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.

It’s a cold December afternoon when we arrive at the headquarters of Tamales de Tia Tila in San Gabriel Etla, about 45 minutes outside of Oaxaca City. Knocking on the door, we catch a whiff of spices and corn that the cold wind quickly steals away. But as soon the door swings open, revealing a family with faces half-covered in masks and hands busy at work, waves of warm, fragrant air envelope us. The tamal workshop is brimming: a man is moving stews, a woman pressing dough, an older woman laying corn husks and banana leaves on one of the many tables. Everyone’s movements are so precise and focused that we feel guilty for intruding. But that feeling fades away when a young girl waves us in and brings over a cup of hot coffee.

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.