Chasing Mole: chef Geno Bahena and the Love that Loved him Back

In the late 80s, when “Mexican food” in the U.S. was still too often reduced to nachos and margaritas, chef Geno Bahena was in the kitchen doing something far more daring. Bahena helped open Frontera Grill and Topolobampo, two restaurants that redefined the conversation and proved Mexican food could be as nuanced, layered, emotional and intellectual as any cuisine in the world.

But this chef’s story begins far earlier, in Guerrero, Mexico. At the age of ten, he stood beside his grandmother as she stirred a pot of mole rojo. Built from 32 ingredients, roasted, toasted, ground, and coaxed together, this regional delicacy was “festive, seductive and impossibly complex.” Mole wasn’t just food; it was memory and ritual, and it became the north star of his life. By twelve, Bahena cooking on his own, bound by strict rules: eat everything you make, and leave the kitchen spotless. His first dish, chilaquiles verdes, was an instant success.

Rebellion had become freedom, and freedom had become passion.

As a teenager, young Geno fell in love. The feeling was real, but the story never unfolded. Heartbreak only sharpened his passion for cooking. When he told his father he wanted to be a professional cook, he found no encouragement. Cooking, his father believed, wasn’t a path worth following. Still, he offered a bittersweet blessing: “Go to the United States. If it doesn’t work, come back. I’ll help you.”

So, Bahena left home trying to outrun heartache and chasing a dream no one else believed in but him.

In Chicago, he tried to apply for college, but admissions were closed. A teacher asked him to cook. He made mole, no recipe, no measurements, just memory. That dish opened doors.

The road was far from easy. Twice he nearly dropped out of school for lack of money. Once, without bus fare, the same mentor who saw his talent and opened a spot in college for him, pressed cash into his hand. When Frontera Grill was about to open, his school sent him to practice there. Expecting an entry-level job, he was offered the sous chef position instead. Afraid he was not ready, he turned it down. According to Bahena, three months later, Rick Bayless offered the position to him again, this time with a salary, a uniform and a place on the team. Bahena said yes.

By 1999, he was ready to build a kitchen of his own. Izcaputzalco began with just 40 seats, then quickly grew to 140 as word spread. The menu celebrated Mexico with regional flavors drawn from all 32 states and a signature rotation of Oaxaca’s seven legendary moles, each paired with unexpected proteins like guinea hen, rabbit, venison, and poussin.

When guests wanted more, Geno answered with Chilpancingo: bold and ambitious in River North. From there, his horizon kept expanding. He lent his hand and vision to 36 restaurants nationwide, from California to Boston to Arkansas. Most recently, he introduced Manchamanteles to Logan Square. Named for Oaxaca’s “tablecloth stainer” mole, both sweet and spicy, it shows Bahena is still finding new ways to express his craft.

That craft carried him beyond restaurants as well, to stages like the White House and the U.S. Capitol, where he cooked for 1,000 guests.

Today, Chef Geno Bahena is recognized as one of Chicago’s great voices in Mexican food. Some call him a mole icon, but for him, recognition was never the point. What mattered was honoring ingredients, celebrating tradition, and gathering people at the table: a forty-year history of turning memory into craft and craft into connection. And in that long pursuit, he not only caught his dream; he found in cooking the one love that never left, the love that loved him back.