Café de Tacuba is one of the oldest restaurants in Mexico City and has become a shrine for the culinary traditions of the country.
Café de Tacuba is a portal. Enter the bustling street of Calle Tacuba in the historic district of Mexico City, where shops crowd together and traffic colors the awnings. Step through the brightly tinted double doors of the restaurant and prepare to immerse yourself in Mexico’s colonial past. Inside Café de Tacuba, little has changed since its opening in 1912.
The restaurant is located in a former monastery and is one of the oldest restaurants in the largest city in North America. In fact, the street where the restaurant is located – Calle de Tacuba – is said to be the city’s first street. Entering the dining room of Café de Tacuba means following in the footsteps of Diego Rivera, Mexican presidents, and local rock stars.
However, don’t expect smiling photos of famous guests on the walls. The restaurant’s decoration is a homage to Mexican craftsmanship. Brass chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, colonial artworks adorn every wall, and Talavera – a ceramic art native to Puebla and Tlaxcala – embellishes stairs, corridors, and the dining room. (Similar to champagne, ceramics can only bear the name Talavera if they come from these states.) Mariachis stroll through the dining room at all times of the day, serenading the guests.
“We wanted a decoration that is durable, beautiful, and showcases Mexico’s talent,” says Juan Pablo Ballesteros, the great-grandson of Dionisio Mollinedo Hernández, who first opened the 20th-century concept, intertwining the country’s indigenous roots with colonial rule.
This ethic is also reflected in the menu. The restaurant is rich in corn-based dishes – an indigenous ingredient that survived Spain’s 300-year rule. Cornmeal is used in tamales, atole, and enchiladas. Before ordering, take note of the warning on the menu: you should expect a wait of 20 to 30 minutes for your food. Why? Because the kitchen uses authentic recipes from decades past; it takes time.
“The recipes used here have not changed for 50 to 60 years,” says Ballesteros. “It’s like diving into someone’s memories, or even your own. Entering here means entering the golden years of Mexico City.”
Ballesteros attributes the restaurant’s longevity to its commitment to consistency. According to him, this is why multiple generations of families keep coming back: they know what to expect. Some want to relive memories. While many restaurateurs strive to stay relevant, Café de Tacuba does not. New menu items are almost never added. If they are, they are offered as specialties, not permanent options.
“Many of Mexico’s recipes were made in churches and convents,” says Ballesteros. “By Mayora nuns.” Centuries ago, these nuns were tasked with feeding groups of people. They learned to prepare mass meals, focusing on taste rather than technique.
“They’re not trained chefs,” says Ballesteros. “They cook out of devotion to the people and to serve God. They make what’s tasty.” Mayora – similar to chef – is a nickname used to describe someone falling into this category. And it’s these women who lead Café de Tacuba’s kitchen.
There is no Mayora school; knowledge and training are passed down from one generation to the next. Today, the restaurant employs Patricia Trejo Lozano – a third-generation Mayora – to run the operation. When and if the time comes to replace her, the family will select from their own kitchen.
From the start, the restaurant has committed to using only products from the country. They source them from neighboring cities or other states like Puebla, Hidalgo, and Oaxaca. The intention is to spotlight Mexican cuisine and allow the restaurant to thrive amid growing interest in (and appreciation for) its food.
Instead of adopting fashionable techniques or culinary trends, Ballesteros and his family hope to show customers the world through their eyes. This has brought Café de Tacuba decades ahead of the gastronomic boom around Mexican cuisine and furthered its success. Interest in mezcal, insects, and older pre-Hispanic recipes like champurrado may seem relatively new, but for the restaurant’s cuisine, these are staples on which the staff grew up. Rather than minimizing their indigenous roots, ownership puts them in the spotlight.
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