Alfonsina

When Alfonsina opened in 2018 in the family home of chef Jorge León and his mom Doña Elvia, it had all the ingredients of an underground indie hit: no website, no menu, and a Google Maps-defying address in the suburb of San Juan Batista La Raya near the airport. Once your taxi driver finally did find it, you were ushered into a family compound where chickens squawked, dogs roamed, and family members lounged around in their hammocks.

Alfonsina has since been discovered by international gastronauts, but it has lost none of its magic. A veteran of such haute-Mexican spots as Pujol in Mexico City and Cosme in New York, León explores Oaxaca’s complex terroir in his ultra-locavore tasting menus served al fresco or in the dining room repurposed from a family storage shed. His fish and vegetable-forward dishes are inspired by daily jaunts to the massive Abastos market and by his relationships with local sustainable farmers and fishermen.

Your meal might begin with a creamy soup of white heirloom beans topped with grilled wild mushrooms; progress to a yuca tamal filled with yellow mole, purslane, and squash; and follow up, perhaps, with plump camarones de Isla nestled on a purée of plantains roasted in ash and served under a tangle of watercress dressed with guajillo oil.

But León would be the first to admit that his mom and co-chef, Doña Elvia, is the soul of the restaurant. One of six children, she grew up in the Mixtecan hamlet of Santo Domingo Nundo, struggling to support her family after the death of her mom, Alfonsina. Before she and León opened their restaurant, she ran a popular takeout from this house supplying gas stations and airport workers with chilaquiles and tasajo (cured beef) with beans.

That traditional neighborhood spirit still thrives here in the mornings during Dona Evia’s copious breakfasts featuring enchiladas bathed in a fruity-spicy red mole, or entomatadas, tortillas stacked like pancakes and soaked in rich tomatoey juices. What does Doña Evia think of her son’s cooking? “It’s muy nuestro, very ‘ours,’” she says. “Just a little more clever.”