Although I have explored many different types of cooking in my forty+ years of being a chef, La Cocina Mexicana is the closest to my heart.

My maternal grandmother used to run a little fonda in Santa Rosa Hospital in San Antonio, Texas. Her Tex-Mex food was based on the most incredibly chewy flour tortillas, crispy corn chalupa shells stuffed with pinto beans, and exceptional hot tamales. The cupboard was full of her famous homemade jams, fruit of the large variety of trees she nurtured in her yard.

As a child, her kitchen was the center of my universe. Something about the aromas and the language spoken over steaming cups of coffee seemed exotic and mysterious and was embraced wholeheartedly.

When I first came to Oaxaca, I had long been a chef, but had never grown a thing in my life. I actually thought that beans grew on trees! What a revelation to grow, harvest, and eat my own produce! The village neighbors and market women nurtured my biggest passion– the Oaxacan kitchen and its enormous range of delicacies.

Oaxaca invited a deep appreciation of Old Mexico and the mixture of cultures. Here, time had stood still and I was enchanted by every burro laden with corn going to the mill; every horse-drawn cart filled with alfalfa for the cows and horses and I was filled with laughter at the sight of the strutting guajolote, wild turkey, puffing up his chest, to impress his mate.