For as long as I can remember, I have loved mornings, a preference that likely – perhaps counterintuitively – originates from my experience working bright and early at my parents’ fonda. Almost every day, we would arrive around 7 a.m. to prepare the day’s menu, slicing vegetables for salsas, putting together moles, boiling chicken and arranging everything necessary for the daily rush of customers. The warmth and aromas rising from the large clay pots filled the air and never failed to make my mouth water. It was a scene that had been repeating itself since my grandfather bought our fonda back in the early 1960s.