In Conversation: Isaiah Seay
Isaiah and his contagious smile proudly stand at the front of his eatery.
Isaiah Seay needs no introduction. His infectious personality bursts through the door of Ma Dukes, greeting his cooks as they file out for lunch. I first met Isaiah in summer of 2020 when the world seemingly fell apart. My family and I got takeout here nearly every week when the pandemic sent all of us into athleisure wear and hand-stitched masks. Two years later, he still remembers the first time my mom and I came in to pick up dinner. The restaurant was the perfect pitstop on our daily walkabout through the neighborhood, when it felt like walks were the only thing holding families together during that long spring and then summer.
Opening up the long curtains that separate the vestibule from the kitchen in the back, my eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree. We took a tour of the little pizza joint, nestled between other small businesses on the corner of South Lake Lindero Drive and Thousand Oaks Boulevard. I make my way through the space, marveling at the convection ovens, drying racks, and walk-in fridge... As a small food business owner myself, Isaiah quite literally possesses the kitchen of my dreams. I marvel at the large spice containers and plastic bags filled to the brim with takeout boxes. Isaiah introduces me to the cooks including Moises, his right-hand man. By the looks of it, the man had it all from the thriving businesses to trusted team. Despite the visible success with Ma Dukes, Isaiah should have left the restaurant industry for good.
Before finding freedom in his own kitchen, Isaiah spent much of his years making other kitchens and menus successful.
“Years and years and years of abuse,” he acknowledges.
Anyone who has spent time in a kitchen or recently watched The Bear on HBOMax knows the ‘yes, chef’ culture in the culinary world. Rarely do people talk about the lasting implications. Years of cooking, consulting, and managing, Isaiah was ready to walk away. With a growing family to support and bills to pay, Isaiah’s wife could have easily given him an ultimatum. Rather, she pushed him to pursue his long-time dream in the catering world. A dream with one of the highest industry fail rates.
Moises and Isaiah lovingly look at one another like I asked them to. I said, “you’re friends! Look like you guys are friends!”
Moises and the line cooks arrive back at the shop with Peruvian takeout. Black beans, traditional tamales, and the most exciting... Plantain empanadas filled with a gelatinous creamy milk. I’m offered to help myself to a Coke in the fridge, and we stand around the prep table to dig into lunch. Like many industries, the restaurant industry is about the people. Not just the people you serve, but the people you can count on through lunch rushes, dinner services, and the ever-dreaded brunch crowd. Red flags in the corporate world simply don’t apply in culinary professions. Every season is a fight for survival and food quickly becomes your family. The abuse that Isaiah suffered is not uncommon, but rarely can food businesses survive any other way. Not only did he beat the odds in the business once, but twice.
If you’ve gone out to eat in the Conejo Valley, chances are high that Isaiah had a hand in the place’s success whether it be the overall vision for the restaurant to the creation of each item menu. He’s worn every hat from restaurant consultant to general manager to line cook. However, the dream he imagined in these roles never realized and the promises never materialized. Everywhere Isaiah turned came up empty until he hit rock bottom managing a local quick-service chain. Although Isaiah had nowhere left to turn, it was here that he met Moises.
It would be Moises and his crew of cooks who stood by Isaiah’s side to help him build a business, L.A. Roots Catering Co. They have no shortage of success serving events for the Grammys and more. However, it was not until he opened Ma Dukes that Isaiah had to face real rock bottom in the most unimaginable way.
Grief is just one of the many ways that Isaiah and I connected, not only in terms of death and dying itself, but the way people around you handle your grief. With the passing of his father and mother within weeks of each other, he was uncertain he could move forward without the two people who had lifted him up most of his life. Similarly, Isaiah and I also have experience trying to make a food business work out of a home kitchen. Isaiah’s mother, who coined the name ‘Ma Duke’, was the reason L.A. Roots lasted so long in the family’s humble home... kids and all. She took care of so much in the early years of the business.
The Chipo-Ly Smokes Pasta is one of the better things I’ve ever eaten in my life thus far.
Jokingly, but fully serious, Isaiah suggested that the restaurant be named GTFO. That idea went over poorly with mom, bringing Isaiah back to the drawing board. As months drew on, Ma Duke and her worsening cancer continued to rob what little time the family had left with her. One day it struck Isaiah that Ma Duke was the very inspiration for the restaurant itself, and feverishly began focusing all his time into getting the logo ready to present to her. Calling on his friend to get it done in time, he planned to drive over to her place to show her what he had been working on only for him to get the phone call as he turned the corner onto her street.
For nearly half a year, Isaiah and his siblings literally and figuratively drowned their sorrows. He essentially handed the keys for the catering business and restaurant over to his trusted team, wallowing in texts reading “thoughts and prayers” or “thinking of you today”. They tallied away at the messages of sympathy that seemed so surface level, so minute in comparison to the grandness of their parents. They kept score amongst themselves, drink in hand, while their personal world fell apart around them.
“That was my buddy,” Isaiah remarked in remembering his father.
Isaiah merely made it through his father’s funeral before being blindsided by news that his mother had very little life left in our world.
Grief uniquely affects people. It is rarely the loss that grates on a person over time, but rather the change in the people around them. Their friends and family try to come up with the right things to send to the house, the perfect words to say, or withdraw altogether for lack of a better alternative. It feels only comparable to being surrounded by eggshells. Nobody is sure where to step, but suddenly everyone around you is tiptoeing.
My pizza being made with utmost care.
The people of L.A. Roots and Ma Dukes were there for Isaiah as long as he was gone and returned. A few people left to pursue other ambitions in the culinary world, but he had his A-team in the end. During our conversation, it is apparent how much Isaiah values the people around him. Isaiah and his cooks are giving one another a hard time over our Peruvian lunch. Restaurants are tight-ropes suspended in the thinnest of air, but Isaiah and his team dance on it. So well, in fact, that the rope rarely sways.
Isaiah took so much time with me in particular to talk about food.. He wanted to hear about the ambitions I had for my own business. Giving me more to walk away with than I could ever repay him for. My time in the kitchen was special because I felt like I met people who spoke the same language as me, if pouring your heart out over dressed and seasoned arugula counts. This restaurant is a place about people who continue to find joy in great loss. Isaiah is not concerned with those who wronged him throughout his career, or those who have not been there for him as much as they should have. Rather, Isaiah is a man who is all about making music with his best friends, bringing killer pizzas to the Conejo Valley, and being present for his family. The rest is just noise.
