Cinco Facts About Cinco de Mayo
The Mexican state of Puebla is the cradle of many iconic Mexican dishes, including mole poblano. As a Mexican transplant, the festivities around Cinco de Mayo have never resonated with me.
I’m incredibly proud of Mexico’s unlikely victory against the better-equipped—and considerably larger—French army. But I must confess: the connection between the Battle of Puebla and the stereotypical images of sombreros, cacti, and mustaches continues to puzzle me.
And while I’ve gotten better at keeping a straight face when someone wishes me a “Happy Cinco de Mayo,” I still often find myself toggling between offering a quick history lesson or simply changing the subject. How do you gently break the news that a party in honor of a Bacchus-like figure dressed in mariachi garb is not even close to how Mexicans celebrate? More importantly, it completely misses the point.
In reality, Cinco de Mayo isn’t widely celebrated in Mexico. It’s more about observing it with parades and essay contests. And there’s a day off (my favorite part). Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for celebration, but this holiday is not Mexico’s Independence Day. And Mexico’s cultural contributions can’t—and shouldn’t—be reduced to a handful of clichés.
So, if you’re planning to throw a big Cinco de Mayo party, here are cinco things to know:
Cinco de Mayo commemorates Mexico’s unlikely victory over Napoleon’s French army at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862.
Puebla is the Mexican state where you’ll find one of our finest culinary exports: mole poblano. Some of Mexico’s most iconic dishes were born in Puebla and its convents.
The victory was short-lived. Napoleon regrouped and returned two years later to conquer Mexico. Ironically, that occupation introduced a lasting touch of French influence to Mexican cuisine, an influence later reinforced by Porfirio Díaz.
Mexicans mark the occasion with parades, reenactments, and a day off from school and work.
It’s not customary to say “Happy Cinco de Mayo.” In fact, we typically don’t say anything at all.
And if you ask me? I’d still rather just get the day off.
Why We Keep Going Back to Sfera
Sfera is a Dolce Gabbana daydream Walking into Sfera feels like stepping into a Dolce & Gabbana ad—rich tile, yellows, blues, and greens. Lemons, oranges and Moor’s heads lining the shelves (two large heads used to be at the counter making the entrance more dramatic, but they seem to have been relocated). Sunlight pouring through the windows.
The first time I went, I thought, someone really cares here. Not in the curated-for-Instagram way, but in the flavor-first kind of way.
Everything is made fresh. The focaccia is baked in-house. The soups are flavorful and clearly made from scratch.
The offerings are focused, but intentional. There’s the sfincione, a thick-cut Sicilian-style pizza with a golden cheese crust. And the arancini—crisp-fried risotto balls—filled with anything from meat to mushrooms, always with a dipping sauce on the side.
The sandwiches are honest but elegant. The artichoke tapenade, with a house-made citrusy spread, roasted red pepper and arugula, is one of my favorites. So is the slow-roasted chicken, layered with red pepper–almond relish and basil pesto, served on that same focaccia.
The artichoke tapenade sandwich at Sfera. I brought this one home where I plated it. If you’re a meat lover, go for the mortadella and capicola, but I’d ask for the giardiniera on the side. You’ll want control over that kind of flavor punch.
But the thing that knocks me out EVERY time is the Sicilian hot chocolate. Spiced with citrus and made with their house-made syrup, it’s topped with three pillowy marshmallows that melt slowly as you sip. Decadent? Yes—but not over the top and not too sweet. I know this is technically a winter drink, but honestly? This gives me a reason to no longer mind if it’s snowing in April.
Desserts here aren’t an afterthought. There’s a cherry-pistachio cupcake filled with sweet ricotta and a candied Door County cherry, topped with crushed pistachios, and rose petals. It’s as beautiful as it is delicious. And you will have a hard time finding better cannoli in Chicago.
The menu features vegan and gluten-free options, too—and none of them feel like a compromise.
The hospitality is remarkable. We love that dogs are welcome well beyond the patio, which is always such a relief when your family includes four-legged members. Our favorite pup never leaves without a treat.
Sfera also caters and ships—yes, they’ll send a little of this joy across the country.
It’s rare to find a place that does both: beauty and heart, but Sfera pulls it off.
And every time we go, we all leave happy.
Alfonso Sotelo’s 5 Rabanitos Brings Pilsen’s Spirit to Hyde Park
Chef Alfonso Sotelo opened 5 Rabanitos in Pilsen nearly a decade ago, showcasing his take on regional Mexican cuisine. Now in Hyde Park, that same spirit is at the center of the bustling space on 53rd Street — and yes, it’s already packed.
A mural featuring five little radishes, or ‘rabanitos,’ a delightful homage to the nickname Sotelo and his four siblings earned as children while selling radishes at the market. The Frontera alum credits his team for making the second location happen — and a true family effort, with his son Fernando now managing the Hyde Park restaurant. Chef Sotelo’s menu carries over a few of the standout dishes that made the original a Pilsen favorite, alongside new additions like a fish taco and a crispy fried chicken taco.
But we cannot stop thinking of the shrimp chile relleno — a roasted poblano, lightly battered and filled with melted cheese, resting in a mellow, gently spicy sauce. It’s served alongside shrimp marinated in serrano and cilantro and freshly made tortillas.
Chile relleno with shrimp is only available at 5 Rabanitos in Hyde Park. It’s fascinating to watch Mexican restaurants stretch beyond traditional enclaves — carving out space, gathering crowds, and thriving in new corners of the city.
Find more on our recent story for Eater Chicago.
A Life of Service: Why Taquizas Valdez Deserves a Spot on Your List
The team behindt Taquizas Valdez Some meals feed your body. Others feed yo ur soul. That’s exactly what’s happening at Taquizas Valdez, a new spot in Irving Park where chef Iván Valdez, who has dedicated his life to service—first in the military, is now in the kitchen. The mission? It’s still the same. To serve with purpose. To honor where he comes from.
Step inside, and you immediately feel that this place is personal. A mural on the wall tells Valdez’s story—his time in the Marine Corps his years in Chicago’s restaurant scene and, most importantly, his bond with his late mother, Rosa, whose dishes were creative and from the heart. This philosophy is the foundation of Taquizas Valdez.
Just like the mural on the wall, the menu—a lineup of tacos and tortas—speaks to the places, experiences and people that have shaped Valdez’s life.
Take the Americano taco, a nod to his Midwestern upbringing—steak and Muenster cheese folded into a flour tortilla. The cheese, rich and buttery, adds just enough tang to keep things interesting. Then there’s the pollo al limón—lime-marinated chicken thigh, onion, cilantro, avocado and Fresno chiles-— bright, punchy, a wink to Mexico’s obsession with lime.
The Americano taco at Taquizas Valdez Mushroom taco Chuy style Pollo al limón taco Then there’s the torta de chilaquiles—a Mexico City darling, from the same place Valdez’s parents call home, finally getting the love it deserves in Chicago. And the pambazo? Traditionally, it’s fried guajillo-soaked bread stuffed with potatoes and chorizo, but here, it’s filled with mushrooms. Not just any mushrooms—Chuy’s Mushrooms, named after one of the team members. A quiet nod to the hands that shape this kitchen and make the magic happen.
We were lucky to be introduced to this restaurant at a special event. We kicked things off with chicken wings, slicked in a choice of salsa verde, salsa roja or mole—the kind of thing you instantly wish was a fixture on the menu. Then came some carne asada sope, and the shrimp ceviche with salsa macha, which was an unexpected but welcome hit.
The tacos? The Americano and al pastor took the top spot for us. The al pastor had a nice marinade—not soggy, not overworked. The meat isn’t cubed. And while there’s no charcoal grill lending that signature kiss of char and the taste of fire that makes an al pastor irresistible if you’re craving one, this taco still hits the spot.
Mushroom taco Chuy style 
Taco al Pastor All taco fillings are available as tortas. There’s a Build-Your-Own (BYO) Taco option—a nod to Mexico’s taquizas at casual gatherings, where tables overflow with fillings, salsas and toppings for everyone to craft their perfect bite. At Taquizas Valdez you have your choice of corn or flour tortilla, toppings and salsas.
And that pizza oven? It came with the place, a relic from the restaurant before it. But Valdez saw something else—not just what it was, but what it could be. Now, it’s a bread oven, turning out fresh bolillos and pastries instead of pies. A quiet nod to Chicago’s deep pizza culture, with a twist. Because why the hell not? Reinvention is part of the story here—just like Valdez’s own.
But what really makes Taquizas Valdez special isn’t just the food—it’s the people. The team here is incredible, bringing creativity, pride and heart to every dish. And at a time when connection and culture matter more than ever, places like this remind us that, in the end, community is what food is all about.
Rosca, Tamales, and the Magic of Mexico’s Candlemas
A baby Jesus figurine is found in a slice of Rosca de Reyes. The person who discovers the figurine is responsible for sponsoring tamales for the gathered group. In Mexico, the air is thick with the steam and aroma of tamales on the eve of February 2. But the story begins weeks earlier around the table with rosca de Reyes, a sweet, circular, firm brioche-like bread adorned with sugar and dried fruits, symbolizing the crown of the Magi who traveled to meet baby Jesus. Baked inside is a hidden plastic or porcelain figurine, a nod to the biblical story of Mary and Joseph’s efforts to hide their newborn from Herod’s wrath.
Whoever finds the figurine in their slice—each person cuts their own—becomes the padrino of the upcoming feast, tasked with providing tamales for everyone present. It’s an honor, sure, but some slyly angle their slice away from the center, hoping to dodge the tiny guest hidden inside. Others, upon finding it, might pause for a split second before casually tucking it into their cheek, as if nothing happened. Sharing the rosca de Reyes is a communal ritual and a delicious way to keep the tradition alive.
Tamales, the heart and soul of the Día de la Candelaria feast, are a culinary marvel in their own right. Crafted from corn masa that has undergone the ancient, transformative process of nixtamalization, these bundles of joy are a testament to the depth and breadth of Mexican cuisine. Whether wrapped in corn husks or banana leaves—depending on the region—and steamed to perfection, each tamal carries the imprint of generations past, shaped by indigenous techniques, Spanish influence, and local ingredients.
But describing their physical preparation alone ignores the mysticism that runs through the kitchen; it’s believed that the energy brought to the tamal-making process—whether through dance, prayer, or the rhythm of music—affects the outcome, turning a simple meal into a communal exercise in alchemy.
Día de la Candelaria marks the day Jesus was presented at the temple and coincides with the first day of the Aztec calendar. Tamales were the food of choice for the feast, as many pre-Hispanic gods received corn offerings—it was believed that humans were made of corn.
But beyond its religious roots, the feast is a communal affair—one that unfolds in kitchens and dining rooms across Mexico and beyond. Sharing tamales on Día de la Candelaria is a reminder of the enduring power of food to bring people together across generations. It’s a tradition that doesn’t just honor the past; it stitches it into the present, inviting family and friends to the table to continue a story that is still being written, and like everything that is Mexico, it always entails a little bit of magic.
Mexico City Bites We’d Go Back For: A Handful of Mexico City’s Unmissable Eats
To me, Mexico City is more than just a destination—it’s home. Over the years, the city has transformed, and its culinary scene is now celebrated on the global stage. Yet beneath the international accolades and newfound spotlight, the “City of Palaces” remains the same warm, bubbly friend who invites you to a party every single day.
I’m lucky to visit regularly. On our most recent trip, we explored a vibrant mix of old favorites eateries and exciting newcomers. Yes, we’ve already checked off many of the headliners—Pujol, Migrante, Quintonil, Máximo Bistrot. In CDMX, good food isn’t just a luxury—it’s everywhere. With the Michelin Guide’s recent arrival in Mexico City, well-deserved recognition is finally being given to establishments, with winners popping up in places you’d least expect.
This list highlights some of the city’s rising stars alongside a few beloved spots we’ve cherished for decades. Whether you’re a first-time visitor or a seasoned explorer of Mexico City’s vibrant food scene, these are the places we keep going back to.
Au Pied de Cochon
Nestled within the Presidente InterContinental Hotel in Polanco, Au Pied de Cochon delivers a slice of Parisian charm right in the heart of Mexico City. Open 24/7, this French family-friendly brasserie is beloved by locals for its exceptional breakfasts, indulgent late-night beverages, and spectacular desserts.
While nearby Saks offers a lovely patio and an extensive drink menu, Au Pied de Cochon stands out with its superior late-night offerings.
Café LunaArena
Baklava topped with pistachio ice cream at LunaArena. Mexico City’s coffee scene reflects the city itself—layered, dynamic, and intrinsically diverse. With its Turkish coffee, Café LunaArena slides seamlessly into this mosaic, adding its own color (and spice) to the narrative. Tucked into a vibrant storefront in the famous Condesa neighborhood, the coffee—in all its forms—warm, cold, bold, delicate…
And then there’s the baklava. Order the plate that arrives with pistachio ice cream. If you can, grab a table outside and stay for a while, like the locals do.
There’s a second location in Roma Norte, but I’d recommend starting with Condesa. While both have charm, the Roma Norte spot stands out in character and execution.
Café Nin
From cocktails to tea, Café Nin offers a creative array of options. Nestled in a charming Porfirian townhouse in Colonia Juárez, Café Nin lives up to the social media buzz that has likely already brought it to your attention. The large windows invite natural light to pour in, bathing the space in a warm, inviting glow. We stumbled in during a thunderstorm and were instantly delighted by the pan dulce. Drink options are thoughtful and extensive, we ordered a mint and pinenut tea. There’s a small patio if you want to enjoy the year-round benign weather.
El Cardenal
Seasonal chiles en nogada at El Cardenal El Cardenal is a portal to Mexico’s rich culinary heritage, right in the heart of Mexico City’s Centro Histórico. Tucked inside a gorgeous French-style building, the flagship location on Calle de la Palma has made the restaurant a favorite of locals. Sitting here, you’re part of something bigger. You’re sharing the table with families, visitors and businessmen who’ve made this their spot for more than five decades.
The menu is a tribute to the traditions that define Mexican cuisine, spotlighting flavors from states like Veracruz, Tlaxcala, and Hidalgo, all crafted with time-honored techniques. Consider starting your day here. The conchas with nata—sweet, airy brioche served with rich, creamy clotted cream—are the kind of thing you dream about. Pair them with their signature hot chocolate and thank me later.
If you go for lunch of dinner, live trios fill the space with music and play songs on request (ask for price per song). The service is warm and effortless, like it’s been perfected over decades (because it has). El Cardenal is more than a restaurant—it’s a place where tradition lives on, and where every visit feels like coming home.
El Califa de León
México City´s El Califa de León El Califa de León isn’t just a taco stand—it’s proof that simplicity done right can be extraordinary. Since 1968, this family-owned taquería in Mexico City’s San Rafael neighborhood has mastered the art of letting quality shine.
Do not let the lines deter you, they move quickly. Be prepared to enjoy your taco street side, as there is only a small bar with three stools.
The menu is straightforward, but you’re here for the gaonera—a thinly sliced beef cut kissed with salt and lime, grilled to perfection, and served on a freshly made corn tortilla. Do not skip on the smokey red salsa.
In 2024, El Califa de León became the world’s first taco stand to earn a Michelin star, a testament to its unwavering dedication to tradition and craft. If you’re wondering whether to go, the answer is yes.
Note: There is a taquería chain named “El Califa”. They are not the same restaurant. El Califa de León is in the San Rafael neighborhood.
El Rincón de La Lechuza
Tacos here are exceptional, with handmade tortillas constantly being pressed and grilled to perfection. The menu includes not only classics—yes, you’re here for al pastor—but also unique offerings like liver and rajas, perfect for adventurous palates.
And let’s not forget the quesos fundidos. These melted cheese delights are seasoned with a diverse selection of toppings, making them irresistible.
Ficelle
For lovers of pastry and pan dulce, Ficelle is a dream. This French-inspired café and bakery brings a slice of Paris to the heart of Mexico City, with artisanal breads, croissants, and delicately beautiful cakes. There’s a little patio outside,Gaudir
Gaudir´s celebrated chef Cesc Durán We discovered Gaudir, tucked away in the Verónica Anzures neighborhood, through the recommendation of wine expert Sandra Buch, and after a trip to Barcelona. Our first visit took place long before Chef Cesc Durán earned his well-deserved spot as one of Food & Wine en Español’s Best New Chefs of 2024. Together with his wife, Gaby, ched Durán has crafted a space where his passion and talent create a dining experience that feels both elevated and deeply personal.
The menu is an homage to Catalán cuisine, with Durán’s meticulous technique shining in every dish. The oxtail cannelloni is unforgettable, but truthfully, everything we’ve tried has been remarkable. The wine pairings are thoughtful and expertly curated, and the team’s warm, attentive hospitality makes you feel as though you’ve been welcomed into their home.
While parking is easy, the restaurant itself is tucked into a residential area, so it can be a bit tricky to spot. But trust me—once you find it, you’ll be glad you did.
Restaurante San Ángel Inn
Mexico City is home to many iconic haciendas-turned-restaurants, but Hacienda de San Ángel holds a special kind of magic. Its intimate courtyard, lush gardens, and serenading trios create an atmosphere that feels both romantic and quintessentially Mexican.
Start your meal with escamoles—buttery, nutty ant eggs that are a delicacy worth trying. Wash them down with one of the hacienda’s exceptional margaritas. You are here for traditional Mexican food and it´s all great. Located just a short walk from Frida Kahlo’s house, this hacienda is a celebration of everything extraordinary about Mexico.
Iwashi
If you’re craving something unexpected, Edo Kobayashi´s Sushi Iwashi is the place to be. This intimate, 14-seat sushi bar blends classic Japanese techniques with the freshest ingredients, creating sushi that melts in your mouth. Even the desserts impress. On our last visit, a peach and ricotta mochi stole the show. In a city brimming with culinary excellence, Iwashi proves that sometimes simplicity, executed flawlessly, is all you need.
Masala y Maíz
Masala y Maíz takes you on a journey through the culinary crossroads of Mexico, India, and East Africa. What began as a research project by chefs Norma Listman and Saqib Keval has evolved into a vibrant culinary space where migration, trade, and tradition converge.
Each dish tells a story. From suadero samosas to a ceviche adorned with uchuva’s sweet tartness and the crunch of a papadam, every bite feels like poetry. The menu is a celebration of intertwined flavors, blending histories and traditions into something entirely new.
Beyond the food, Masala y Maíz uses its platform to explore social justice, art, and environmental issues. However, while the dishes are exceptional, our experience came with a caveat—the service didn’t quite match the culinary brilliance. Still, the food’s artistry makes it worth a visit, though it’s best to temper your expectations when it comes to hospitality.
Siembra Comedor y Tortillería
Soft shell blue crab taco at Siembra Comedor y Tortillería Siembra Comedor y Tortillería pays homage to Mexico’s agricultural heritage, with a focus on sustainable, seasonal farming. Chefs Israel Montero and Karina Mejía craft a menu that’s deeply rooted in the traditions of the milpa, offering dishes that are both innovative and timeless.
Highlights include milpa soup, with the chewy masa dumplings known and chocolates for delightful texture contrast, and a softshell crab taco that lingers in our minds. The heirloom corn tortillas are a revelation, adding depth and authenticity to every bite. The hospitality is equally remarkable—warm, thoughtful, and genuine. If you’re debating between the taquería and comedor, start here. Note there is a standalone taquería, Siembra, that is part of the same group. We tried both. Service is spectacular throughout, but the food at the comedor is superior.
Taquería Selene
My parents have been Taquería Selene fans since the ’70s, and according to them, I had my first taste of their tacos al pastor while still in the womb. Maybe that’s why this place holds such a gravitational pull over my family.
If tacos are a love language, Taquería Selene speaks it fluently. The tacos al pastor—juicy, perfectly spiced pork with just a whisper of sweetness from the pineapple—are a tribute to the magic of street food done right. Decades later, Selene is still calling us back. Don’t skip the “gringa,” an al pastor taco with cheese.
Service is extraordinarily attentive and efficient. Come prepared to write down your order on a little form, as is the norm at most taquerías. Ordering ‘con todo’ means cilantro, onion, and pineapple if you’re getting al pastor. Limes come standard—use them liberally.
Tajín
Duck chile en nogada by El Tajín´s Ana María Arroyo. In the cultural hub of Coyoacán, El Tajín stands as a beacon of regional Mexican cuisine. Founded in 1993 by the iconic Alicia Gironella and Giorgio De’ Angeli, the restaurant celebrates the diverse flavors of Michoacán, Guerrero, Yucatán, and Veracruz.
Led by Chef Ana María Arroyo, the menu showcases traditional recipes like Michoacán charales (smelt) and seasonal specialties such as chiles en nogada, which we were lucky to savor. El Tajín also hosts unique culinary events that honor Mexico’s rich gastronomic heritage, making it a place where history and innovation coexist beautifully.
Wine Bar by CMB
For wine lovers, Wine Bar by CMB is a destination unto itself. Created by the renowned Concours Mondial de Bruxelles, this sophisticated yet approachable spot offers award-winning wines and spirits from around the globe, available by the glass, bottle, or curated flights.
The food, crafted by Chef Daniel Nates, is equally exceptional. His inventive take on Mexican cuisine elevates each dish, making it a perfect pairing for the bar’s stellar wine selection.
I celebrated my birthday here, and it was unforgettable. Whether you’re a seasoned connoisseur or just beginning your wine journey, Wine Bar by CMB deserves a spot on your list.
El Califa de León Meets Chicago: Can Michelin-Worthy Tacos Travel?
By BRENDA STORCH
When I heard NYC taco chain Tacombi was hosting the celebrated El Califa de León as a pop-up in Chicago, I was intrigued—and judging by the lines snaking down the block, I wasn’t the only one. Could the magic of Mexico City’s Michelin-star-worthy taquería be conjured in this fleeting experience?
I’d just tried El Califa de León’s legendary gaoneras a month or so ago (read about it here), and the memory was still vivid—so vivid, in fact, that when people started asking, “Have you tried it yet?” I couldn’t resist.
I joined the crowd—a mix of taco devotees, local media, and curious food aficionados—and stood in line. In the rain. Twice.
Yes, twice.
The first attempt? A bust. By the time I reached the door on my second try, the coveted gaonera—a round, somewhat flat cut of beef from the front leg near the chest—was off the menu for the remainder of the pop-up. And this wasn’t just any taco. The gaonera is the crown jewel of El Califa de León, its raison d’être, the dish that’s earned it a Michelin star and put its owner, Mario Alonso, on the culinary map. Its name pays homage to the bullfighting pass it’s named after—a nod to the artistry and know-how both disciplines demand.
I settled for the two options left: chuleta and costilla. Don’t get me wrong—the pork chuleta, and the beef costilla, (also rib meat) both marinated and kissed by the griddle, were solid options. But they couldn’t quite fill the shoes of the gaonera, that rare cut capable of transforming a taco into an experience.
Then there was the setting. Tacombi’s effort to channel the soul of a Mexican taquería might come off a little too polished for some, a little too staged. It did for me. The electric trompo (likely created for compliance) in the corner is a metaphor, stripped of the primal crackle and hypnotic blaze of the real thing. And the absence of a taquero—the master whose hands and intuition transform tacos into simultaneously a magic trick and ephemeral art—was palpable. Instead, there was a bustling assembly line by the griddle. Efficient, sure, but the soul, the essence, was missing.
Tacombi´s El Califa de León Pop Up Electric trompo at Tacombi Finally, after much anticipation, the tacos arrived. And they were fine—good, even—but something had been lost in transit. The tortillas weren’t handmade, and the salsas, though pleasant, lacked the complexity and heat that make you stop mid-bite and nod. Even the lime—a taco’s simplest yet most crucial sidekick—required a request and a wait, all while the tacos threatened to go cold. It was a bittersweet reminder: the heart of Mexico City is not so easily replicated; some things simply don’t travel well.
Tacos de Chuleta at the El Califa de León´s Pop-Up in Chicago But here’s the thing—maybe Tacombi’s pop-up wasn’t about perfection. It was about capturing a sliver of the experience, a taste of the kind of tacos that inspire people to book flights and land at El Califa de León’s doorstep. And they got that right. The lines, the buzz, the collective anticipation—they were proof of how far people will go for something extraordinary.
I am genuinely thrilled to see El Califa de León recognized as a Michelin-worthy destination. It’s not just about stars or accolades; it’s a tribute to the craft and hard work of the taquero, the layers of tradition folded into every tortilla, and the proof that a taco can shatter expectations, transcend borders and challenge what we think good food can be.
So, if you want the real thing, go to Mexico. Savor the gaonera on handmade tortillas. Try the salsas made with ingredients touched by the local sun and cooked under an impossible boiling-point altitude. Experience the feeling of standing on a corner with a taco that’s just been passed to you, warm and perfect. Find one of the three spots available at the bar or devour your taco standing up.
Some tacos are just worth the journey.
Craving the magic of Italy’s Marocchino in Chicago
Marocchino and Maritozzo at Cova in Milan. Vienna had me at the first sip of a mélange—an airy, delicate coffee made with lightly roasted beans and a blend of frothed and steamed milk (a nod to its name). This cappuccino-like creation has a quiet magic to it– It’s the kind of drink that invites you to linger in a place that truly understands the art of drinking coffee.
Mélange at Cafe Hawelka in Vienna. Then, Milan threw a new obsession my way: the small yet mighty Marocchino. The name might throw you off—it’s not Moroccan at all. This intense drink was born in Piedmont and slowly spread across Italy. Made with just three essential ingredients—coffee, cocoa powder, and milk—layered in perfect balance and served in a warm shot glass, it delivers a rich experience that stays with you. It’s the kind of discovery that makes you fall for a place in a way no guidebook ever could.
I longingly try to recreate this magic at home and search for it in local coffee shops. I recently discovered that Eataly offers something similar—the Bicerin. Their version features whipped cream, giving it a much sweeter, heavier twist, so I asked for frothed milk instead. It is good, but not exactly how I remember it. You won’t get that see-through warm shot glass here either, which I believe helps keep the layers in place.
I will keep looking.
Día de Muertos: Why the Right Name Matters
Photo: Día de Muertos in Oaxaca, México. Photo provided by: Azucena Suárez As Día de Muertos draws near, the sights of sugar skulls, pan de muerto, cempasúchitl flowers, and towering altars honoring our loved ones, fill homes and restaurants. This tradition has crossed borders, bringing the heart of this Mexican celebration to communities far and wide.
In the past decade, I’ve watched as Día de Muertos has gained real traction in the U.S., becoming stronger each year. Schools, community centers, and even major brands have started hosting their own events. In fact, this year I was delighted to find an entire selection of ofrenda essentials in downtown Chicago.
Yet, some details are slipping through the cracks—like calling it “Día de los Muertos” instead of Día de Muertos. This isn’t just a linguistic slip. When we shift from Día de Muertos to Día de los Muertos, we lose a little of the celebration’s soul. It’s not just a day for honoring “the dead” in some distant, abstract way; it’s about the living honoring our dead side by side. Día de Muertos, in its simplicity, speaks directly to that connection.
Día de Muertos isn’t a spectacle meant to be admired from afar. It’s a day when the dead and the living gather around the same table. Families set out an extra glass of mezcal, get together to prepare plates of their loved ones’ favorite foods, and fill the air with music to host them. It’s also a time to cherish those around us, and to remember that this tradition belongs as much to the living as it does to the spirits we honor.
Interestingly, the influence of U.S. pop culture on Día de Muertos has even circled back to Mexico, shaping the celebration in new ways. In 2015, the James Bond movie “Spectre” inspired a new tradition, and as a result, Mexico City now hosts a parade. And while it’s natural for traditions to evolve, it’s essential to keep them grounded in their roots or at least try to understand them so that we know why they matter.
Perhaps that’s why it’s a little jarring to see big corporations, marketing campaigns, and even well-intentioned small businesses miss the mark with “Día de los Muertos.” Adding a “los” might seem like a harmless translation of “Day of the Dead,” but as it becomes more widespread, this subtle shift keeps the living out of the celebration, gradually stripping away the essence that makes it Día de Muertos in the first place.
If Día de Muertos teaches us anything, it’s that memory, like language, is alive. Getting the name right is about honoring a legacy and preserving a tradition. So let’s call it by its real name—Día de Muertos—and remember that, much like tradition itself, every name carries a story.
Death is a Party: Día de Muertos
“Mexicans are familiar with death; they joke about it, caress it, sleep with it, and celebrate it. It is one of their favorite playthings and their most steadfast love.”
-Octavio Paz
Photos: Lissette Storch – Puebla, Mexico
Death is a verb and a noun.
In Mexico, we’ve personified death, dressing her up and giving her endearing nicknames—le hablamos de tú*.
Death is a she.
Originally, sugar skulls were crafted as a reminder of death’s ever-present nature in the dimension of the living, lurking around every corner. They’re just one of many expressions of our inevitable encounter with “the lady of many names”: La Catrina (“the rich or elegant one”), La Tía de las Muchachas (“the girls’ aunt”), La Fría (“the cold one”), La Novia Blanca (“the white bride”).
Death roams among us.
Death is life.
Like any Mexican holiday, food takes the spotlight on Día de Muertos. Alongside pan de muerto—”bread of the dead”—and cempasúchil flowers, sugar skulls are staples of the celebration. Everything about Día de Muertos has intention and weight: the bread symbolizes the circle of life and communion with the dead, while the flowers pay homage to the fleeting nature of existence.
In rural Mexico, this ritual blends form and meaning in a way that’s tangible and sacred.
Growing up in the city, I mostly watched from the sidelines. It wasn’t until my grandmother passed and my uncle and mother took on the responsibility of honoring this three-thousand-year-old tradition that I got pulled in, finding myself increasingly fascinated by it.
Year after year, my family embarks on a journey to a small village on the outskirts of Puebla,
where we build an ofrenda in honor of my grandmother, great-grandmother, and other beloved relatives. These cherished souls are remembered with offerings of their favorite dishes. My grandmother, who had a passion for cooking, is honored not only with food but also with her favorite kitchen tools, carefully placed around her photograph.
Candles serve a dual role, symbolizing both hope and faith while lighting the way for the departed as they make their descent. Water, too, is placed to quench their thirst and symbolize purity. Through these ofrendas, we keep their memory close and call upon their spirits.
The celebration continues at the cemetery, where the living and the departed meet to share a meal, listen to music, and enjoy fireworks.
For a few days in November, in Mexico, death is a party.
The cemetery of the little village of San Francisco Acatepec, where my grandmother is buried. * ‘‘Hablar de tú’ means to address someone informally, in contrast to the more respectful ‘usted,’ which is used for strangers or those who haven’t given permission for familiarity.
For lovers of pastry and pan dulce, Ficelle is a dream. This French-inspired café and bakery brings a slice of Paris to the heart of Mexico City, with artisanal breads, croissants, and delicately beautiful cakes. There’s a little patio outside,
