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 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.

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.

Culinarily speaking, 2023 was irreverent and loud. It tasted like salty melted cheese, fried beef, hot sauces, sour lime-flavored water, tropical fruits, and beer – lots of hoppy beer. While Oaxaca’s top restaurants kept it classy and stylish, the groovy craft beer bars, as well as the buzzing market and street food stalls told a frantic story of crowded seats, euphoric clients and scrumptious food and drinks. This year’s Best Bites include recipes, dishes or drinks that proved to us there are no limits or assigned spaces for gastronomic evolution. In the realm of food, true culinary art knows no distinction and no matter where they come from, flavors will be flavors.

Driving east from Oaxaca City, Mexico, into Santiago Matatlán – the town of about ten thousand souls that’s known as the “World Capital of Mezcal” – one’s vista is suddenly dominated by the color green. Across the landscape of gently rolling hills, enormous patchworks of planted agave fields supply the eye with an entire spectrum of verdure, from sage to emerald to jade. The large, spiky magueys, as they’re also called, are everywhere you look, their dusty shades contrasting with the brighter green of the grasses and cacti also dotting the region’s slopes. But we’re not here for mezcal. Instead, different agave beverages are on the menu today: fresh aguamiel and lightly fermented pulque, harvested daily on this land by fifth-generation owner Reina Luisa Cortés Cortés of A&V La Casa del Pulque.

Throughout Mexico, both foods and drinks are centered around corn, a tendency that’s most evident in Mexico’s wide variety of antojitos, or “little cravings,” small, portable snacks featuring some variation on the corn tortilla – of which the taco is undoubtedly the most well-known globally – antojitos are one of the joys of Mexican cuisine, and vary impressively across the country’s 32 states. In the southwestern state of Oaxaca, there’s no shortage of delicious antojitos – at breakfast, soft, steaming tamales wrapped in the region’s abundant banana leaves are the name of the game, while night owls have ample opportunity to crunch into a tlayuda, a giant tortilla folded over lots of shredded, mozzarella-like quesillo cheese, then griddled over hot coals until crispy on the outside and molten on the inside.

One of the most powerful and restorative culinary combos enjoyed in Mexico is, without a doubt, seafood and micheladas, delicious concoctions made with beer – usually lager – and a mix of sauces, lime and spices, which can go from zero to quite spicy. A michelada is one of those drinks that it is often judged a priori but loved after the first or second taste. The mix of a light beer and the power of spices create a wonderful balance that, when served with fresh seafood, can refresh and restore us on a hot summer afternoon or after a long night out. During weekends, it is very common to see groups of people looking for seafood and beer menus all over Mexican cities.

Traveling through Oaxaca, the impact of the mezcal boom is evident. In Oaxaca City, mezcalerias can now be found on almost every corner, while in the countryside rows and rows of freshly planted agave can be seen in fields that had previously been devoted to other crops. What’s harder to discern is the worrying impact this boom is having on Oaxacan agriculture and the local ecosystem. This past May, Real Minero and the descendants of Lorenzo Ángeles Mendoza, the brand’s founder, took an important step toward addressing this issue by inaugurating the first agave seed bank in Mexico, which they hope will help maintain both the agave plant’s diversity as well as help to preserve ancient farming methods.

It’s around noon on a Wednesday in Oaxaca, and we’re standing next to a huge, firewood-powered comal, that traditional Mexican clay griddle used to toast corn and cacao, blister tomatoes for salsa, melt stringy quesillo cheese inside the corn tortilla layers of a quesadilla, and so much more. Today, however, none of these more quotidian ingredients takes center stage on the blazing-hot, earthen red comal: Instead, Micaela Ruiz Martinez, 50, uses a small straw brush to sweep ants over the griddle’s surface, the insects dark, round rear ends resembling oversized black peppercorns. As a slightly herbal, slightly fruity aroma begins to waft up from the comal, Martinez, chef and owner of the bright, homey restaurant Luz de Luna (“Moonlight”), comments, “Chicatanas have a really unique flavor. There’s really nothing else like it.”

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.

It’s not yet 11 a.m. on a May morning in Oaxaca City – typically the hottest month in this midsized capital of the southwest Mexican state – and the day is already fixing to be a scorcher. At this moment, we’re padding the streets of Oaxaca’s bustling downtown market district, and we can feel the heat radiating off the cement below our feet. Deciding the morning’s errands will have to be put on pause, we duck into one of the main entrances to the famed Benito Juárez market, where we know we’ll find Valentina and a big, brimming jícara – a hollowed-out gourd used as a no-waste drinking vessel – of tejate. We navigate past little stalls where vendors hawk such varied items as big, knotted balls of the milky, melty cow’s cheese known as quesillo; sweet, yeasty pan dulce sprinkled with colored granulated sugar; and big, round tortillas in two styles: soft and pliable (blandas) and crispy and crunchy (tlayudas).