Animo

Fire as the first station

At the open hearth, Joshua Smookler works as chef at Animo in New York City, keeping the pass close to flame, smoke, and the timing of whole fish. His path to this station runs through New York kitchens built on repetition and control: Bouley, then Per Se, then Mu Ramen, where he moved from execution into authorship as chef and co-owner. At Animo, that training does not disappear into polish. It gives the cooking its frame. Smookler was born in Korea, adopted by a Jewish family in New York, and raised with more than one inheritance at the table; the kitchen folds Korean, Basque, Spanish, and Jewish references into one working language rather than treating them as separate lanes. His wife, Heidy He, helped launch Animo around the phrase “ex animo,” from the heart, sincerely. The house has called the restaurant a living entity, “phase one,” which suits the way the food reads: personal, direct, still under revision by the hands that make it.

A glass cabinet, a wood fire, a whole turbot

The method here is not built around garnish. It begins with aging, heat, and cut. Prime beef, Iberico pork, and whole turbot sit in a glass-front cabinet before they meet the fire; rib eye for two, lamb chops, and Wagyu move from seasoning to hearth with the discipline of a kitchen that understands pace. Smookler’s ramen years still show in the way flavor is layered, not decorated. Kimchi-pastrami fried rice carries speed, salt, fat, and fermentation in one gesture. XO sauces sharpen the Korean register. Gambas al ajillo and chorizo-clams bring the Basque and Spanish side closer to the pan. Whole dry-aged turbot asks for restraint, because the fish gives little cover to a cook who misses the moment. The program favors Pacific seafood, heirloom produce, and the agricultural pull of wine country, but the center is the fire: wood, timing, and the decision to let a large piece of fish or meat hold the plate.

The room beside the stacks of wood

The room began as a former taqueria, whitewashed and reset around an open cooking hearth. Wood stacks outside make the fuel visible before the first plate lands; palm trees soften the edge of the building, but the kitchen keeps the mood practical. This is not a hushed room built to hide the labor. The pass shows its method. Heat gathers, pans move, and the smell of smoke gives shape to the meal before the server names a dish. Family-style cooking matters here because it changes the tempo of the table: whole turbot to divide, rib eye for two to carve, fried rice that arrives with enough weight to anchor the spread. Smookler’s work at Animo is easiest to read in those shared dishes, where a New York-trained hand uses fire, fermentation, and memory without separating them. At Animo, the glass-front cabinet and the whole turbot reflect Joshua Smookler's trust.