Luz recounts that her father was walking one day when he saw a young güerita — a fair-haired woman. She caught his attention, and he thought, “I have to meet her.” That woman was Petra — Luz’s mother.
Luz González is the storyteller of a chapter in her parents’ lives — Bonifacio and Petra — founders of Birriería Jalisco and an inspiring example of perseverance and dedication for immigrants.
“My dad was born in Guadalajara in 1911 — imagine that year! Right in the middle of the Mexican Revolution. The only image my dad had of his father was when he was about three or four years old. He remembered hearing his father arrive home, and he hid under the bed. He recalled his father calling, ‘Ramón, Ramón,’ but since he didn’t come out, his father left. The only thing my dad remembered were the typical boots men wore back then, nothing more,” says Luz González, daughter of the restaurant’s founder and now co-owner, along with her brother Ricardo, of two locations — one in Plaza México and another in Pico Rivera.
Luz becomes emotional when she speaks about her father, who lived almost a full century.
“He always had to work. The family was poor; my father could only attend elementary school for two years. After that, he worked at the bus terminal, carrying luggage, and with what he earned, he helped support the family,” says Luz.
Luz and some of her workers. A business built on the work and love of a family.
Bonifacio passed down to his children the values of hard work, perseverance, and the drive to achieve their dreams.
Perhaps he knew that Guadalajara would not fulfill his ambitions. He dreamed of migrating — and among those dreams, one day opening a restaurant that would sell only birria, the traditional dish of his hometown.
“Before migrating, my father worked with one of his uncles, selling birria from a street cart in Guadalajara. His uncle had one flaw — he liked to drink. He trusted my dad to run the business and, most importantly, passed down the recipe for his birria. ‘Take care of it,’ he told him. ‘It’s a family recipe that’s been passed down for generations. Don’t lose it.’ And my father preserved it for the rest of his life,” Luz adds.
Bonifacio first migrated to Tijuana, then crossed into California to work in the fields as a bracero. He spent many years doing that, later leaving agricultural work for construction — always focused, never losing sight of the dream that would change his life and his family’s future.
During one of his trips back to Guadalajara to take care of some personal matters, Luz recounts, he was walking one day when he saw a fair-haired young woman. She caught his attention, and he thought, “I have to meet her.” That woman was Petra — Luz’s mother and the mother of five more children.
“My dad had so much energy. He was 51 when he married my mom, and she was in her twenties. My dad always loved to cook — my mom says he was the one who taught her. He was very loving but had a strong character. When they moved to California, they settled in Santa Ana, in a modest home. Everything he earned, he gave to my mom. He’d say, ‘Here’s a bit for my expenses, and here’s the rest. Take good care of it — we need to save,’” Luz recalls.
Eventually, they managed to save $2,000. With that, Bonifacio was finally able to pursue his dream, which became a reality in 1972, when he was 61 years old.
“While most people think about retiring, my dad was just getting started. He found a small spot in East L.A. and opened his first birriería. He was very smart — he had studied the area where he would set up shop. That was where the people he wanted to reach lived — his customers. Plus, the area was surrounded by bars and dance halls. He’d wait for people as they left, and the place would fill up. They came for tacos and birria soup to cure their hangovers, as they say,” Luz adds with a smile.
Luz and Ricardo are in the center, with Luz’s children on either side. Above them, the caption “El Sabroso” (“The Tasty One”) is written. Their father said the goat would “say” that when they were preparing it: “They’re going to taste the tasty one.”
The restaurant was such a success that he soon had to move to a larger location nearby. People loved the birria made from his secret recipe.
“My dad used to joke that when they were preparing the goat, the animal would think, ‘They’re about to taste El Sabroso,’” Luz says, laughing. “He was a visionary. He never spoke English, but he’d go to City Hall to get permits and made himself understood. The inspectors were surprised when they learned he would only sell one dish on the menu. When they inspected the place, they were even more astonished.”
Many people remember Bonifacio with great affection. Customers often stop Luz or her brother to tell them stories about him. He was very hospitable — he would invite people to sit, chat with them, and loved seeing them enjoy his food.
“He passed away in 2000. I decided to open an extension of the restaurant in Plaza México, and later, together with my brother Rafael, we opened another in Pico Rivera. My father’s story moves me — it’s a love story. A man who had nothing came to California and built a future for himself and his family. He always wanted us to be together on his days off — to cook for us, to listen to us. I’m proud to be his daughter. It’s a story of success from our immigrant community. Anyone who sets their mind to it can achieve it — you just have to work hard,” she concludes.
