Field notes from Yucatán kitchens, mezcal pairing rituals, and the patient craft behind every plate. Pull up a chair — these dispatches travel best with a copita in hand.
A long-form essay from our head chef, exploring why the traditional underground oven — once a weekend ritual in villages across Yucatán — still shapes the way we cook today.
Before there were thermometers, there was a pit dug into the earth, coals banked from citrus wood, and banana leaves layered like memory. In this essay, we trace the lineage of the pib from Maya ceremony to a Sunday gathering in Tixkokob — and the surprising lessons it still offers modern kitchens chasing the next shortcut.
Read the full letterRecipes worth slowing down for, notes on agave spirits, and the small rituals that turn a meal into a memory.
A backyard-friendly adaptation of the classic, using a Dutch oven and the same achiote marinade we use at the restaurant. The aromatics do most of the work — you just have to wait.
An informal guide from our beverage director: an earthy espadín for citrus-bright plates, a smoky madrecuixe for our slow ribs, and a wild tobalà worth saving for the slowest evenings.
5 a.m. in Mérida: the smoky glass of an orange-and-achiote paste, a stack of banana leaves, and vendors who still call my grandmother by name. A photographic wander through the market that started it all.
Why nixtamal matters, how to find a good masa near you, and a five-minute technique that turns a stack of tortillas into the heart of any Yucatán table.
The unassuming fruit behind almost every dish on our menu — and what to do when you can't find one at the grocery store.
The titles that taught us, the ones we keep on the shelf above the line, and a new translation that finally does right by the peninsula's home cooks.
Every dispatch is filed under one of these — wander, then linger.