11 January 15 - 21, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents M att McCallister’s story, for the pur- poses of this article, begins long be- fore he started cooking professionally. It starts many years prior to his multiple James Beard Award nominations, before his critically ac- claimed Dallas restaurants FT33 and Home- wood opened and closed, and before he stepped into his current role as food and beverage director of Local Favorite Restau- rant Group. We’re going back to the days before he came to Dallas, before a 20-something Mc- Callister applied for a pantry gig at Stephan Pyles’ acclaimed Arts District restaurant (fudging just a little on the question about prior felonies). We’re not starting the story, as many have done in the past, when he was tapped by Pyles as executive chef in 2009 and, thus, shoved into our city’s glaring, food-obsessed spotlight. Today, with no new restaurant opening, special event, or culi- nary accolade, this celebrated chef’s story will be laser-focused on addiction. Followers of his career may note that Mc- Callister has spoken selectively on the topics of drugs and alcohol in the past, but when you’re sitting across from him on a warm, patio-perfect day, it’s hard to believe any- thing could go wrong for the guy. He’s tall and fit and leading-man handsome, and he’s also been through hell. “My addiction story is very long,” McCal- lister says. He opens with the fact that he “started smoking weed when I was 9 years old” in his home state of Arizona. He then quickly heads off any assumptions about early trauma or family dysfunction. “My parents were super normal. … I wasn’t, like, abused as a child, but I had a really hard time in school and really bad emotional regula- tion issues. Back then, they thought I was just, like, a fucking bad kid.” April Murray-Bravo is a licensed mar- riage and family therapist based in Dallas. She routinely works with individuals in all stages of substance use disorder and alcohol use disorder (the clinical terms), including those within high-risk environments such as the food and beverage industry. “The word ‘normal’ is subjective,” says Murray-Bravo in regard to common mis- conceptions about those who develop ad- dictions. “In theory, if someone had a normal family life, they would not develop a substance or alcohol use disorder. By that same logic, everyone who came from a dys- functional family or experienced a trau- matic event would develop a use disorder, and we know that is not true. I say, no, use disorder does not discriminate. It can hap- pen to anyone.” As the preteen puffing continued, Mc- Callister leaned into his “problem child” rep. “If you were to talk to me when I was a sophomore in high school about what I wanted to do with my life, I would’ve shown you the cover of High Times,” he says. “I’d have said, ‘I want to be the next best canna- bis breeder.’” In short order, McCallister blew through the marijuana and into the main event. “It started when I was like 17, using heroin,” he says. “In Arizona, back then, it was black tar, and it was pretty prevalent. We smoked it.” Soon enough, his folks were checking him into a treatment program for teens and young adults in Minnesota. It didn’t work. In fact, shortly after his re- lease from rehab, McCallister met his per- fect “partner in crime.” “We did a lot of cool stuff together. He was a super cool dude,” McCallister says of the new best friend he met in Minneapolis. It turns out that they shared a career goal and spent the next couple of years pursuing it. “We were kind of crazy hippie kids. We would essentially grow [cannabis] all year, and then we would take the summer off and go follow Phish. We’d start in Oregon, and we would just travel around and follow the band. We would take three or four months and just kind of party, and then reset and start over.” Again, the party grew to include more than marijuana. “We were doing lots of oxys. Oxy was big back in the early 2000s.” Mc- Callister realized he was losing control. Again. “I was getting fucked up again. I needed to get clean, so, after we harvested and finished the next time, I decided to go check myself into a rehab.” Two weeks later, his partner was dead. “I’ll probably always blame myself,” he says, referring to the overdose that occurred when he wasn’t around to keep watch over his less-experienced running buddy. “I mean, I’ve forgiven myself. I’ve written him a note, and I’ve even read it at the house that he died in, but I’ll never fully get over that.” At this point in the story, McCallister’s eyes and demeanor shift. His muscles tense. He clearly takes on a lot of blame for this sit- uation that isn’t his to bear. One has to won- der, even as the pop-psych adage about how “hurt people hurt people” has become a common refrain, why do we find it so much harder to muster compassion for those who mostly just keep hurting themselves? Murray-Bravo gives a perspective on how death affects those with substance use dis- order. “It is difficult to function under nor- mal circumstances when trying to manage a use disorder, so the loss of a loved one can be more intense and increases the risk of re- lapse,” she says. “Emotions get flooded and dysregulate the rest of the system, such as routine and sleep. During this time, impulse control may be limited.” After the loss of his Minneapolis friend, McCallister returned home to Arizona and was “kind of trying to be sober.” There, he connected with another old pal in a similar situation. “My old best friend and I meet up. We’re going to some AA meetings, but we’re fucking idiots, and we wind up getting back into doing some stupid shit again.” The problem child and carefree hippie days behind him, McCallister describes young adulthood at this time like riding a roller coaster. One week, he’s clicking up the slow, steady incline of getting sober, only to plunge down fast into the hard stuff again. Up and down he went, collecting ar- rests and experiencing periods of home- lessness in the process. It was then, however, that he also re- turned to the kitchen. “I started cooking in restaurant kitchens when I was like 16, in little Italian places or wherever, just because it’s the only thing I really know how to do,” he says. “The kitchen was always a safe place for me.” It was gigs like this in neighborhood res- taurants that planted the seeds for what would become the chef’s signature style, hitting somewhere between fancy and down-to-earth. Handmade breads and pasta? Yes, as well as pressed lamb with charred eggplant and saffron-tomato jam. As the roller coaster continued, McCal- lister’s closest friendship devolved into scor- ing and shooting up. Recognizing a disaster waiting to happen, he cut ties after an explo- sive falling-out. “The last time we ever had an interaction was me essentially calling him a piece of shit,” McCallister recalls of the fight, which was also the last time he used heroin. But co- caine was still in play. “I continued using cocaine, with a couple failed attempts at abstinence,” he says of the period leading up to the final plunge Nathan Hunsinger | CITY OF ATE | t Dish >> p12 To Hell’s Kitchen and Back Chef Matt McCallister talks about his deadly road through addiction to recovery and becoming “good, better, best.” By Lisa Petty Critically acclaimed chef Matt McCallister overcame addiction to find his calling in the kitchen.
