“I was really lucky to grow up in a family where my mother cooked me a home-cooked meal every night,” says Chef Vanessa Rose of Mother’s at House of Bridges. “She was also adamant that if we wanted something before dinner, we had to make it ourselves. So I started with things like peanut butter and jelly. By the time I was 12, I was making chicken and pasta… then Thanksgiving dinner, Chrstmas and Easter.”

“I always say that my primary schooling in cooking came from watching cooking shows on television, because largely it did," Rose recalls. "My parents saw my interest and I remember they brought me a cajun and creole cookbook from New Orleans. I cooked through the entire book. Learning that New Orleans cuisine was more than just blackened food was huge. All the different influences and cultures that made up the cuisines, the differences between bouillabaisse and gumbo. Those were the things that meant something to me. Even today, the intersections between cultures have always been something I’ve appreciated about cooking.”

Choosing culinary

“I grew up in an upper-middle-class family," Rose notes. "And I grew up with privilege. That’s a good part of the reason why I feel an obligation to create safe places for the queer community.

"My parents love me. They’ve always kept open hearts and open minds regarding their attitude towards me. I came out many times. When I was 12, I rejected Catholicism. When I was 16 or 17 I came out as a socialist. I came out as bi-sexual, polyamorous…So by the time I got to the point where I knew I wanted to make a medical transition, I’d already unpacked myself in so many different ways and they gave me nothing but support.”

Rose says that she likely would have attended culinary school, but her parents and others influenced her to reconsider the decision.

“Instead, I went to school at UW-Milwaukee, where I focused my studies on history, sociology and political science. I intended to become a professor. I’ve always loved teaching and I’ve always felt that I could make a difference for students by really differentiating my teaching for them. But, there came a point where I didn’t see the point of being an academic in a system where funding was being cut.  So, I made the decision to go into culinary because – at the very least – it was something I liked and cared about.”

Rose worked for about two years at County Clare, where she made her way through the ranks – working as dishwasher, line lead and baker –  before moving on to Braise, where she worked until the pandemic shut the restaurant scene down. When the world began to reopen again, she took on roles in the kitchens at Amilinda, Odd Duck, Balzac and eventually Ardent. At each restaurant, she says, she made a particular effort to pay attention to all the operational details, both good and bad.

“I’ve looked at this career as my education,” Rose says. “This is about me learning what I want from a restaurant. So I’ve always analyzed at each place and then detangled the good from the bad. Ultimately, my goal was to move forward with the best ideas from each place and leave the rest behind.”

“For instance, I don’t like fine dining as a term. It’s something in my mind that only exists for people to distinguish themselves or make things that some can’t afford. Colonialism, racism, prejudice and classism all play into it. When I worked at Ardent, even our most 'regular' regulars came in just a few times a year. At the same time, my friends couldn’t afford to eat there.”

The inspiration

Yet, even as she worked her way through a wide swath of restaurants in Milwaukee, Rose struggled with her own connection to food.

“I was always disappointed that I didn’t have a connection with my heritage in a culinary way,” she says. “And I’ve never loved a cuisine enough to decide I needed to delve deeply and learn ‘all’ of it. And so I wondered. How do you open a restaurant without identifying with a cuisine?”

“I've always been more interested in exploring than standing still. As a result, over time, I realized that it only made sense to adopt a cooking style that incorporated techniques from China, Italy, France … The notions of fusion and intersectional cuisine are both a part of the way I approach cooking. In a lot of ways, the decolonization of food is a goal for me. In some ways, it’s antithetical to the American experience."

Rose says the inspiration for creating a queer-centered third space began to develop after Chef Greg Leon encouraged her to watch “Pose”. The dance musical, set in the 80s, places a spotlight on the house mothers of New York’s underground ballroom culture, a phenomenon created by Black and Latino members of the LGBTQ+ community, particularly trans women.

“It was the first show I’d seen in which trans-women played trans-women,” says Rose. “And I was inspired. Each of the mothers had a different priority. Some were obsessed with passing. But those that I related to were the ones who wanted to help others, to provide safe places. And it made me realize that I was most interested in using my privilege to help create a space where people felt safe and where they could afford to go and be nourished.”

Creating a queer-led third space

“What I’m creating now integrates my love for both the social and culinary sciences. My favorite thing about cooking is providing nourishment. These days I’m most interested in bringing food to people who are categorically and historically unwelcome in dining spaces. Prioritizing what it means to be a queer dining establishment is one of the ways we are making waves right now.” 

Rose notes that, in general, the model for restaurants is a flawed system. But it's particularly ineffective when it comes to providing spaces for the queer community.

“The way I look at myself, I'm part of the first generation of chefs to open restaurants following the legacies of Ardent, Odd Duck, DanDan, EsterEv, Amilinda," she says. "They were tastemakers. But my generation… the chefs that are coming up right now, we’re in a different place.

“If you take out a loan right now to start the business you want, you’re – in some ways – setting ourselves up for failure. The stresses of running a business, of paying back loans and caring for employees, leads to stress, depression and addiction… I want a better life for my staff. I don’t want them working 90-hour weeks. I also don’t want a venue that’s a monument to my ego. 

“To be 'only a restaurant' is a hindrance to long-term success," she adds. "It’s about community organizing, mutual aid. It’s about making a home for queer people outside the bar and creating a space where we can all gather. Our strength as a community comes from our diversity and our ability to pivot. Let’s revolutionize how we pay people and let’s balance between creation and curation.

She's also unconcerned with meeting the expectations that others might have for her.

“It would be expected for a chef of my calibre to open a place that allows me to experiment, to refine my craft… but what I want more than that is to create a space that feeds people, that nourishes people and that gives them a sense of peace, happiness.”

Looking forward

Rose introduced Mother’s, the food portion of her House of Bridges concept, to the public in 2024 as a pop-up concept. The response has been so overwhelmingly positive that she’s moved on to the next phase of her plan.

Currently, she is raising funds through a NuMarket campaign with the hope of acquiring the former Company Brewing building at 735 E. Center St. Her goal is to create a “queer focused third space,” which provides a safe, welcoming community environment where guests can gather to socialize, enjoy food and beverages and express themselves.