The Brief

When 44-year-old Montassar Dhaouadi decided to leave his home country of Tunisia to come to Los Angeles with his family three years ago, he started over completely.

“I spent 17 years in the army, then I resigned and came here,” Dhaouadi said. “Now, I drive Uber and I work as a delivery driver with OnTrac.”

But on one bright, scorching hot Tuesday in June, he was working on learning something new: cooking. Dhaouadi spent the day in an East Hollywood kitchen cutting up onions, garlic and shallots with three other people under the guidance of his teacher and chef Jamie Lauren, whom some may know from shows like Top Chef.

“I hope in the future, I will own my own restaurant,” Dhaouadi says.

Chefs in the making

Dhaouadi is one of five aspiring chefs who are a part of a new culinary training program offered by L.A. caterer and restaurant Flavors From Afar.

The eight-week course aims to help refugees and other displaced groups, like asylum seekers, immigrants and even local Indigenous communities develop skills in the kitchen that can help them get work or, one day, own a catering company or restaurant. The program is free with the exception of a food handler certificate, which costs $15.

The aspiring chefs meet twice a week to learn knife skills, pan frying, plating and how to cook cuisines from all over the world. Those dishes are then sold as part of the Flavors From Afar catering menu, with the student chefs making back 5% of what is sold. Every dish they cook is halal because most of the chefs are Muslim.

Montassar Dhaouadi cuts a cucumber while another aspiring chef in class looks at his technique.

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Moving to a new country can be a challenging experience for many refugees, who are often forced to leave their homes due to war, persecution or natural disasters. Some of them have multiple degrees and have left behind successful careers or businesses. Now, in the U.S. they have to start over in entry-level positions because their careers do not transfer.

For example, one of the participants was a bank manager in Ukraine. Now she’s an aspiring chef, says Julie Vautrot, the culinary training program coordinator for the restaurant’s nonprofit funding arm The Tiyya Foundation.

Vautrot serves as a liaison between aspiring chefs and potential employers at times, forging relationships with restaurants looking to hire and handing out her cards at job fairs to let them know about the cooks who have been trained by Flavors From Afar.

The end goal for many of those who go through the program is to eventually run their own businesses. The restaurant industry can seem like an easier segue into a quality life for these newcomers to L.A., Vautrot says, because the skills are universal and many of the participants grew up learning how to cook.

“It’s familiar. It's transferable,” Vautrot says “A knife's a knife. Water boils at the same temperature. It doesn't matter what country you're in.”

Why cooking school?

Flavors From Afar is an example of similar programs across the U.S. — and the world — that help support refugees and other migrants through culinary training. And with L.A. being a top destination for refugee arrivals in recent years, programs like Flavor From Afar’s provide a service.

“Finding employment is definitely a top need, and can sometimes be especially difficult for newcomers to the community — whether they’re facing language barriers or just having difficulty getting back into their careers,” says Carly Boos, the community relations manager for the resettlement agency International Rescue Committee in L.A., adding that programs like this can “remove those barriers to entry that normally face refugees and immigrants.”

From Oct. 1, 2023 through June 30 of this year, California received 4,692 of the 68,291 refugees who came to the U.S. In that same period, L.A.-based resettlement agencies have helped about 1,100 refugees here, according to Martin Zogg, executive director of the IRC in L.A..

Vautrot says when refugees and newly arrived immigrants are first looking for work in L.A. — or, really, in any new city — a kitchen job is usually the first thing that pops into most people’s heads. “It's like, ‘well, what can I do? What kind of job can I have?’ And cooking is something immediate,” adds Vautrot. “They’re sharing their culture, they're doing something that's from home. It's a way to share. It's an opportunity for them to highlight their cuisine.”

The Flavors From Afar program also teaches its students how to get permits and insurance, and find affordable kitchen space. Vautrot says that the last part is often the biggest barrier because you can’t get a permit unless you have a place to cook.

A social enterprise

This story — of the food and the training — begins with Meymuna Hussein-Cattan. She is a former refugee herself from East Africa, and moved to the U.S. in the 1980s with her mother, Owliya Dima. In 2010, she and her mother created the nonprofit organization The Tiyya Foundation (“tiyya” means “my dear” or “my love” in the Oromo language) to help others like her and her mom resettle in L.A. and Orange County. Over the years, she says the group has helped people find entry-level jobs and build up their English-language skills. Tiyaa has also hosted community events like playdates at the park for families that include parenting workshops and donations of diapers, toys and school supplies.

Meymuna Hussein-Cattan founded The Tiyya Foundation with her mother Owliya Dima in 2010. In 2018, she founded the social enterprise Flavors From Afar.

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Meymuna Hussein-Cattan

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Hussein-Cattan started Flavors From Afar as a catering company and social enterprise in 2018. In 2020, it opened as a brick-and-mortar restaurant, receiving a Michelin Bib Gourmand nod two years in a row, until it closed temporarily to move locations. About 40% of the eatery’s profit goes to support The Tiyya Foundation's programs.

The goal for Flavors From Afar’s cooking program was always to help refugees and asylum seekers gain skills, while also sharing global cuisines with L.A. foodies. But only until recently has it been able to bring groups of people through its culinary program (due to the stay-at-home orders early on in the COVID-19 pandemic, she could only work one-on-one with aspiring chefs in the beginning).

“I'm really passionate about the program because growing up in a refugee household, I realized that there are cuisines out there that are at restaurants but don't really represent the food that we eat at home,” Hussein-Cattan says. Through the catering company and opportunities to cook for special dinners hosted by Flavors From Afar, the chefs in training are able to share meals they’ve prepared with the eating public and be compensated for it. “The foodie community out here,” Hussein-Cattan says of L.A. “They love what we're doing, they trust us and they know it's authentic.”

Learning in the kitchen

When class starts, the aspiring chefs stand in their own sections around the kitchen listening to Chef Jamie Lauren explain the plan for the three-hour class.

Today, they are making braised chicken with preserved lemons and olives, Lebanese couscous in the style of tabbouleh, with cucumber, tomato, onion and parsley and braised romano beans.

Before they can get to the cooking part, they have to do “mise en place” which is the chef’s discipline of knowing your recipe, preparing your ingredients, arranging all of your items and preparing your workstation. Lauren first teaches the small group how to hold a chef’s knife and cut ingredients, like onions, that brighten the taste profile. Some of the aspiring chefs need more practice than others.

Then they break down whole halal chickens in 10 pieces — two breasts, two wings, two tenders, two thighs, two drumsticks.

Lauren turns on the large pots to toast spices and sautee the aromatics with the ingredients the group sliced and diced. They start to make the couscous, the beans, the chicken and the stock. The dish is North African inspired, which is where all of the aspiring chefs in this current class are from.

“When I teach you Indian food, it’s going to be similar, but with different spices,” says Lauren.

She has the class try preserved lemons, Moroccan olives and Moomtaz date syrup, before choosing to add them into the pot. Nearly three hours later, the class has prepared a full, savory meal.

Volunteer chef Jamie Lauren and the aspiring chefs made braised chicken with preserved lemons and olives, Lebanese couscous in the style of tabbouleh, with cucumber, tomato, onion and parsley and romano beans.

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In class, Algerian-born immigrant Nawel Hadj-Arab, 36, is scribbling down notes as fast as Lauren is saying them, making sure she gets every single detail.

“While she's talking, she's giving us a waterfall of information,” Hadj-Arab says. “You're learning multiple things about how to cook or even about utensils or anything, so I learned a lot.”

Volunteer professional chef Jamie Lauren teaches Montassar Dhaouadi, Nawel Hadj-Arab and other aspiring chefs how to cook braised chicken, couscous and romano beans.

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Soon after prepping the meal, Hadj-Arab went to the main dining area to take some professional pictures for the chefs’ website.

Hadj-Arab moved to L.A. in 2019 with her now ex-husband and her children. She says she was a victim of domestic violence and is now attempting to start over as a single parent.

“I didn't get a choice to move here in L.A.,” Hadj-Arab says. “I came here with my abuser, my ex-husband. He was working with people here in L.A.”

She thought about returning home to Algeria but after she found herself alone with her two kids, she decided to stay.

“I knew I could succeed,” Hadj-Arab says. “So I'm trying again.”

Her dream is to learn how to cook and become a chef so that she can eventually own a “big restaurant” with various global cuisines — from French to Middle Eastern to American — and that being a part of the Flavors From Afar culinary program has helped her get closer to that.

Aspiring immigrant chef Nawel Hadj-Arab poses for a picture for the Flavors From Afar website.

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“Back in Africa, a woman is very limited in her choices in life, especially if you're divorced or if you're a single mom,” Hadj-Arab says. “There’s no way for you to go as far as you want. That’s why I’m here now because I know I can and I will. It’s helped me to gain confidence.”

Flavors From Afar

Flavors From Afar has now worked with more than 23 chefs from 21 countries, including Afghanistan, Algeria, Venezuela and Zimbabwe. This fall, Hussein-Cattan says she plans to open a full restaurant again, and says her goal is to hire the chefs-in-training to work there. “I’m looking forward to working with more chefs over time,” Hussein-Cattan says. “They need to put food on the table and this is a skill that they have and it's just a beautiful exchange for our chefs and foodies in Los Angeles.”

This summer, Flavors From Afar is hosting a Friday night Global Dinner Series, featuring different cuisines from different chefs each week, many of whom have gone through the training program. On the menu are dishes from Guatemala, Sudan, Congo, Ukraine, Zimbabwe and Lebanon. The dinners will be held through Aug. 30. Tickets for the Global Dinner Series are available on Eventbrite. Prices range from $25 for a tasting menu to $250.

The next culinary workshop starts Aug. 6. Find out more here.

In September, Gov. Gavin Newsom unveiled what is likely one of the last large climate announcements of his tenure: California will move forward with linking its decade-old carbon market with a newly formed market in Washington state, aiming to merge it with the market California already shares with Quebec.

Newsom said California was “choosing certainty, partnership, and clean energy” amid a stream of federal climate policy rollbacks.

But the announcement didn’t distract environmental advocates from the sting of a challenging year back home for the so-called “cap-and-invest” program. As Newsom leaves his post, many policy and climate experts say the adjustments to the program put California’s climate goals further out of reach. The program provides billions of dollars in funding for climate and other programs.

Yet with little talk of climate policy in the governor's race, Californians are largely left guessing about how Steve Hilton or Xavier Becerra would handle the program or California’s broader climate ambitions. The Becerra campaign did not respond to multiple emailed requests for comment. Hilton told CalMatters he would move to suspend the carbon market — which he called “a disaster of a program” — entirely.

Twenty years ago, lawmakers made California the first state to mandate broad cuts in greenhouse gas emissions with AB 32, the landmark carbon emissions reduction law, which authorized the subsequent creation of a market. The law requires the program to be as cost-effective as possible while maximizing benefits to the state’s economy.

Whoever wins in November can appoint a handful of new members to the California Air Resources Board, which has to finish writing the linkage rules and will propose the budget that leans on carbon market revenue. The next governor will also help decide how aggressively California leads on climate, after a year of mixed signals about where the program is headed.

“It's really set up the politics of these issues to get worse and not better over time, and that is the problem that is being tossed like a live grenade into the lap of the next governor,” said Danny Cullenward, an economist who sits on an advisory committee focused on the carbon market.

A question of climate leadership

In May, a process to reauthorize the keystone climate program ended with a controversial agreement that the Legislative Analyst’s Office projects will roughly halve annual auction revenue, offering about $2 billion less in funding for priority environmental programs while opening a separate pool of free permits for polluters that pledge to invest in decarbonization, valued at as much as $4 billion.

Oil companies fought the initial cap-and-invest reauthorization proposal, arguing it would encourage companies to leave the state or further increase fuel prices. The California Air Resources Board, which manages the program, said the increased allowances it eventually approved were meant to balance affordability and economic uncertainty alongside emissions targets. In an email, a board spokesperson said the new incentives would not have any impact on the market’s auction revenue. (The Western States Petroleum Association, which represents refiners in the state, declined an interview for this story.)

The concern comes as California prepares to elect its next governor and nears its own 2030 target to reduce greenhouse gas emissions 40% below 1990 levels, on its way to zeroing out emissions by 2045.

“This is not a question anymore of whether or not we'll reach the target. This is a guarantee that we won't,” said Katie Valenzuela, a consultant for Communities for a Better Environment who previously co-chaired an environmental justice committee that advised regulators on the state’s program.

State officials have long framed cap-and-invest as a backstop, keeping the state on track for its climate targets by ratcheting down the emissions limit even if other programs fall short. Advocates worry the changes will have a chilling effect rather than signal the market’s long-term strength, just as California loses ground to federal rollbacks.

“It is going to become very difficult for us to say we are a climate leader when we are visibly missing our targets,” Cullenward said.

Others remain more optimistic. Cap-and-invest is one tool in California’s toolbox, even if this year dulled it. Meredith Fowlie, an economist at the University of California, Berkeley, said the program is not optimal but has done the basics of its job: sending a price signal to drive down emissions while raising revenues for important programs.

Linking with Washington’s market will strengthen California’s program overall, air board Chair Lauren Sanchez wrote to Newsom in September. In addition to creating a larger market with more credits available to industries in both states, the link is expected to raise carbon credit prices in California, where recent auctions have yielded prices at state minimums. A connected market could also lower prices in Washington, making the state’s more stringent program less lucrative. Low prices reduce the program’s revenues and starve polluting industries’ incentive to invest in lowering emissions.

Regulators have not yet established a rulemaking timeline for the linkage process, a spokesperson for the board told CalMatters, but the board expects the joint market to begin operating next year.

Chloe Ames, policy adviser at NextGen Policy, an organization founded by former gubernatorial candidate Tom Steyer, called linkage a strong step forward. The group is disappointed by the other changes made to cap-and-invest this year, she said, and will keep urging the legislature to adjust the industry incentives and California’s next governor to take climate seriously.

“It's been more challenging for us to say that we're a climate leader, and that's why we need to step up,” Ames said. “In this work, what are you going to do other than to be hopeful?”

Kicking the can

Since the market began, revenue has funded a wide range of priorities, including job training, clean energy and affordable housing. Managing those investments, alongside costs to Californians and emissions cuts, has been a balancing act — one the next governor will inherit, Fowlie said. “Some of those objectives are potentially in tension,” she said. “A sole focus on designing the program to meet our greenhouse gas reductions misses this really important larger picture that this program is about more than that.”

The legislature approved the program’s reauthorization and the state’s air regulators lay out its rules, but a governor has influence over how that process plays out and can exert his own priorities, Cullenward said.

Beyond the carbon market, governors have wider latitude: Newsom has used his executive authority on wildfires, water shortages and clean energy.

In the governor’s race, neither candidate has centered climate in his campaign. In their one debate, both candidates steered a question about climate change’s impacts toward affordability concerns, offering little detail on the actual climate policies they favor.

“I think it's fair to say that climate probably isn't the top priority of either one,” said Barry Vesser, the chief operating officer at the Climate Center, a California environmental group that opposed this year’s changes to the carbon market.

Becerra’s campaign website emphasizes affordability in climate policy. He has faced criticism for defending Chevron and for accepting large oil and gas donations. As attorney general, though, he defended the state’s carbon program in court, arguing that “carbon pollution knows no borders” and promising that California would fight the first Trump administration’s rollbacks.

Hilton has rallied against California’s Democratic establishment, and he told CalMatters he would aim to de-bloat the bureaucracy guiding the state’s climate policies. He likened the market’s recent programmatic changes to “rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.” Hilton, who considers himself an environmentalist, has argued for redirecting resources from current climate programs and wildfire mitigation toward management of the state’s natural lands. He also wants to rework renewable incentives to create “a level playing field” for technologies like rooftop solar, hydropower and geothermal energy. His strategy, he claims, will reduce economic burdens for Californians while exceeding the state’s climate targets.

The relative lack of attention to climate policy is a missed opportunity, according to Valenzuela and Vesser. They see a chance for the next governor to more directly and publicly connect climate programs to affordability, a key concern for likely voters and an issue on which Becerra and Hilton agree.

Ultimately, the race’s rhetoric has advocates like Valenzuela “freaked out.” She points to a “huge chasm” between present reality and the policies that would put California on the right track. The state has little time left for the aggressive action its climate ambitions require, she and other advocates say, and it’s time to start dealing in reality.

“There's not many more governors left we can kick the can to before that bill comes due,” Cullenward said.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.