Over 40,000 pizzas later, we are grateful to be able to do this every day.
Four years in, and I keep coming back to the same realization: what we’ve built together has never really been fixed. It has always been something in motion, something that listens and responds, something shaped by the people who choose to spend their time with us.
Whenwe first opened, I thought I had a clear vision of what allmine would become. And in many ways, I did. But the truth is, the most important parts revealed themselves slowly, through repetition, through observation, through the quiet discipline of paying attention.
To you.
What you order without hesitation. What you ask about. What you bring your friends back for. What makes you stay a little longer, or come back the following week. Those moments became our compass.
We learned to adjust our sails with intention, not by reacting to trends, but by responding to what felt real. Over time, the room itself began to reflect that. It became more comfortable, more considered, more attuned to the experience we wanted to create. We added air conditioning because the seasons demanded it. We softened the room with sound panels because full nights deserve to feel energetic without becoming overwhelming. Every adjustment was small on its own, but together they changed the way the space holds people.
The menu followed the same path. It grew where it needed to grow. It refined where it needed restraint. We introduced vegan offerings that feels complete and aligned. We built a vegetarian lasagna that carries the same structure and depth as the original. Our non-alcoholic program expanded into something I’m deeply proud of, thoughtful and intentional in the same way as the wine list.
And through it all, we stayed anchored in what matters most to me: our relationships with local farmers, ranchers, and purveyors. Their work is present in everything we serve. You taste it in the bread that people come back for. In the beets that seem to change even the most hesitant minds. In a wine program that continues to evolve, always searching for something expressive, something alive.
What I didn’t anticipate, at least not fully, was what would grow around the table.
The book club became something deeper than a dinner. And the relationships we're forming are meant to last a lifetime. The wine classes turned into evenings where people arrive curious and leave more confident, more connected to what they’re drinking. Conversations stretch while friendships form. There’s a kind of ease in the room that I recognize now as the truest measure of hospitality.
And then there is the team. The energy you feel when you walk in is not accidental. It comes from people who care, who show up with intention, who take pride in what they do. That part cannot be manufactured. It can only be built slowly, together by Sid, Lila, Carlos, Eva, Elizabeth, German, Roberto, Pedro, Evan, Isaac, Geidy, Manny, Luis, Brooks, Emilie, Ellie, Dani, Nik, Brooks, Savanah and our very first hire, Carson.
We’re still open every day, and now, Wednesday through Sunday, we open earlier, at noon. Lunch is finding its place, still unfolding, still waiting to be discovered in its own rhythm. There’s something different about the room in the middle of the day. The light moves differently. The pace softens. It feels like a version of allmine that invites you to settle in without looking at the clock. Get some work done, catch up with a friend or grab a quick bite on your to the beach.
And as Mother’s Day approaches, I’ve found myself thinking about those daytime tables in a more personal way. About the people who taught us how to gather, like my mother Dina who, although has never seen this place, is the heart and soul of it. She taught me how to cook, how to take care of others, often without ever calling it hospitality.
If you’ve been wondering where to take your mom, or how to spend that time together in a way that feels thoughtful without being overproduced, this might be a place to do it. Not because it’s an occasion, but because it’s a table, and sometimes that’s enough. But mostly because we will make her feel special, like she deserves.
We’ve never had the kind of marketing budget that larger, corporate restaurants rely on with TV campaigns, giveaways and fancy merch drops. What we have instead is something far more meaningful: you. Every recommendation. Every shared meal. Every review. Every private party. Every time you bring someone new through the door. This place has grown because you chose to carry it forward.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like ours alone. It became something shared, held up by a community that believes in it, and by a team that brings it to life every single day with care, pride and joy.
Four years in, and we're just getting started.
Still listening. Still refining. Still becoming.
—Roxana
