“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be OK. My physical body may not, but I’ll be fine.”
I’ll never forget those deep, haunting words from Chef Joshua Gil as he sat across the table from me at his final Supper Liberation Front dinner pop-up at Surfas Culinary District in Arlington Heights on December 17, 2024. With a grin, he served me a thick slice of his savory Basque cheesecake topped with a tongue of uni.
I held those words close to my heart as I received the news on the morning of June 22, on the gentle slope of the summer solstice after the longest day of the year, that he had moved on from this realm after giving colorectal cancer hell for four years.
He is survived by his two daughters, Aaron and Maya Gil, his parents, Gabriel and Nellie Gil, and his longtime partner, Tharini Shanmugarajah.
That night Josh looked me in the eyes, as he always did, with a gaze that saw right through your damn spirit, with his familiar mix of defiance, warmth, and quiet acceptance of the cards he was dealt.
We both smiled because we both knew he was in the middle of transcending, like everyone else who attended that supper. He somehow still managed to cook a multi-course meal along with chef Diego Hernandez, who made the trek from Baja just to cook alongside him for the night, and chef Brad Miller of Inn at the Seventh Ray.
That final edition of the SLF (the acronym inspired by the Animal Liberation Front—ALF—the anarchist international, leaderless, decentralized movement that emerged in Britain in the 1970s) maintained with the same punk-rock intensity that defined his entire career, refusing to let illness dim his anti-todo ethos.
That meal will forever hold a place among the best meals of my life.
Josh was a revolutionary, Hernandez tells L.A. TACO. “With his pop-up, he was a pioneer in uniting chefs from Alta and Baja California, and he made fine dining more accessible. His light never faded because he always knew what he was born to do.” They both worked together at Hernandez's pioneering fine dining restaurant in Valle de Guadalupe, Corazón de Tierra.
What Josh Gil began in a punk squat house grew into a powerful platform for radical hospitality, cross-border collaboration between Alta and Baja California chefs, and the democratization of fine dining.
Gil has been an ungovernable force in L.A.’s food scene since he first broke through while working at Joe’s in Venice and helping the restaurant earn one of L.A.’s first-ever Michelin stars in 2007.
A Riverside (or “Ripperside” as his punk rock frontman brother famously sang about!) raised, Baja California-influenced chef, he co-founded the groundbreaking underground supper club Supper Liberation Front in 2009, one of the earliest and most influential pop-up series in L.A. and beyond. What Gil started in a punk squat house evolved into a platform for radical hospitality, cross-cultural collaboration, and democratization of fine dining.
Chefs, winemakers, and artists from all over came together to create unforgettable, boundary-pushing meals that Gil always intended for the very line cooks these lavish meals usually alienated.
He went on to open taquerías that changed the game: Tacos Punta Cabras in Santa Monica, which redefined the fish taco and coctel de camarón for a new generation, and that, to this day, is still my favorite fish taco in Los Angeles of all time. He then helped further Mexican cuisine by opening Mírame in Beverly Hills. Then, eventually, Mírate in Los Feliz. Most recently, even while battling Stage IV colorectal cancer, he poured his remaining energy into Three Flames in Westchester, which was a reimagining of a classic Mongolian BBQ spot infused with his signature Baja-meets-California soul.
Diagnosed in 2022, I’ll never forget where I was when Josh broke the news personally: At Hollywood Forever, where his family will have his celebration of life, in the same holy ground as half of The Ramones. Josh faced his illness with the same stubborn resilience he brought to every kitchen. He continued cooking, creating, and gathering his community long after many would have stepped away. He spoke openly about nearly dying, about chemotherapy that nearly broke him, yet he kept returning to what he loved most: feeding people, challenging conventions, and building something meaningful.
To know Josh was almost to know yourself. His bullshit meter was legendary, and there was no such thing as small talk with him. He was a self-proclaimed “pirate in the kitchen,” a liberator of spirits at heart, and a deeply generous soul who mentored countless chefs and touched thousands of diners. His food wasn’t just about technique; it was about resistance and joy, challenging your palate yet keeping you coming back for more, and more, and more.
As I mourn the loss of my friend, Chef Joshua Gil, at the age of 50, I hold tightly to the words he shared with me that final night. His physical body may have given out, but his spirit, his influence, and the countless memories he created around tables across Los Angeles will be just fine.
The Supper Liberation Front lives on through every chef he inspired and every diner who carries his rebellious, beautiful energy forward. And the list is long, from talented taqueros continuing to evolve L.A.’s Taco Life in real time and a three-Michelin-star French chef, among many others.
Thank you for the meals, the sips of rare-ass mezcales that you brought across the border yourself to always share with friends, the conversations over loud power chords we enjoyed at the folk punk shows, and the sazón legacy you are leaving behind that will linger like the kick in your cashew salsa in your hamachi tostadas.
I will be playing Falling Sickness all this week, particularly the song “Runaway,” which Josh’s brother, Gabriel, wrote about him.
Old punks never die. May you be eternally slam-dancing in the pit with your brother, forever untamed and full of fire.
