into the kitchen to help. His efforts that night showed Celaya a different side of his friend. He’d considered Petry a loveable but unserious cook who was often late and goofed off on the pizzeria line. That night, he saw someone locking into their craft. “He really held down that service,” Celaya says. “If he wasn’t there, it would have been a complete disaster.” The trio didn’t host another Más Amble dinner for six months. When they did, they saw 200 to 300 diners, Dean estimates. It was a trying service with hours-long waits for food. “We were in way over our heads,” Dean says. “Tickets just didn’t stop printing. There were tickets that were a mile long. It was a miracle that we made it through that night.” Amid the sweat-inducing pressure, the men fell into a dance they’d developed during eight years dodging one another in Fire & Brimstone’s small kitchen when they had to get plates out. The diners were still largely friends and family. That offered a shade of grace — people chatted over wine while they waited — but it wasn’t how the men wanted the night to go. Once dinner ended, they caught their breath. They resolved to change. Going forward, they’d sell a limited number of tickets for dinner-party-style events. That proved another lesson. The $50 dinner featured “excessive” amounts of chicken, lamb and pork belly, Celaya says, and they didn’t charge enough to cover those food costs. “We would spend everything we had,” Petry says. “We never saved for those.” Ambitions for a restaurant faded into the background as they scraped to finish one pop-up with enough money to put into the next one. They also wondered whether their vision was too weird for the East Valley. In those first few dinners, the chefs saw an appetite. But to grow, they’d have to act more like a restaurant. “Those early private dinners all felt like the last one,” Celaya says. “You just don’t know if it’s gonna matter or build traction or be financially a possibility.” Gradually, across years of schlepping equipment and feeding hundreds of people, they learned what dishes worked and devel- oped more discipline. Though their menus and the format have evolved over time, the group has consistently served rustic plates of market-fresh seasonal veg, pastas, flame- kissed bistro chickens, porchetta and ribs. They also held down day jobs and family responsibilities. Celaya and Petry work full- time jobs in hospitality, and Dean’s days focus on finance. As the pop-up grew, Celaya’s family also expanded, with the arrival of his third child. Petry likens the balancing act of Más Amable to playing in a band. Stay with him, here. Dean is the drummer, the “rock” who keeps time. Mills, who gets food out to guests, is the bassist — an overlooked but vital role, Petry says. Celaya is the frontman. Petry says he’s lead guitarist, ever ready to work in some “flair.” Together, they tran- scend their individual talents. “We wouldn’t be Más,” Petry says, “without one another.” Many cooks in the kitchen The men know they tend to over-roman- ticize what a meal can be. They see every event as an opportunity to create a core memory for someone. That holds true whether they’re serving $28 platters of grilled lamb or $16 pizzas. “Hopefully, you think about that for the rest of your life, and you can forget about how hot it was that day,” Petry says. Celaya first felt the dreamy pull to restaurants well before he worked in them. While visiting San Francisco as a teen, he was intrigued by relaxed people dining al fresco at bistro tables. “That interested me, the place that a restaurant has in your life and why you go to them,” Celaya says. “It’s exciting. I didn’t eat out that much growing up, but when we did, it was like heck yeah, Chili’s or Applebee’s.” His charmed philosophy shows up in the pop-up’s name. Más Amable means “more friendly, more lovely, kinder,” per the group’s website. It’s also the mantra for every dinner the group hosts. The trio of cooks unabashedly agrees the pop-up is a celebration of their friendship. While Más Amable continued cooking around the East Valley, the pop-up found its footing in downtown Phoenix, including a residency at Sauvage Wine Bar and Shop. There were still things they had to figure out — and that they inevitably forgot to pack into the car. (For a group that cooks outdoors at night, they still never manage to remember to bring a light.) Once service gets underway, the chefs are all business. Chalk it up to the stress of orders coming in or simply locking in. The food becomes the focus, and the chitchat melts away. “You just know how to read each other and what’s needed without needing to say it,” Celaya says. The group used the weekly dinner as an opportunity to flex their creativity and tap their industry friend group. Chefs, including the Global Ambassador’s Reece Stokes, Valentine’s Nico Zades and Devan Cunningham, a private chef and co-founder of CC’s on Central, have all collaborated with them on one-night-only dinners. Más Amable debuted Irma in 2025 as a callback to their personal history and an excuse to host family-friendly events for their original supporters in the East Valley. >> p 10 Matt Celaya, right, founded the pop-up in 2022. (Dale Steffen) Más Amable’s menus are often served for one night only. (Dale Steffen) As a pop-up, the Más Amable team cooks outdoors often in small or improvised spaces. (Dale Steffen)
