Betsy Marks an Emotional Homecoming to Altadena — Resy | Right This Way

Betsy

4.8 · Wood Fired Fare · $

Altadena

Published: Oct. 6, 2025

Last October, my husband and I returned home to Altadena and headed to Rancho Bar to unwind. As we parked on Mariposa Street, we saw the lights on in a soon-to-open restaurant just down the street. “Hi, we’re just taking a look!” I said as I peeked into the dining room, with its rustic wood interior and wood-fired hearth. The owner greeted us warmly: “We’re testing steaks for the menu, wanna join?”

This is the genuine hospitality-forward perspective with which owner Tyler Wells runs Betsy (formerly Bernee). Wells, of L.A.’s well-known All Time and coffee connoisseur fame, opened Bernee in December 2024. It was an immediate hit, full every one of the 31 nights it was open.

On January 7, 2025, the Eaton Fire cut that celebration short. Wells’ restaurant miraculously survived, but his home, marriage, and spirit did not. The chef was left reeling, contemplating abandoning a dream. After some initial months of recuperating, Wells accepted an invitation to a residency at The Ecology Center in San Juan Capistrano — giving him carte blanche to live and cook on the farm, to reconnect with himself and his craft. The experience recentered Wells, who returned to Altadena determined to reopen his space, now renamed Betsy in honor of his mother.

Many months and a life-changing fire after our initial encounter, Wells texted me from 32,000 feet: “Sharon! Hope you’re doing super. Sorry for the late text but I’m on a plane, working, and it’s important. I’m hosting a dinner at the Altadena space for people important to me and the community, and I’d love it if you could be there. It’s time to open, and I want to sage the space and celebrate.”

As I arrived at Betsy on that early August evening, the backdrop of the mountains was its familiar pink sunset hue, despite the clearly visible remnants of the fire. I walked by the hardware store, a carcass. I looked at the mini mart, a pile of rubble. But inside, Betsy’s familiar warmth was gloriously rekindled, ready to embrace diners.

From the menu’s generously-dressed little gem Caesar and its charred vegetables to its “cheese we are liking” with grilled focaccia and the grilled strip steak topped with an endearing pad of compound butter, the wood-fired heart and soul of Betsy now stands restored and ready to welcome diners from across L.A.

We spoke with Wells after Betsy’s first night to talk about his decision to reopen, his vision for the renewed space, and his hopes for diners coming to spend an evening in Altadena.

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Sourcing is important to you. How did your residency at The Ecology Center impact the menu at Betsy?
It added emphasis. Working that closely with farmers renewed my appreciation for their expertise, especially when I go to the farmers’ market. I want to talk to farmers, see what they have too much of or what’s working for them, and plan the menu from there. I’m kind of a scavenger; I’m not looking to only handpick the best. I want to be their helper, which feels like a meaningful place for our menu to exist, and offers forced creativity.

I’m curious if there are stories about your staff that you can share, given their importance in the decision to reopen.
Two stories come to mind. We had a dishwasher, Ignacio, who I adored. He’s a hard worker, lovable and funny, and he lived nearby. It’s rare to find staff who live in Altadena, and going back to the neighborhood restaurant of it all, it’s somewhat of a personal mission for me to offer well paying jobs to locals at every role.

When I woke up on January 8th, among my hundreds of texts there was one from Ignacio that said, “Our house burned down. We have nothing.” I thought about him and his wife standing in the street with nowhere to go. I sent him something to help and told him to call me when he could, but I never heard from him again. Cut to a few weeks ago during an all-staff meeting and who should show up but Ignacio. It was so powerful — he had found his way back.

Another person is Courtney, who will ultimately lead our wine program. She was born and raised two blocks from the restaurant, and she lost her home in the fire. For her, this whole project has a deeper personal layer. She conducts herself with such pride, and it’s inspiring.

Over the next few months, what do you hope diners walk away with after a night at Betsy?
I hope for the same takeaway as anywhere else, but it’s heavier now. I hope they walk away with meaningful memories, feeling better than when they came in, and not just for the evening. I see us as being in the nurturing business. I want people to feel like they were in a beautiful, safe, happy, and caring space for a couple of hours, and that they want to come back. The greatest praise we can get is stopping at the host stand on the way out and saying, “I want to make six more reservations. I want to bring everybody I know here.”

Was there a specific moment that made you want to reopen the restaurant, or was it a cumulative momentum?
The principal consideration was our staff. They’re some of the greatest cooks and servers I’ve ever known, and I feel responsible for their livelihood. Eventually it became evident that the team was ready, and waiting for me. I may have never reopened but for their constant cadence. Their wellbeing became my motivation.

When I think about the reopening, what kind of imagery or thoughts come to mind?
The opening was perfect and exactly what I dreamed of. The restaurant was full of friends and people I didn’t know or who had been to the restaurant once before we closed. This space has become the best food and professional experience of my career. We [the staff] all had to scatter and figure out our lives in order to come back together, and as a result, we’re extremely grateful. There’s a shared feeling that we all left and reflected, and now there’s a new seriousness to what we do.

Photo by Danielle Evonne, courtesy of Betsy