At Spicewalla, we’re constantly inspired by chefs who season their craft with purpose — and few embody that more than Luis Martinez (@luismartinezcreative), the Oaxacan-born chef, community advocate, and founder of Tequio Foods.
Through his cooking and collective work, Luis honors Indigenous farmers, immigrant stories, and the heirloom ingredients that have sustained generations. His mission is as soulful as it is delicious: to bridge ancestral wisdom with modern kitchens and make Indigenous food sovereignty visible, celebrated, and shared.
In this Chef Spotlight, Luis opens up about his culinary journey — from his family’s kitchen in Oaxaca to leading a movement for food justice and cultural preservation in Asheville.
His story is a reminder that food is more than nourishment; it’s connection, ceremony, and resistance.
Luis Martinez on Honoring the Land, Ancestral Wisdom & the Power of Food
For Chef Luis Martinez, food isn’t just something to eat — it’s a living story.
As the founder of Tequio Foods, Luis is redefining what it means to cook with intention, weaving Indigenous wisdom, sustainability, and artistry into every dish. From his roots in Oaxaca to his work in Asheville and beyond, Luis continues to amplify Indigenous voices and traditions, one heirloom ingredient at a time.
Luis’s cooking is equal parts memory, mission, and magic, blending ancestral ingredients with modern techniques to tell stories that nourish more than just the body.
SW: We’re such huge fans of the work you do. Can you tell us a little about what your general mission is as a chef?
LM: I believe my mission, as a chef and a human being, is to honor the land, our ancestors, and the traditions that have nourished our people for generations.
Food is not just sustenance; it’s memory, ceremony, and connection.
Through Tequio and my cooking, I want to create bridges between Indigenous knowledge and modern kitchens, showing that ancestral ingredients and techniques are not relics — they are living, powerful, and profoundly relevant today.
My goal is to uplift Indigenous farmers in Mexico, while also discussing the role of immigrants and native people in the service industry in the USA, who have preserved their heirloom crops and shared their stories through flavour, especially during this time.
Every meal is a chance to celebrate resilience, reciprocity, and community.
SW: What’s your culinary background? When did food first feel essential to you?
LM: I didn't grow up thinking I'd be a chef — in fact, I studied fine arts and am also a graphic designer.
However, I grew up understanding food as a symbol of love and responsibility.
I come from a family where the kitchen was the heart of the home. My earliest memories are of my grandmother grinding corn, my mother tending to beans on the stove, and the aroma of roasted chiles filling the air in my house in the Loxicha region.
It wasn't about fancy dishes — it was about feeding empty stomachs and souls.
When I came to the USA, I started working as a farmworker in Indio, California. After I moved to Los Angeles, returning to work in kitchens came very naturally, as I had previously worked in kitchens in Oaxaca. After that, I had the opportunity to train under amazing chefs and work in incredible restaurants in California, Oregon, and Washington until I moved to NC to continue working with great people, farmers, and restaurants in Asheville.
As I formally trained later in life and didn't attend a Culinary school, I feel that my cooking education came from the various kitchens I have worked in, as well as my family's kitchens, where I learned from elders how to listen to the ingredients, seasons, and the earth.
Food felt essential from the very beginning because it was how we cared for one another.
SW: The company you’re CEO for, tequiofoods, is so unique. Talk about how it got started and what you all work to do.
LM: Tequio Foods was born from a simple but powerful question: How can I honor Indigenous ingredients while empowering Indigenous hands in Mexico?
“Tequio” is a Zapotec word from Oaxaca that means “collective work for the common good.”
That’s what we stand for. We partner with Indigenous farmers and cooperatives, source heirloom ingredients — like native corn, beans, and chiles — and craft products that carry those stories forward.
It started as a small project, rooted in respect and reciprocity, and it’s grown into a movement to make Indigenous food sovereignty visible and celebrated.
SW: We love that you’re repping and uplifting indigenous folks with everything you do. What does it feel like to be such an important part of so many people’s lives?
LM: I try to remind myself that I am doing what I can, and that my path is simply contributing to something greater—something my ancestors fought for, shedding blood and tears, and staying resilient to keep our culture alive even under the harshest conditions.
When people tell me our work reminds them of home or helps them reconnect with their roots, I feel deeply humbled. It’s not about fame; it’s about healing, pride, and belonging. Being part of that is a blessing beyond words.
SW: What’s a hot take you have about food? Something everyone else seems to love, but you can’t get behind? An underrated ingredient?
LM: Okay — I’ll say it!
I’ve never quite understood the obsession with overly sweet desserts. I think balance is key — a little bitterness, a touch of salt, complexity.
As for underrated ingredients, epazote deserves way more love. Epazote is earthy, aromatic, and transforms a simple pot of beans into something sacred.
So, what exactly is epazote? Epazote is an herb that's "commonly used in the cuisines and traditional medicines of central and southern Mexico and Guatemala. Epazote has a strong taste and aroma, so not everyone takes to it right away. It can be somewhat of an acquired taste, but it adds a wonderful rustic layer of flavor to many dishes."
SW: What kind of challenges have you faced in the food world? How do you think they helped shape your view in general?
LM: The food industry can be harsh—there’s constant pressure to conform, to “modernize” or “elevate” in ways that can erase cultural identities.
Additionally, navigating an industry that sometimes romanticizes Indigenous cuisine without genuinely respecting Indigenous communities is challenging. As an immigrant in the US, it's often necessary to work ten times harder to earn respect, yet sometimes that effort still feels insufficient.
However, these challenges have reinforced my determination. They have shown me that integrity is essential and cannot be compromised. Remaining true to oneself is the most revolutionary action you can take.
SW: What, who, and where keep you feeling inspired? Is it people, food, music, a place, or a mix of all the above? How do you stay inspired when things feel hard?
LM: I find inspiration everywhere — from Oaxaca farmers, my mother's songs, and the sunrise over maize fields.
Music, art, poetry, and returning to Oaxaca keep me rooted.
During heavy times, I reconnect with the land, touch the soil, and visit my elders and family. We often laugh, mostly at myself, as they help me stay humble and remind me that our purpose is to nourish, remember, and give thanks.
SW: What’re some things in the industry you wish more people knew about?
LM: I hope more people recognize the intense labor behind every ingredient—the hands that plant, harvest, grind, and cook.
I wish that Indigenous knowledge, farmworkers' efforts, and fair wages for women were more valued, as a notable pay gap remains.
Food is inherently political. Every decision we make—what we purchase, waste, or celebrate—carries power.
SW: If you weren’t doing the work you’re doing now, what do you think you'd be doing?
LM: If I weren’t doing this, I think I’d still be a storyteller — maybe through art, or community organizing. But it would always come back to the same thing: amplifying Indigenous voices, immigrants, and farmworkers.
SW: Tell us a little bit about what folks can be doing to help your mission! Where can we find your work? Where can we spend money?
You can support our mission by attending our events and residences, subscribing to our newsletter, purchasing directly from tequiofoods.com, following us on social media (@tequiofoods & @luismartinezcreative on IG) and sharing our story.
I am hosting a residency in Charleston this November at 73 Spring St, in the historic Kultura space, featuring a concept called Xolo that showcases Oaxacan cuisine and heirloom corn in Charleston. To get updates, follow @XoloCharleston! You can also head to xolocharleston.com to see the menu, or make a resy and come say hey 👋
Beyond that, please support Indigenous makers, farmers, and chefs wherever you are. Get to know the people behind your food.
We also team up with community kitchens, food sovereignty initiatives, and cultural events—every purchase helps sustain these efforts. Together, we can create a food system that’s not only flavorful but also just.