Before Steve Himelfarb became a fixture in New Orleans, before he built a space where people gathered daily, he was shaping sound, not dough.
Born in Washington, D.C., and raised in Rockville, Maryland, Himelfarb moved to Los Angeles at 18 to pursue a career in music. He found his way into the recording industry as a sound engineer, working with artists like Bob Seger, Pat Benatar, and Sheila E. But it was in Louisiana—where he collaborated with Buckwheat Zydeco and BeauSoleil—that he found something deeper. The city didn’t just offer him work; it offered him a sense of place.
New Orleans has a way of pulling musicians in, of transforming visitors into locals. Himelfarb wasn’t just another transplant; he became a part of the fabric of the city, first through music and later through the small moments of connection he built every day. His recording studio became a space where sound and stories intertwined, a place where the city’s rhythm became his own.
Himelfarb spoke to OffBeat about his famous lox and eggs recipe in 2018, explaining,
“[My] menu is really a cross section of my life—what I grew up with in Washington DC, Jewish-American, Sunday brunch… Then in Los Angeles—fresh foods, roasted vegetables, tofu sandwiches, things like that. And then coming to New Orleans—Southern shrimp and grits meets catfish, meets boudin, meets andouille sausage… So the menu is a total cross section of my life. As a kid, during football season people would come over for bagels and lox and my dad would make lox and eggs. That was his dish, and a big deal. A New Yorker might call it a LEO—lox, eggs and onions—but basically it’s seared lox in onions and tomatoes and then you scramble eggs into that and put capers and onions on top. That’s directly what I grew up with, watching my dad cook. So to me, it was really important putting that on my menu because it’s directly from my childhood. Straight from 5-year-old Steve, standing next to his dad.”
Though many came to know Himelfarb through the bakery he later opened, music remained a central part of his life. The same precision and creativity that made him a respected engineer carried over into everything he did. His approach to building community—whether through soundboards or storefronts—was always rooted in an instinct for harmony.
Himelfarb, who died on Feb. 5 at his New Orleans home after a battle with cancer, was 61. His legacy, however, isn’t just in the albums he helped shape or the business he ran. It’s in the way he made space for people, in the way he listened.
More than the music he mixed, it was the way he moved through the world—with generosity, warmth, and an intuitive sense of what made something resonate—that defined him.
In the end, Steve Himelfarb didn’t just make music. He built community. One session, one conversation, one connection at a time.




