RIP (Simmich), Aaron Brownstone
Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 1:41 pm
Aaron passed away early this morning, a little after midnight. He was my dear friend, more like a brother, and I already miss him deeply.
We met about 27 years ago at a cigar lounge on the Westside called The Big Easy, down the street from UCLA. It's long gone now, but that place marked the start of a lifelong friendship. We connected instantly, trading banter and smartass comments like we?d known each other for years. From that day on, we were tight.
We spent countless hours together, smoking cigars at his place in Hollywood, exploring LA's food scene, or just hanging out talking about life. When he wasn't in LA, I'd visit him in Mammoth, where I met his partner Renee, who I love just as much as I loved Aaron. We'd cook, laugh, smoke, and share stories. They were both incredible friends to me.
When I met Aaron, I was just a 21 or 22-year-old kid from East LA, but he welcomed me with open arms. He became part of my family, coming to my parents' house for gatherings, chatting with my mom (he loved her cooking), and embracing the culture like it was his own. Aaron had his rough edges, but that was part of what made him so real, so genuine.
He had lived a full and complicated life, full of wild stories and close calls. He taught me so much about cigars, roasting coffee, even splitting wood, he got me hooked on CF and OLH. He was my cigar mentor and a true friend through every phase of my life.
Though we saw each other less after he moved to Palm Springs, we always stayed in touch. He supported me when I moved to the Bay Area, always having my back, even from a distance.
The last few years were tough. He beat cancer, but the toll was heavy. Just yesterday, I learned he was in hospice care. I hadn't spoken to him in a few months, but when last I did, he still had his spirit. I was lucky enough to talk to him one last time. I got to say I love you bro (one last time), to remind him of all our times together, and to leave nothing unsaid.
Aaron, you were one of a kind. I'll never forget the laughter, the smokes, the food, the stories, the lessons, and the love. Rest easy, my brother. I'll carry your memory with me always.
We met about 27 years ago at a cigar lounge on the Westside called The Big Easy, down the street from UCLA. It's long gone now, but that place marked the start of a lifelong friendship. We connected instantly, trading banter and smartass comments like we?d known each other for years. From that day on, we were tight.
We spent countless hours together, smoking cigars at his place in Hollywood, exploring LA's food scene, or just hanging out talking about life. When he wasn't in LA, I'd visit him in Mammoth, where I met his partner Renee, who I love just as much as I loved Aaron. We'd cook, laugh, smoke, and share stories. They were both incredible friends to me.
When I met Aaron, I was just a 21 or 22-year-old kid from East LA, but he welcomed me with open arms. He became part of my family, coming to my parents' house for gatherings, chatting with my mom (he loved her cooking), and embracing the culture like it was his own. Aaron had his rough edges, but that was part of what made him so real, so genuine.
He had lived a full and complicated life, full of wild stories and close calls. He taught me so much about cigars, roasting coffee, even splitting wood, he got me hooked on CF and OLH. He was my cigar mentor and a true friend through every phase of my life.
Though we saw each other less after he moved to Palm Springs, we always stayed in touch. He supported me when I moved to the Bay Area, always having my back, even from a distance.
The last few years were tough. He beat cancer, but the toll was heavy. Just yesterday, I learned he was in hospice care. I hadn't spoken to him in a few months, but when last I did, he still had his spirit. I was lucky enough to talk to him one last time. I got to say I love you bro (one last time), to remind him of all our times together, and to leave nothing unsaid.
Aaron, you were one of a kind. I'll never forget the laughter, the smokes, the food, the stories, the lessons, and the love. Rest easy, my brother. I'll carry your memory with me always.