It is 6:30 pm – the workday of most of the taco, quesadilla and memela vendors in the city is over, but “The Artist’s” shift has just begun. Every day, as the dusk light bathes the streets, 34-year-old Caleb Santiago sets up his food cart right below the centuries-old clock that overlooks the corner of 5 de Mayo and Murguía. By 7:00 pm, he is ready for another night of juicy hamburgers and hot dogs. Among all the late-night hamburger stalls sprawled across the city, Caleb’s is something else. Initially known as just “Cangreburgers,” this little SpongeBob Squarepants-inspired cart has been feeding Oaxacans for the last 16 years.

Editor’s note: We are very happy to be able to add Oaxaca to the growing list of cities CB is covering. Our coverage of that city’s deep and fascinating culinary scene begins today, with our report on Oaxaca’s State of the Stomach. Every Sunday, a vendor named Domitila heads out from a village called Etla and makes the hour-long journey to Oaxaca, where she sets up a small stand at a market on the north side of town and sells tamales filled with her homemade stews and moles. The many ingredients for these stews and moles cook slowly, for hours, after which Domitila combines them with spices, chile, chicken or cheese and mixes them into a cornmeal dough spread inside a cornhusk and then steamed – the quintessential Oaxacan snack, one that combines all of the area’s agricultural and culinary richness in one package.

Growing up in Oaxaca, la gelatina rosita (“pinkish jelly”) was a biweekly ritual – every other Saturday, our mother would return from the market with this special dessert. It was so ingrained in our routine that we couldn’t imagine life without it. In fact, on a family trip to Mexico City, we were shocked to learn that gelatina rosita wasn’t readily available. Did they know what they were missing? It was only when we were older did we learn the proper name of this precious Oaxacan specialty: nicuatole. Some say its etymology can be traced back to Nahuatl (one of the many Indigenous languages spoken in ancient Mexico), specifically the words necuatl (“agave honey”) and atolli (“liquid corn”). While this may be true, it doesn’t quite portray what nicuatole is, not really.