If Juan Cruz’s ceviche could talk, it would tell a story of redemption and how his love of Baja-style seafood took him from a coyote to ceviche champion. Cruz is a 35-year-old marisquero who speaks with the rough tongue and swagger of a Mexican Goodfella if the Goodfellas were based in the California and Mexico border instead of Brooklyn. He’ll address you with the utmost respect and carries himself with the humbleness that’s earned after experiencing an unbridled youth.
As you walk up to El Jefe Baja Style's mariscos trailer parked somewhere in the San Bernandino area, three things will stand out. First, you might notice the 40 different bottles of hot sauces lined up out front. A Ceviche Rumble trophy in the window might catch your eye. But you might miss the large image of Juan Cruz inviting you to cross the U.S. and Mexico border through a barbed-wire fence he's pulling open with his foot and one hand.
At first, Cruz was shy about elaborating more on his young life. Not because he's ashamed, but out of respect for his mother. His mom has already had to deal with all his "bullshit and headaches" as he puts it since his father abandoned them when he was a boy. "She was both my mom and my dad." But in the end, Cruz agreed to share a bit of his story despite his mother's pressing concern; according to him, "Que va pensar la familia?" What's the family going to think? This is a common trope with old-school Latino parents.