Juan Luis Martínez

Barranco, Lima

Juan Luis Martínez is the kind of chef whose presence quietly fills a room—not with bravado, but with intention. Thoughtful, soft-spoken, and deeply committed to his craft, he speaks about cooking with reverence, curiosity, and a sense of personal evolution. His journey from Caracas to Lima traces more than just geography—it’s a story of transformation. From his early days cooking for friends in college, inspired by food shows and weekend trips to the market, he has consistently sought not just to make food, but to make meaning.

Today, Juan Luis leads Mérito, Clon, and Demo. His approach blends the flavors of his Venezuelan roots with the rich biodiversity of Peru, always grounded in respect for the ingredient and the people behind it. Since its opening in 2018, Mérito has steadily gained international recognition, rising through Latin America’s 50 Best lists and, in 2025, debuting on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants ranking.

How did you end up in Peru?

I arrived in 2014. I came because I wanted to intern at Central after seeing Virgilio in Madrid and Fusión, and being blown away by the incredible work he was doing with the restaurant. I’d also wanted to come to Peru for a long time—to visit Machu Picchu, to eat a great ceviche. Once I saw what Virgilio was doing, it was a no-brainer. I had to be part of it.

So I came for an internship at Central, and then they offered me a job. I ended up working there for two years. After that, I felt it was time to start something of my own. My daughter was born here too, so staying close to her made sense. That’s what ultimately led me to open my restaurant here in Lima—and now, seven years later, here we are.

When did you know you wanted to be a chef?

Honestly, it happened pretty late—I started cooking at 27. I’m 45 now. I studied social communication in the U.S., mostly to please my family, who wanted me to finish a degree. I also felt like I needed to do something, but I wasn’t passionate about it. I was still searching.

A year after graduating, back in Venezuela, my dad told me it was time to figure out what I wanted to do. I spoke to a friend from college and told him I still didn’t know what direction to take. He gave me great advice: “You should try cooking. You like it, and you’re good at it.” And I thought—really?

Back in college, I used to cook for my friends. Thanks to that conversation, I signed up for a course, and after that very first trial class—super basic—I was hooked. I never looked back.

What kind of cooking did you do for your friends in college?

I got into shows like Emeril Lagasse’s on the Food Network, and one called Great Chefs of the World on the Travel Channel, where they’d film chefs in kitchens around the world. I started getting really into it.  Instead of going out clubbing, I’d save my money to shop at the good local market—the one with high-quality meat and fish. I’d host weekend barbecues just so my friends could try whatever I was working on.

Were you always a foodie, even as a kid?

I think I have my grandmother to thank for that. When I was at school in Boston and later in Connecticut, she had an apartment in Manhattan. I’d spend weekends with her there, and she would take me out to restaurants she liked. At the time, I had no idea where we were going—I was just tagging along—but I was eating really well. Later, I realized she had been taking me to Michelin-starred places.

She definitely played a role in shaping my love for food. I also grew up around amazing cooks. My mom was a great cook, and the cooks in our home were fantastic. At my grandfather’s house in Spain, there were cooks who made unbelievable food—my first paella, my first monkfish, which I remember had a texture like lobster. Those are vivid memories. So yes, good food has always been part of my life.

When you went out with your grandmother in New York, was there a particular restaurant that really stayed with you?

Yes, there was one we used to visit often. She lived on 63rd and Lexington, and just a few blocks up—around 67th—there was this tiny Italian restaurant. I think it had a Michelin star, though I didn’t know what that meant at the time.

What I do remember are the pasta dishes I tried there. And to this day, my favorite dessert is tiramisu. The one they made at that restaurant left such a strong impression on me. Every time I make tiramisu now, I try to recreate that version.

So when are you going to serve that tiramisu?

Well, I actually gave the recipe to Diego—he serves it at Indio, the pizzeria.

What about at Clon?

The only place we serve it is at Demo. At Clon, we’re doing a reinterpretation of tiramisu, but it’s not quite the same.

I think each space—Clon, Mérito, and Demo—has its own very clear identity now, and they’re all tied closely to local producers.

How would you describe the style or identity of Mérito and Clon?

It’s rooted in my Venezuelan heritage and in local ingredients that have strong cultural identities. You look at a product like mashua or olluco and you immediately know it’s from Peru, from Latin America. Those ingredients define us.

Then come the Venezuelan flavors—sometimes subtle, sometimes more direct. You might find an arepa, or go to Clon and see a “vuelve a la vida” ceviche, a dish you’d typically eat at the beach in Venezuela. Clon leans more into tradition—recipes, recognizable flavors, dishes with established names.

Mérito, on the other hand, has more of its own voice. It’s about expression through the product—showcasing ingredients in new ways, constantly trying to discover something different. That’s Mérito.

Demo is more casual, more democratic—it’s a bakery. But it still carries a lot of Venezuelan traditions and celebrates Peruvian culture too. Those are our two cultural pillars: Venezuela and Peru. But always interpreted through our own lens.

What was your experience like working at Central?

Incredible. I loved it. It nourished me in every sense. First, it introduced me to something completely new: the ingredients. What I encountered at Central was unlike anything I’d seen in France, Spain, or even Venezuela, where I trained. I learned to truly value the ingredient itself—and to understand the concept behind it all. I realized a restaurant isn’t just a place to eat and share a meal. Of course, it should be that, but it can also be so much more. That’s what Central taught me.

Do you think your background in communications has helped you?

I think so. But what initially drew me to communications was the visual side—not so much what I do now, which involves speaking, sharing a message, and expressing ideas verbally. I actually preferred being behind the camera, away from the spotlight. I’m not very extroverted—more the opposite, really. The kitchen gave me that same sense of safety the camera once did.

Now, I draw on those skills in a different way: I manage the restaurant’s social media and take all the photos of our dishes. And with Michelle—my wife—we’ve built this sensory world that’s deeply connected to communication and human connection.

That brings me to something related—you’ve created a very special design language in your spaces. You have three places: Mérito, Clon, and Demo. All of them have such thoughtful, beautiful aesthetics. What’s your creative process like when it comes to design?

It all started with Mérito. From the beginning, I knew I wanted to be in Barranco. That neighborhood offers something unique—history, culture, artistic expression through music and visual arts. You feel it. That energy became the foundation for the restaurant.

Then I found the space— when I saw its adobe walls, it spoke to me. I’ve always been drawn to humble materials—they carry you to another time, a time full of stories. That’s something you can’t fake.

For me, it’s essential that spaces have history—whatever kind of history, as long as it has something to say. A new space, no matter how beautiful or efficient, always feels like it’s missing a bit of seasoning, to use a kitchen metaphor.

That’s the thread connecting Mérito, Clon, and Demo: the adobe walls, the wood—I love working with wood—and our commitment to using local materials. With Michelle, we’ve even started developing new materials for our projects. Every piece of furniture you see, we designed ourselves. Everything in those spaces carries a piece of us—our hands, our touch.

Is Michelle an architect?

She’s a designer.

How would you compare working in fine dining restaurants in Europe versus Latin America?

They’re very similar in some ways, but also quite different. Both are demanding, no doubt about that. But in Europe, there’s a long-standing tradition of professional training across the entire hospitality industry—restaurants, hotels, you name it. Hospitality education runs deep there. It exists in the U.S. too, but Europe has been doing it longer. People actually go to school specifically for this.

Here in Latin America, that culture is just beginning to take shape. So in high-end restaurants, having staff who are professionally trained makes a huge difference—people who bring both passion and a legacy, with a deep sense of commitment. That’s still a gap we’re working to close. But I think Latin America is starting to understand the value of hospitality professionals—realizing that someone who serves at the table isn’t “just a waiter,” but a trained specialist in service and in making people feel cared for. And that deserves to be taken seriously.

What’s missing in Peru to get its first Michelin star?

First of all, the Michelin Guide needs to come to Peru. That’s the first step. And that’s more of a political and economic decision—it’s about systems and structures, not food quality.

But if you ask me, there are already several restaurants in Peru that absolutely deserve Michelin stars. Tons of them. The fact that the guide isn’t here doesn’t mean the quality isn’t. In my eyes, many of these places have earned their stars already.

And now that street food is also being recognized with Michelin stars, the playing field has expanded even more. You look at what some people are doing in these tiny, tucked-away spots—huequitos—and it’s incredible. They totally deserve stars too.

Any favorite street food spots?

Anticuchos. I’ve tried making them myself, but I just can’t replicate what you get on the street. People don’t realize how much love and hard work goes into that.

And that’s the heart of a Michelin star—it’s about the food, what’s on the plate, and everything that went into getting it there. There’s so much craft in the humble spots around Lima.

Right here in Barranco, there are menu joints where you can eat for 15 soles—like three dollars—and get something absolutely delicious, made with care, and served in generous portions.  It’s impressive. Peruvians eat well—and not just in terms of flavor. There’s a real connection to food here, to its essence.

So what’s the story behind Mérito? How did the project begin?

Mérito was born in 2018, after about a year of preparation. I spent a long time searching for the right name—it mattered a lot to me.

The name actually came to me after a trip to Cusco, part of a personal, introspective journey. I went on a spiritual retreat focused on Andean cosmo-vision. There, I met Anton Ponce de León—a wise man deeply rooted in Andean philosophy. I think he’s still alive; he’s written books and everything.

He spoke about the meaning of life—why we’re here. That kind of thing has always fascinated me. I’m always searching for meaning, and I think a lot of us are. Something he said really stayed with me: we come into this life to collect méritos—merits. But not in the form of medals or recognition. These are internal merits—personal achievements that matter to you.

What seems simple to one person might be a massive challenge to someone else. And I think merits come from facing fears, overcoming personal mountains. That really resonated with me. For me, opening a restaurant was one of those mountains—something I needed to do to grow as a human being.

From there, Mérito took shape. At first, I actually wanted to open an arepa bar. Just arepas. My reference point was La Lucha, the sandwich shop. I loved it. The first time I tried a sandwich there, I thought the concept was brilliant.

I wanted to move away from the fine dining world—away from the Central level of intensity. I knew what that world demanded, and I was ready for something different. I wanted to create a hipster-style arepera, drawing on all the knowledge I had.

I even hired financial consultants and after a few conversations, they said: “Your idea is great, and you’ll probably make it happen someday. But right now, we think you should go the restaurant route.”  Deep down, I already knew that’s what they were going to say. So I trusted them and followed their advice.

Then came the next step: giving the restaurant shape. I knew my Venezuelan roots had to be part of it. But I also knew I had to make something that Peruvians would love. That was key. If the local public liked what we were doing, I knew others would too—because Peruvians know good food. They’ve always been my most important critics.

What do you enjoy most about running a restaurant?

Interacting with passionate people. That used to happen only in the kitchen—sharing with other cooks, that was my whole world. But now, leading a restaurant—and multiple teams—it’s different. When people admire what we’re doing and want to contribute, grow, and learn from what we’re building, that’s incredibly rewarding. That’s what I enjoy the most.

Of course, it’s amazing when guests say the food is incredible—but all of that stems from the connections behind the scenes. Without a strong bond with your team, with everyone involved, none of it would be possible.

What are your favorite restaurants in Peru? Could be in Cusco, or anywhere.

That’s tough—it really depends. I don’t love comparing restaurants, and I don’t like when people compare us either.

Let’s say on your day off.

I love going to Canta Rana, Isolina, Siete—probably the same ones you like too. I enjoy Awicha, Bigote—simple, soulful places. In Barranco, of course, there’s Central and Kjolle—they’re on another level. But I also like spots that feel closer to everyday life, more spontaneous.

La Picantería in Surquillo and the anticuchos stand from the señora on Ave La Mar at night—she’s been there for years, and her food is amazing. I used to go to El Pan de la Chola all the time. It actually inspired me to create Demo—they were a big reference, and I really admire them. I also love Maido, Shizen, Troppo for Italian, and Osaka—especially on Sundays. They treat you so well, the ingredients are excellent—everything just clicks.

Do you have a favorite “huarique”?

Definitely anticuchos and sandwiches. One place that blew me away recently was Los Cuchitos in Chorrillos. I tried their ceviche and was seriously impressed. Their pescado a la chorrillana is incredible—that kind of food inspires me.

I still remember the first time I had grilled ceviche at Fiesta — it knocked me off my feet. That dish really stayed with me. I love all kinds of ceviche — Al Toke Pez is another go-to. And as I mentioned, La Lucha — a sandwich from there always hits the spot. Rotisserie chicken too… I love it all. There are so many great places.

What places do you like to visit within Peru?

I love Cusco.

Do you have a “happy place,” somewhere you always go?

In Cusco?

Anywhere in Peru.

We recently visited Madre de Dios and I really liked it, but I’m still adjusting to the jungle—the mosquitos and the heat are tough for me.

That’s actually one of the goals Michelle and I have—to travel more within the country with our family. There’s so much to explore. But yes, Cusco is my special place. There’s a unique energy there—you feel good just being there.

So what’s a typical day like for you?

Wow… I usually start the day at Demo. I take my daughter there, have a coffee, and spend some time with her. I drop her off at nursery school, then I head back to Demo. There’s always something happening there, so I like to stay close.

After that, I check in at Mérito or Clon, depending on what needs attention. There’s always something to create—especially at Mérito. Clon is a bit more relaxed, but there’s still work to be done.

In the afternoon, I take my daughter to the park, rest a bit, and then head back in the evening for dinner service. I’m usually back by 6 p.m. to start prep, briefings, and everything else. That’s my rhythm—Monday through Saturday.

Yes, I’ve noticed is that you’re really present at all your restaurants.

I try to be.

And I think that makes a big difference.

Yeah, I think it’s really important. Of course, it depends on the kind of business. But Clon, Mérito, and Demo are so personal—so tied to a specific vision—that I feel like they need me, at least for now.

What are you optimistic about for the future?

Honestly, nothing that’s happened so far was ever part of a grand plan. So I’m just optimistic that things will continue to unfold in the right way—that we’re on the right path.

As long as we keep doing things the way we are, life and the universe will keep giving us what we need—and more. That’s how it’s been so far. We just need to stay present and make sure the drive—the passion—never fades. I’m hopeful that we’ll keep discovering new things and continue being amazed by what we’re building.

This was wonderful. I really enjoyed getting to know you through this interview.

Thank you—it was a pleasure.

www.merito.com.pe