Brix

You think pastry is sweet? Try surviving it.

The hours are brutal. The precision is unforgiving. And in Carmen Rueda’s world, sugar is a weapon, not a crutch. Behind every beautiful plate at BRIX lies a history of burned fingers, sleepless nights, and years of obsessive repetition. No shortcuts. No soft landings. Just grind.

She came up the hard way—no culinary fairy tale here. A kid from a small town in Extremadura, she clawed her way into the kitchens of giants: Oriol Balaguer, Olivier Bajard, Heston Blumenthal. She learned to speak flavor fluently—in multiple languages, across continents. France. Singapore. South Africa. And now, Dubai. At each stop, she sharpened her skills. Took the beatings. Got better.

Today, she runs one of the boldest restaurants in the city. BRIX doesn’t serve food. It serves only desserts—and not the kind you expect. No red velvet. No tired tiramisù. These are desserts reimagined: meringue with saffron and caviar. Burnt pineapple with black cardamom. Frozen foie gras mousse. Savory, acidic, sometimes shocking—but always rooted in technique so tight it’s almost invisible.

Carmen doesn’t cook to impress. She cooks to say something. Her desserts whisper, scream, tease, provoke. Each dish is a dare: to rethink what dessert can be, and what a pastry chef should look like.

This isn’t elegance for elegance’s sake. It’s muscle memory. It’s wounds you don’t see under the chef’s coat. It’s prep lists, broken mixers, and training your palate until it picks up bitter notes no one else notices. It’s 20 years of learning how to break rules—after mastering them.

This isn’t the story of a pastry chef. It’s the story of a fighter. A builder.
A woman who made the sugar-coated world of desserts her battlefield—
And came out carving her own path, one plate at a time.

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