My family did not plan to come to Fresno. But here we are.
We were born in Lebanon. The civil war came and we left. Syria first. Then Greece. Then Canada. My family was looking for somewhere to settle. They visited Chicago. Too cold. So we came to Fresno. That is how I ended up here. By accident. By weather.
But it was not an accident that we came to America. My mom and my dad made that choice. They fought a harder battle than I will ever fight — war, four countries, starting over and over, language after language, building a life from nothing more than once. They brought us here. I became an American citizen, and I am proud of it. I love this country. Everything I have built, I built because they kept going. I do not forget that. This page exists because of them.
I am Armenian. I will always be Armenian. In our culture, food is how we love people.
I grew up with that. Every event, every moment — there is food. The smell of coffee in the morning in Lebanon. My grandmother cooking. Markets. Spices. That stays with you.
I caught the cooking bug when I was twelve. But I was not a good student. In high school I was a D and C student — school and I did not understand each other.
Then I found the kitchen. Culinary school was different. I graduated on the Dean's List. Same kid. Different world. When you find your passion, your life changes fast. I tell that to anyone who thinks they are not smart enough, not good enough. You have not found your thing yet. Keep looking.
I worked the line. I worked the steakhouse. I worked Yosemite. Classical training. The long way. No shortcuts.
Armenian coffee is not fast. It is brewed slow in a pot called a jazve. It is passed between people. It is conversation, not fuel. This is what Sanctuary is built on.
In 2006, I came home and opened Cracked Pepper Bistro.
Nineteen years later, we are still here. Local farmers. California wines. Everything from scratch. People come for the eggplant Napoleon. The short ribs we slow-roast overnight. The bread pudding — that one has a cult following.
In 2019, I drove up to Napa and won Guy's Grocery Games on Food Network.
One hour. Three rounds. Guy Fieri throwing curveballs — bananas, frozen pizza, huitlacoche, canned tuna. I won. The prize money went to my team. I wanted them to experience a culinary trip they would never otherwise have.
Then coffee found me.
My church wanted to open a small coffee shop. They needed someone to guide it. At first I said no. Coffee was something I enjoyed, not something I thought I would do professionally. My wife and I talked. We felt God was calling us to it. So I said yes.
I did what I always do. I went to learn. Traveled to Carson City to study at a roasting facility. Took classes. Found mentors. Met cuppers and graders who taste coffee for a living. And I realized something — coffee is like wine. It has terroir. It has nuance. Every bean tells a story.
The transition was natural. Cooking and roasting are the same craft. Maillard reaction. Caramelization. Precision. Sourcing. Just a different ingredient.
That is how Sanctuary Roasting started. And that is how I got here.
None of this happens alone.
My wife, my son, my daughter — they have carried more of this than anyone can see. The late nights. The missed dinners. The restaurant, the roaster, always pulling me somewhere. They gave me the room to build. I know what that costs them. My parents sacrificed to bring me to America. My family sacrifices every day so I can build what I am building here. I am grateful for both. I do not take any of it for granted.
