As he drove us to Tlacolula, some 19 miles east of Oaxaca City, in his burgundy-and-white taxi, salsa music in the background and a tiny bronze cross hanging from his rearview mirror, our driver Félix was philosophizing about migration. Like many other Oaxacan men, he had, at one point, crossed the border from Mexico to California in search of a better life. And like many fellow countrymen, he had come back home because he refused to live a life of persecution and uncertainty due to his legal status as an undocumented immigrant. His life back in Mexico was good; hard, yes, but joyful. “I can eat fresh fruits, dance with my kids, watch them grow. If this is not quality of life, I don’t know what it is,” he reflects. The music stops and so does Félix’s taxi. In the middle of the Tlacolula highway we’ve arrived at one of the area’s largest gas stations, and our destination.

La Bamby bakery sits on a strategic corner in downtown Oaxaca, between two tourist magnets, the Zócalo and the Santo Domingo church. The street corner lacks many of the vibrant elements that make this colorful colonial city a dreamy backdrop for Instagram posts; a bank stands across from it and an Oxxo, a national convenience store chain that plagues most Mexican cities, sits next to it. Like its neighbors, La Bamby is highly functional, serving one very practical purpose: supplying the city with fresh, affordable bread. With over 50 years of history, the bakery is an institution in Oaxaca.

Oaxaca’s deep culinary heritage is, like in many places, a result of its geography: a big valley formed by small ones, all surrounded by mountains, rich soil and warm weather. In fact, this valley reminds us of a clay pot, where many ingredients are mixing, aging and melting together to become something new over the heat of the fire. Oaxaca’s best restaurants are firmly rooted in this unique geography and layered history of the state. Here, food is more than just sustenance; it's a living link to the past and an expression of community – and it’s a source of immense pride. From the foundational significance of corn, prepared in countless forms, to the complexity of its celebrated moles, Oaxaca is all about depth. To highlight this profound connection between land, culture, and cuisine, our local team has rounded up their essential spots in the city, for tlayudas, memelas, mole, and beyond.

In Oaxaca, when friends come together to eat after a long night out, sitting down for brunch becomes a challenge – everyone has different cravings and dietary needs. In the heart of the city center, there is a place with something for everyone: Tendajón Agavería The all-day eatery is a true standout among the numerous restaurants that serve classic Oaxacan food, offering a variety of dishes that oscillate between traditional and innovative flavors. From the Croque Madame with smoked quesillo to a fresh poleo mint couscous with shrimp cooked in chintextle (chili paste), the menu has a strong Oaxacan overtone interpreted in very unexpected ways.

The history of Oaxacan food is deeply linked to the concept of adaptation. Our culinary identity has many chapters: the Mesoamerican native period, the colonial reign of Nueva España and the Mexico of the 20th century, which received another wave of immigrants who brought their gastronomic traditions and let them combine with the native and more tropical ingredients of these altitudes. That is the story of the salchicha ejuteca, a European style beef sausage that unexpectedly became one of the most desired foods on the Oaxacan snack table. While traditional corn-based products are a signature of Oaxacan cuisine, the salchicha ejuteca is an underestimated traditional element in the state’s food landscape. “Nobody knows for sure where the salchicha comes from.

Throughout this year, food has been a shelter and a source of comfort and healing. From tacos that put us at ease with their tender meats and flavorful salsas, to drinks that cooled us down and helped us sharpen our weary minds, the following are the bites that, for us, were some of the best in town in 2024. - María Ítaka A little space that feels familiar despite its very recent opening, La Frijolería specializes in all things beans, which are one of the ultimate comfort foods in our cuisine. Ironically, before La Frijolería opened its doors, it was hard to find a restaurant in town where beans were served as anything other than a side dish. But now our cravings can rest assured that they will be fulfilled.

At the bottom of a quiet street in Colonia Reforma, a neighborhood located in the northern-central area of Oaxaca City which hides many of the city’s best-kept food secrets, we find Garnachas La Güera. While the area is characterized by its quiet, residential streets, this restaurant is a small paradise where joy, music and good food transport you to the tropics. Garnachas La Güera specializes in food from Juchitán, a village in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, close to Oaxaca’s southeastern coast and the border with the neighboring state of Chiapas. If Oaxaca is a state, Juchitán is like its own country within it.

In early fall, Oaxaca’s landscapes are a study in green. Walking through the city’s colonial center, tall trees’ crowns explode in verdant glory, while vistas in the countryside are even more impressive, boasting an array of variegated grasses, deeply colored agaves, and, of course, stalk upon stalk of corn, heavy with plenty of ears of the country’s most prized aliment. It’s the end of the rainy season here in this southwestern state, the humid period that typically runs from June until October. And after a disappointingly dry season last year, farmers and home growers across the region are celebrating the success of their milpa, the ancient, complementary agricultural system of corn, beans, squashes, and wild and domesticated greens growing all together in interdependent and symbiotic harmony.

Oaxaca’s urban identity has been shaped in part through food and eating habits, a phenomenon that is perhaps best experienced as the sun starts to set. At dusk, food stalls start to open, filling the streets with the aroma of dishes that are now staples of Oaxaca’s vibrant food scene. These sweet and savory treats have been developed over decades – if not centuries – to become integral parts of what we now recognize as Oaxacan cuisine. Each dish and ingredient here tells a long story, deeply connected to the place where it’s offered and the time of day it’s consumed. From the tortas and tostadas serving the hungry after-work crowd to lime-and-chile seasoned elote and esquites (corn on the cob or in a cup – the perfect mobile snack to enjoy in the park) to late-night tlayudas or a smoky mezcal nightcap, the Oaxacan night is for savoring.

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.

Oaxaca’s street food scene has surprises for us every day of the week. From breakfast to lunch, we can find plenty of stalls with a plethora of options: eggs, tamales, tortas, tacos, hot drinks, juices and more. However, when sunset bathes the streets of the historic center, most of these stalls are disassembled into heaps of tarps, letting esquites, burger and hot dog stands take over the night shift. Fortunately, this is not the case for Empanadas del Carmen Alto, a classic among locals for serving up daytime dishes until midnight. The menu at Empanadas del Carmen Alto is succinct: memelas (thick corn tortillas topped with various ingredients), the famous empanadas de amarillo (calzone-like corn tortillas filled with chicken and mole amarillo) and squash blossom or mushroom quesadillas.

In Oaxaca, social matters are reflected in our foodways: there are certain flavors for times of sharing and growing, others in times of mourning, and many more when it’s time to support and celebrate. Some of our earliest lessons come through the honeyed flavors of dulces regionales – “regional sweets.” These represent an interesting range of treats that look as if they were taken from a 100-year-old recipe book – which they are. Nevertheless, in a world of colorful cakes and extravagant cupcakes, these complex traditional sweets risk being lost forever. Once upon a time not long ago, colorful displays of stalls selling dulces regionales adorned almost every corner and plaza in the Historic Center, but nowadays, at least in the city, the former glory of these treats has started to fade. The current sources for Oaxacan regional sweets is down to just a few makers taking private orders, a couple of stalls in the Benito Juarez market, and a dozen street vendors in the city’s most touristic areas.

In Oaxaca, social matters are reflected in our foodways: there are certain flavors for times of sharing and growing, others in times of mourning, and many more when it’s time to support and celebrate. Some of our earliest lessons come through the honeyed flavors of dulces regionales – “regional sweets.” These represent an interesting range of treats that look as if they were taken from a 100-year-old recipe book – which they are. Nevertheless, in a world of colorful cakes and extravagant cupcakes, these complex traditional sweets risk being lost forever. Once upon a time not long ago, colorful displays of stalls selling dulces regionales adorned almost every corner and plaza in the Historic Center, but nowadays, at least in the city, the former glory of these treats has started to fade. The current sources for Oaxacan regional sweets is down to just a few makers taking private orders, a couple of stalls in the Benito Juarez market, and a dozen street vendors in the city’s most touristic areas.

Las Chiquihuitas is a relative newcomer to Oaxaca’s organics scene that celebrates its two-year anniversary this month. A tiny sliver of a corner store located right smack-dab in the city’s historic center, the shop manages to pack a surprising amount of organic, local and lovingly produced foods within the diminutive confines of its four walls. A quick examination of Chiquihuitas’ lone refrigerator turns up a candy-colored array of seasonally flavored kombuchas and ginger beers stacked above a selection of buffalo milk butter and cheeses sourced from the Oaxacan coast, plus chunky glass jars of ferments ranging from classic sauerkraut to spicy kimchi. The store’s selection of dry goods might include shiny black beans, sticky, dark-brown blocks of the unprocessed sugar known as panela and jugs of fragrant virgin coconut oil. Happily, there’s a robust lineup of fresh produce, too, with juicy tomatoes, spiky pineapples and nubby potatoes peeking out of the black plastic crates dominating one of the store’s shelving units.

As he drove us to Tlacolula, some 19 miles east of Oaxaca City, in his burgundy-and-white taxi, salsa music in the background and a tiny bronze cross hanging from his rearview mirror, our driver Félix was philosophizing about migration. Like many other Oaxacan men, he had, at one point, crossed the border from Mexico to California in search of a better life. And like many fellow countrymen, he had come back home because he refused to live a life of persecution and uncertainty due to his legal status as an undocumented immigrant. His life back in Mexico was good; hard, yes, but joyful. “I can eat fresh fruits, dance with my kids, watch them grow. If this is not quality of life, I don’t know what it is,” he reflects. The music stops and so does Félix’s taxi. In the middle of the Tlacolula highway we’ve arrived at one of the area’s largest gas stations, and our destination.