitas, deviled eggs, pumpkin pie and coleslaw graced the menu — pure passion-fueled chaos with no clear direction and zero experience feeding so many. The next day, I told my bosses — the tattoo artists — that I'd found my calling. They, fellow creatives themselves, understood and promised to help me get a jumpstart into the industry by asking all of the chef clients if anybody had an entry level position in their kitchens. With a single knife, burning ambition and an unyielding work ethic, I launched my culinary career and haven't looked back.

3) What is your favorite dish to eat, and what is your favorite dish to make?

It's amusing to be asked this, considering the range of my culinary experiences. From foie gras and A5 Wagyu for the 1% to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for those on Skid Row, my culinary philosophy is about crafting lasting, positive memories. Cooking for someone is an honor. My first chef instilled in me the power of universal languages — money, love, music and, most importantly, food. Food transcends cultures and is essential for survival. It's the language of my soul, and I'm committed to exploring its nuances for life. As for my personal favorite? That's a loaded question for a chef. While I respect my colleagues' privacy on such an intimate matter, I'm drawn to the comforting, simple depths of my childhood, one of them being my father's Mexican-American tacos. He unknowingly fused Hispanic techniques with American ingredients. His tacos — corn tortillas lightly fried in lard, slow-braised ground turkey, minimal seasoning — paired with my mother's classic American toppings — shredded lettuce, yellow cheese, sour cream, salsa and a char-grilled jalapeño — remain my ultimate comfort food.

4) What is something people would be surprised to know about you?

I consider myself a bit of an enigma, a "complicated man," as some colleagues have put it. This summer, you might find me smoking some A5 dry-aged short rib in my Carhartts, a worn Hawaiian shirt or a vintage punk rock tee, Adidas slides, listening to classical music, death metal, gangster rap or reggae, all while enjoying a Cuban cigar. Life has shown me its share of darkness, and I've learned the power of defiant authenticity. Opinions will always exist, but when I face my Creator, it won't be about me and them anyway; it'll be about my legacy and how I impacted others along my journey. Much like the infamous starfish story, if my success, achieved through being true to myself, inspires even one person to pursue their passion, then the struggle will have been worth it.

5) What tips do you have for aspiring culinary artists as they explore new paths to food fame?

Let's be blunt, as most cooks are: Don't chase culinary fame; you won't find it. If you're driven by genuine creativity and a deep desire to provide hospitality to everyone, regardless of background, then take the plunge. Start at the bottom, work your way up, keep your hopes up high, head down low and mouth shut and absorb everything. Question relentlessly when the time permits (i.e. not in the middle of service) and embrace failure like the warmth of a campfire on a fall evening in the Rathdrum mountains. A line from "Yellowstone" (though about a different path) resonates with me deeply: “It’s the most glorious work you can do that nobody ever sees. It takes every inch of ya … you’re gonna risk your life, [and sacrifice everything in your] life, and nobody knows if you won or lost … it’s art without an audience until the day you die.” From experience, I can tell you: If you lack this level of passion, don't bother. You'll only be doing yourself and your community a disservice.