Betsy Marks an Emotional Homecoming to Altadena

As I arrived at Betsy on that early August evening, the backdrop of the mountains was its familiar pink sunset hue, despite the clearly visible remnants of the fire. I walked by the hardware store, a carcass. I looked at the mini mart, a pile of rubble. But inside, Betsy’s familiar warmth was gloriously rekindled, ready to embrace diners.

From the menu’s generously-dressed little gem Caesar and its charred vegetables to its “cheese we are liking” with grilled focaccia and the grilled strip steak topped with an endearing pad of compound butter, the wood-fired heart and soul of Betsy now stands restored and ready to welcome diners from across L.A. 

We spoke with Wells after Betsy’s first night to talk about his decision to reopen, his vision for the renewed space, and his hopes for diners coming to spend an evening in Altadena. 

Was there a specific moment that made you want to reopen the restaurant, or was it a cumulative momentum?

The principal consideration was our staff. They’re some of the greatest cooks and servers I’ve ever known, and I feel responsible for their livelihood. Eventually it became evident that the team was ready, and waiting for me. I may have never reopened but for their constant cadence. Their wellbeing became my motivation. 

The second part was a day in Altadena. There were cars parked outside of the restaurant where there hadn’t been for a while, and I thought, “what’s going on,” and then I saw people leaving the yoga studio across the street. It dawned on me that Altadena was finally feeling positive for me again, and others were experiencing that feeling of renewal too. I thought, ‘Okay, we’re opening.’

When you think about the reopening, what kind of imagery or thoughts come to mind?

The opening was perfect and exactly what I dreamed of. The restaurant was full of friends and people I didn’t know or who had been to the restaurant once before we closed. This space has become the best food and professional experience of my career. We [the staff] all had to scatter and figure out our lives in order to come back together, and as a result, we’re extremely grateful. There’s a shared feeling that we all left and reflected, and now there’s a new seriousness to what we do. 


This summer, you published a personal message on your Substack announcing Betsy’s opening. You said that you want the restaurant to be a lighthouse for Altadena, which resonated with many people, myself included.  

Back in spring, our friend Randy [Clement, of Good Neighbor Bar] said that the places we lost in the fire only exist in our memories, and the places that survived can be the lighthouses, not only prospectively, but because they are literal touchpoints to the past. If you dig deeper into that idea, what do you hope being a lighthouse means for Betsy?

Restaurants have never been only about food for me. I obviously love food, but the strength and vibrancy of a restaurant is directly correlated to the strength and vibrancy of a neighborhood. In L.A., we have a lot of destination restaurants due to our geography, but I love walking around a city and seeing a restaurant that you can tell acts in service of the immediate locale overflowing with people. For me, being a lighthouse is an aspirational feeling towards that local, neighborhood ideal.  Neighborhood restaurants are such gems, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for us. Altadena always openly welcomed me, and I want to be part of the healing to help shape whatever comes next.

Betsy represents a different kind of dining for Altadena, and your career brings attention from among greater L.A. How do you feel Betsy could bring customers to Altadena who haven’t visited since the fires, and what kind of feedback have you gotten from those diners? 


I approach this work with humility and I take nothing for granted. This year has been full of reckoning and accepting truths, but there is something magical happening now. Overall, I feel a big responsibility. We’re experiencing the contrast between seeing that everything outside is gone, and then coming into this space that is singular, alive, and vibrant. I love the space because when you’re inside, if you didn’t know what had happened, you wouldn’t know where you were or what year it is, and you certainly wouldn’t know what it looks like outside. 

For people who are coming up for the first time since the fire, I’m experiencing gratitude, kindness, and shock. People arrive and say, “Wow, I had no idea that everything was gone.” It’s a similar refrain that then moves into, “but it feels so good in here.” That’s affirming and lifegiving. It’s a beautiful thing to see the restaurant doing what I dreamt it could do. I was ready to walk away from it all, but the upside of Betsy succeeding is infinitely greater than the risk of it not. When the books are full and people leave happy, I know we’re on the right track. 

Sourcing is important to you. How did your residency at The Ecology Center impact the menu at Betsy? 

It added emphasis. Working that closely with farmers renewed my appreciation for their expertise, especially when I go to the farmers’ market. I want to talk to farmers, see what they have too much of or what’s working for them, and plan the menu from there. I’m kind of a scavenger; I’m not looking to only handpick the best.  I want to be their helper, which feels like a meaningful place for our menu to exist, and offers forced creativity.

I’m curious if there are stories about your staff that you can share, given their importance in the decision to reopen. 

Two stories come to mind. We had a dishwasher, Ignacio, who I adored. He’s a hard worker, lovable and funny, and he lived nearby. It’s rare to find staff who live in Altadena, and going back to the neighborhood restaurant of it all, it’s somewhat of a personal mission for me to offer well paying jobs to locals at every role. 

When I woke up on January 8th, among my hundreds of texts there was one from Ignacio that said, “Our house burned down. We have nothing.” I thought about him and his wife standing in the street with nowhere to go.  I sent him something to help and told him to call me when he could, but I never heard from him again. Cut to a few weeks ago during an all-staff meeting and who should show up but Ignacio.  It was so powerful — he had found his way back. 

Another person is Courtney, who will ultimately lead our wine program. She was born and raised two blocks from the restaurant, and she lost her home in the fire. For her, this whole project has a deeper personal layer.  She conducts herself with such pride, and it’s inspiring.

Over the next few months, what do you hope diners walk away with after a night at Betsy?

I hope for the same takeaway as anywhere else, but it’s heavier now. I hope they walk away with meaningful memories, feeling better than when they came in, and not just for the evening. I see us as being in the nurturing business. I want people to feel like they were in a beautiful, safe, happy, and caring space for a couple of hours, and that they want to come back. The greatest praise we can get is stopping at the host stand on the way out and saying, “I want to make six more reservations. I want to bring everybody I know here.”

Sharon Brenner is an L.A.-based food writer, home cook, and immigration lawyer. Follow her @recordsintheden, and follow @Resy, too.