I’ll Be Back.

There was a satisfying crunch, followed by the freshness of the tomatoes and toppings, and then that savory, almost creamy combination that made me immediately want another bite. The flavors didn’t compete; they worked together. Of the three tacos I tried, the Baja fish taco stood out the most. The shrimp and smoked kanpachi were delicious in their own right, but that fish taco had me thinking, Okay…now THIS is why people stand in that line. Absolutely in love.

Peace, my name is Raquel Bell. My taste buds are African American, home-cooked-Sunday-after-church-bread-type taste buds with the consciousness of a Northern Californian. I grew up in Arcata, CA, a beautiful, luscious green town where farmers’ markets and Whole Foods are part of the culture. I was raised by a Southern Belle mother and a Midwest grill-master father, so food was always tied to family, love, and memory. My belly was happy, and my childhood was even happier.

If there were a dish in my culture that could resemble the Mexican tamal, I would choose fried chicken. As an African American, soul food is deeply connected to our history. In the Deep South, fried foods, sugar, and lard became unwanted staples under circumstances shaped by slavery where we were intentionally denied healthy food. Yet food also became a way to create community, celebration, and identity. Fried chicken represents that contradiction: a painful history transformed into something comforting and communal that we must rethink our relationship to for our health.

That understanding of food and identity followed me to Los Angeles, where I visited Holbox, tucked inside Mercado La Paloma. Dr. Portnoy describes a Los Angeles where there are “areas that lack supermarkets, but abound in fast-food restaurants and liquor stores” (Portnoy, 120). Mercado La Paloma offers a different kind of space—a vibrant food marketplace where people can gather around culturally rooted food. Located in South Central Los Angeles, it feels intentional that the food is not just something to consume here, but a way of creating community.

Mercado was HUGE and vibrant, filled with Mexican food, families, locals, college students, and visitors. As I looked at the menu I had no idea where to start until a Holbox manager came over and asked if I needed help.

“Yes!” I said. “This is my first time here, and I don’t know where to start…help!”

He pointed me toward the Baja fish taco. Say less.

I ordered the Baja shrimp, smoked kanpachi, and Baja fish tacos. When they arrived, I had to pause. The tortillas were a beautiful eggplant color, topped with bright red tomatoes and fresh ingredients. My dad was on FaceTime when I showed him the tacos, and his first word was “Art.” Honestly, I couldn’t disagree.

The shrimp was tender with a light crispness, while the fresh toppings balanced its richness. The smoked kanpachi was delicate, buttery, and deeper in flavor, with a smokiness that lingered. Then came the Baja fish taco. Crispy outside, tender and flaky inside—the textures and flavors came together perfectly.

That experience made me think about Mexican food in America. In the New York Times article, “The Golden Age of Mexican Food Is Here. And It’s Complicated,” it reads, “Mexican food in America today is a dynamic cuisine all its own, created by Mexicans and Mexican Americans apart from Mexico—and as American as any food.” Holbox reflects that idea; Mexican food rooted in tradition while existing within the distinctly Los Angeles landscape.

And just when I thought I was done, a magnificent dish caught my eye. I stopped the server.

“What is THAT?”

He pointed toward Al Pastor.

Oh.

Okay.

I’ll be back.

Baja Fish (left) and Baja Shrimp Taco (right).

Smoked Kanpachi Taco.

Works Cited

Esparza, Bill, and Brett Anderson. “The Golden Age of Mexican Food Is Here. And It’s Complicated.” The New York Times, 13 Aug. 2026.

Portnoy, Sarah. Food, Health, and Culture in Latino Los Angeles. Rowman & Littlefield, 2016.

Tasting Home Away From Home

By: Miguel Leon

“Mijo, ¿qué quieres que te haga de comer?”

“Son, what do you want me to make you to eat?”

These are the words that I would always love to hear from my mother after a long day of school. The food my family and I would eat, for the most part, was whatever my mom had made and thought was beneficial for us and our nutrition. But now and then, when my mother felt as if my siblings and I were feeling down, or even as a gesture of her love, she would let us choose what we wanted to eat. My personal favorite dish of hers that I would, without fail, ask her to make was tinga de pollo. 

Imagine it. You walk into your home with a telenovela on the living room TV at full volume, but still muffled by the sounds of the kitchen, with all the cooking noises my mother would produce while making the tinga. Then, a hit of chipotle and adobo fills your nose with the acidic smells of the tomato and tomatillo as they turn dark orange like a sunset on the beach. You see the bowl of shredded chicken in front of you, and you can’t help but take a piece. It isn’t the most flavorful, but you know the softness and chewiness of the chicken will blend harmoniously with the sauce that is being made for the tinga. You prepare your tinga with the tostada, shredded lettuce, queso fresco, and the crema. I would always put way too much, to the point where, after that first initial crack of the tostada when I took a bite, the whole tostada would split into multiple pieces, leaving me with chipotle sauce running through my hand. But the smoky, spicy flavor mixed with the savory cheese and crema makes the mess worth it. 

For me, back then it was just dinner. As a kid, I never really took into consideration why this meal made me happy, or why my mom asking the question to begin with made my heart so full. Now, living as an adult here in California, hours away from all of my family, I see these meals with my family with more meaning. “The acts of feeding and caring, as connected as earth to water, maintain and sustain the family” (Stimpson , Zhen 71). The care that comes with feeding someone allows me to understand the depth of what food can do for the emotional state of a person.

Tacos El Venado right outside USC Ralphs

I was able to find that same care at the taco spot I chose called “Tacos El Venado,” which is located just outside of the Ralphs by USC. I had gone late at night with a group of my friends. It had been raining, so the smell of rain and the wet reflected bright lights felt very cozy to us. Behind the counter, we saw the workers chopping up the meat with a constant screen of smoke from the meat cooking on the grill. 

What I valued most was my conversation with one of the workers, Margarita. She was incredibly welcoming to my friends and me as soon as we got there, even though we showed up during late hours of the night; she never made it seem like it was a bother. The way she spoke so softly and kindly to us really reminded me of my own mom. She even made a comment about the fact that all of us knew how to speak Spanish, “es bueno saber que hay jóvenes como ustedes que no se han olvidado como hablar español, echale muchas ganas en la escuela.” Knowing that everyone was speaking together made this experience more natural, like I was back home eating with my family again. 

In Fabio Parasecoli’s “Food and Identity,” he begins to describe how the market in Rome that he goes to after years of not going “never fails: after so many years of living elsewhere, it still feels like home” (75). He dives into the fact that cooking things and experiencing familiarity reassures us of our identity, which is exactly what I have been searching for since I left my family for college. Pieces of my home were everywhere, from the Spanish to the loud cooking noises and conversations; everything reminded me of those dinners I’d have.

The food only added to that factor. I ordered 3 tacos de al pastor and took 2 back home with me. The tortilla was made by hand, and it was so soft and warm, like a warm blanket wrapped around your tongue. The meat was incredibly juicy as well, with some of it dripping down onto the plate and my chin as well. Everything about the tacos showed love and a story of these people working tirelessly every day to share that sense of identity and familiarity to those like me that are in need of it. 

I left the food stand thinking how weird it was that two completely different dishes can instill a feeling so familiar to me. That sense of home isn’t always a singular spot or place; rather, it is a feeling that shows love and care in the expression of food. 

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Work Cited

• Parasecoli, Fabio. Gastronativism: Food, Identity, Politics. Columbia University, 2022
• Zhen, Willa. Food Studies: A Hands-On Guide. Bloomsbury Academic, 2019
  
  

The food that represents my family& LA Taco

Not Quite Texas BBQ (by Carrie H)

Before my dad’s BBQ is ready, I can smell it from inside the house. The applewood smoke stays in the backyard for hours, mixed with garlic and spices, while I keep asking him when the brisket is finally going to be done. When he cuts into it, the outside is dark and smoky, but the inside is really tender. Then there is the flavor that makes his BBQ different: Sichuan pepper. It leaves this slightly spicy and numbing feeling on my tongue that I definitely would not expect from traditional Texas BBQ.

My dad’s from Shanghai and immigrated to the United States. When we lived in Texas he fell in love with their brisket and invented his own, adding Sichuan pepper, garlic, and his secret seasoning that I still don’t know.

His BBQ made me think about Pilcher’s argument that “the making of a Mexican national cuisine was a long and contentious process” (2). Before reading Pilcher, I thought of cuisines as traditions that had basically always existed. His discussion of mestizo cuisine showed me that food traditions can develop through cultural mixing. Although my dad’s BBQ isn’t Mexican or mestizo cuisine, the concept helped me understand how mixing traditions can create fascinating results. 

It also connects to Zhen’s concept of commensality, which she describes as eating and sharing food together and says can “strengthen social bonds and create unity” (Zhen 62). We usually have my dad’s BBQ during weekends or family gatherings, and he’ll spend the whole afternoon making his brisket. The smell of smoke lingers around the house for hours, and I think I started associating that smell with home. His brisket also carries parts of both cultures I grew up with, which is why something as simple as BBQ feels so personal to me.

Tijuana After Midnight

At midnight on a Friday, Beverly Hills was quiet, but Tacos 1986 was still glowing red and serving handmade tortillas off the grill. The restaurant represents Baja California, specifically the street-taco tradition of Tijuana.

I ordered 2 asada tacos on a handmade corn tortilla without salsa. The taco was layered with sliced beef, fresh onion, cilantro, and mashed avocado. They were extremely generous with the protein, but the beef did not overpower everything else. It had a deep, smoky flavor from the grill, while the onion added a sharp, slightly spicy bite that brought out the savoriness of the meat. Even without salsa, there were still a lot of flavors happening all at once in my mouth after that first bite. 

The restaurant itself was pretty chill. I saw a father eating with his son, along with a large group of college aged friends. Since the Beverly Hills location is a short drive from UCLA, it makes sense that students would come here together, especially late at night. The crowd showed how tacos can connect different generations while also becoming part of young people’s lives in Los Angeles.

I also think the food passes the authenticity test. I went with my friend whose family’s from Tijuana, and she said the taco looked like something her mom would make at home. More importantly, Tacos 1986 does not hide where its food comes from. In the past, some Mexican restaurants used words like “Spanish” to make their food sound more European and acceptable to Americans. Tacos 1986 does the opposite. Its food voice is proud: this is Tijuana food, and it does not need to change to belong in Los Angeles. Its many locations and huge Instagram following of 70.9K show that this cuisine is not only accepted, but genuinely celebrated.

Works Cited

Pilcher, Jeffrey M. ¡Que Vivan los Tamales! Food and the Making of Mexican Identity. University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Zhen, Willa. Food Studies: A Hands-On Guide. Bloomsbury Academic, 2019.

My Food Identity and LA Taco

Eva Yassine

Growing up on the outskirts of Los Angeles County, I was exposed to many different ethnicities and cultural cuisines. Southern California’s diverse culinary culture has always been one of my favorite parts of living here. My roots trace back to the Middle East; both of my parents are immigrants from southern Lebanon. One way we connect back to our home is through a Levantine culinary staple: fattoush.

Everyone has had salad before, but in Lebanese culture, it’s a staple of our food tradition. Fattoush is a delicious, juicy, and sour Levantine salad eaten as a side with every Lebanese meal. Fattoush consists of fresh chopped vegetables such as lettuce, tomatoes, Persian cucumbers, and radishes, and pita chips. These vegetables make every bite crunchy and fresh. The dressing is the star of the show. It’s a mixture of olive oil, freshly squeezed lemon juice, and salt. The dressing is what gives the salad its overall sour flavor, allowing the side dish to perfectly complement any savory Lebanese dish.

Lebanon is filled with olive trees, which is why most of our food incorporates olive oil. In Lebanon, olive trees are not just on farms but also on the side of the road or even in backyards. The olive oil touch in fattoush is a perfect way to incorporate the roots of our homeland. Author Jefferey Pilcher touches on this idea by writing, “The dinner table also became a battlefield as the wheat bread of Spanish bakers challenged the corn tamales of native women for inclusion in the Mexican national cuisine” (Pilcher 1). Lebanese people continue to incorporate vegetables into our cuisine that our people have been farming for centuries. We push back against European ideals of salad and stick to our sour salad instead of topping it with a sweet or creamy dressing. 

Beyond connecting with my homeland, fattoush brings back childhood memories. It reminds me of my childhood and picking who got to drink the leftover sour dressing from the bottom of the salad bowl. Almost every time it was my little sister, all because I wanted to make her happy.

Villa’s Tacos

As mentioned above, I love exploring the diversity of Los Angeles cuisine. Within my first couple of months as a student at USC, my friends and I visited Grand Central Market. On our way out, I noticed Villa’s Tacos, and it has been on my bucket list ever since. When exploring a taqueria for this assignment, I knew exactly where I needed to go. I visited Villa’s Tacos in the Grand Central Market. This taqueria consists of Mexican tacos adapted to Los Angeles food culture. The Villa’s Tacos logo resembles the Los Angeles Dodgers logo, but with a taco.

The cuisine has Mexican origins and tells so much about the owner. In Chapter Three of “Food, Identity, and Culture,” the author states, “Food and beverages can be coded with messages about who one is, where they’re from, their gender, and other aspects of one’s identity” (Zhen 61). The tacos at Villa’s Tacos are coded with history and tell the story of the owner. The owner was born to Mexican immigrants, and his cooking comes from his grandma’s influence and culinary teachings. In fact, Villa’s Tacos operated out of his grandmother’s backyard before moving to actual locations! His grandmothers culinary influence is most evident in Villa’s Tacos homemade, secret family-recipe salsas. All the taco tortillas are handmade blue corn tortillas that are pressed to order. The blue corn tortillas show the deep roots of corn in Mexican cuisine, because corn has been a fundamental part of Mexican culinary tradition for centuries and is still an integral ingredient today.

Villa’s Tacos is located in the middle of Grand Central Market. The market is a very casual place. It was crowded with excited guests trying different cuisines and noisy with their bubbling conversations. Most people eating at Villa’s Tacos were matching the taqueria’s logo, wearing Dodgers jerseys and apparel. Each restaurant at Grand Central Market is a grab-and-go stand. When ready to eat, guests have to find an available metal table and chairs somewhere in the market. Luckily, my friend and I found one right by Villa’s Tacos as we were about to order.

I ordered three different tacos from Villa’s Tacos. I ordered a pierna de pollo taco (chicken leg meat), ranchera asada taco (beef flap steak), and frijoles con nopal taco (black beans and cactus). All the tacos are served on a blue corn tortilla and topped with guacamole and fresh chopped onions and cilantro. They were also served with a lime, which I squeezed over all three tacos. The tortilla was very fluffy and fresh. The blue corn flavor was rich and perfectly pervasive in every bite.

Asada Taco Left; Chicken Taco Right

Black Bean & Cactus Taco

The chicken taco was probably my favorite. The chicken was grilled to perfection. The charbroil flavor pervaded my mouth. The asada taco was also prepared to perfection. The asada meat was very soft and tender; it melted in my mouth. When I bit into the taco, savory juices flooded my mouth. The black bean and cactus taco was something new. It differed from the other two tacos because it was very crunchy and sour rather than soft and savory. This taco was topped with pico de gallo, along with the other toppings. After many bites and picking the taco apart, I realized the cactus was what gave the taco its sour flavor.

There are so many connections to traditional Mexican cuisine in these tacos. The fusion of these traditions with Los Angeles culture is so beautiful. The guacamole on top of the tacos fuses Los Angeles food culture. Avocados have become a popular part of LA food culture, and while traditional tacos don’t include guacamole, the addition on Villa’s Tacos adds a perfect LA touch. You can also see the Los Angeles culture fusion in the taqueria’s logo. Incorporating a taco into the Los Angeles Dodgers logo is the perfect fusion between the two cultures because the Dodgers are an important part of Los Angeles culture, just as tacos are in Mexican culture.

I admire the fusion of Mexican cuisine and Los Angeles culture that Villa’s Tacos brings to the table. It’s the type of fusion that my family brings to our home dining table every night. We stay true to our roots through fattoush but have also adapted it to Los Angeles culture. I loved this experience, and I cannot wait to learn more.

Works Cited

Pilcher, Jeffrey M. ¡Que vivan los tamales!: Food and the Making of Mexican Identity. University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Zhen, Willa. Food Studies: A Hands-On Guide. 1st ed., Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2019.

A Taste of My Roots: Ceviche, Tacos, and Family

By Samantha Esquer

For me, the taste of Ceviche is the taste of summer, family, and Sonora. Ceviche is a popular dish in Mexico and other parts of Latin America, but for me, it has a much more personal connection to my family and our roots in Sonora, Mexico. The essential ingredients include: can be shrimp, scallops or fish(depending on your preference), cucumber, tomato, diced purple onion, cilantro, chile serrano and lemon juice. The spices/condiments that this dish requires are: salt, pepper, garlic salt. Some variations include adding celery, mango, oregano, and the chips tostitos or hot cheetos. People usually eat ceviche with tostadas or tortilla chips. I eat ceviche the most during the summer or when the weather is hotter since it is a refreshing food. However, I still eat it at least once or twice a month throughout the year. 

Ceviche is also an important part of my food identity because of the memories and relationship I associate with it. My mom is the person who prepares it for me, but seafood is also an important part of my extended family’s life because they prepare different types of ceviche daily at their family-owned pescaderia market/restaurant called Pescaderia Mar De Cortez #2 in the city of La Puente. Some of my favorite memories are of my family making ceviche and bringing it with us to eat at the beach. It reminds me of Sonora, Mexico, where my parents are from and where seafood is a major part of the local food culture. Parasecoli writes that foods can “ tell stories that are personal and emotional for me and for those I cook for or eat with”(75). I personally relate to this idea because ceviche tells a story about where my family comes from and how it has bonded us closer. Whenever I visit Sonora, especially on a scorching day when the temperature climbs above 100 degrees, I crave a homemade ceviche prepared in el pueblo. Making it a group effort: two of us peel the shrimp, another person chops it, someone else cuts the vegetables, and everyone contributes in some way. For me, commensality is an opportunity to share food with my loved ones, and when we eat ceviche, it brings my family closer together.

Taqueria Vista Hermosa 

As a 21-year-old Mexican and La native, I was shocked to realize that I had never tried a taqueria near USC during my almost four years there. For this assignment, I was inspired to visit Mercado la Paloma, a cultural hub with several small restaurants and stands– for Taco Tuesday. Inside, I was drawn to Taqueria Vista Hermosa, which specializes in cuisine from Michoacan, Mexico. 

The artistic presentation of its tacos immediately caught my attention. The restaurant is especially known for an al pastor adobo recipe from Vista Hermosa, owner Raul Morales’s hometown in Michoacan. Upon entering el Mercado, I was struck by its colorful and decorative interior. The inviting and nostalgic atmosphere felt like home. Around me were likely USC students, local residents, and members of the Mexican and Latino communities.

I was so indecisive while looking at the menu that I ordered three different tacos. The first was their famous specialty, which was al pastor, marinated pork meat cooked in an open flame rotating broiler. The second was asada, a lightly seasoned, juicy beef steak on the grill, Mexican style. The third was a baja-style breaded shrimp taco. All three tacos were served on hand-made corn tortillas and topped with freshly minced cilantro, onion, shredded cheese, and salsa. The dish also included a serrano pepper,grilled green onion, sliced radishes, carrots, and lemons. My first impression of these tacos was the thickness of the tortillas, which held the meat and toppings together well. My favorite was the baja-style shrimp taco due to its crunchy texture, and flavorful orange salsa.

These dishes are a representation of Michoacan’s  cuisine. On its website, Taqueria Vista Hermosa states that it is “proud to serve Authentic Mexican Food featuring their specialty, TACOS AL PASTOR.” Morales learned his adobo recipe from his uncle in Michoacan.The recipe includes five different chiles and four sources of acidity, however he has only revealed two: grapefruit and pineapple. According to Cesar Hernandez in “18 Years of Al Pastor At Taqueria Vista Hermosa”, Morales’s trompo (spit) differs from most trompos because it contains several metal panels that slowly radiate heat and cook the meat. Hernandez notes that this technique resembles cooking methods used in Mediterranean restaurants. Alba explains that cuisines are “in a constant state of change, always in the process of adapting and becoming,” challenging the idea that authentic food must follow one unchanging recipe. Morales demonstrates this concept by preserving his family’s Michoacan-style adobo while adding his own distinctive ingredient:sugar. As Morales explains, “Your al pastor recipe is a personalized stamp reflecting your identity.” His tacos show that cultural authenticity can include both family traditions and personal creativity. 

Taqueria Vista Hermosa is represented on Instagram @taqueriavistahermosa, where they post their famously delicious dishes. Also- if you leave a review on google review, you get a free side of chips and salsa! I 100% recommend you all try this taqueria if you haven’t already. I will definitely be going back and trying different dishes!

Works Cited:

Albala, Ken. Three World Cuisines: Italian, Mexican, Chinese. AltaMira Press, 2012.

Hernandez, Cesar. “18 Years of Al Pastor at Taqueria Vista Hermosa.” LAist, 24 Dec. 2019, https://laist.com/news/food/taqueria-vista-hermosa-raul-morales-mercado-la-paloma-history. Accessed 16 Sept. 2026.

Parasecoli, Fabio. “Food and Identity.” Gastronativism: Food, Identity, Politics, Columbia University Press, 2022

“Taqueria Vista Hermosa—Al Pastor.” Taqueria Vista Hermosa, https://taqueriavistahermosa.com/.

How would you invent food?

By Ian Qi

Do you remember the last dish you ate that was red? Not orange, not light brown, but dark, cherry red. Maybe not recently, but for the Chinese community, the red braised pork belly is a staple that almost everyone has had. The dish consists of pork belly, but the marinating ingredient is the star, consisting of soy sauce, rice wine, sugar and spices to create a sweet, but also aromatic flavor to an otherwise tender but also chewy meat. This dish is typically prepared by my mom, though pretty much anyone in the family has come to learn to make it. We’d always make huge portions of this dish and share it around the whole table, and I guarantee it’d always be the first plate to be cleaned out. It symbolically represents Chinese food culture and commensality best, as it is simply not a dish you prepare and eat by yourself. The dish itself signals a grand occasion, maybe new years or someone’s birthday, and it transcends beyond the ordinary dinner dish to bring something greater than ourselves to the table. It is best complemented by a bowl of white rice, since the heavy sauces of the dish need to be counteracted by a blander medium that is rice. This dish is one of the most iconic ones from Chinese cuisine, and is quite representative and all encompassing of Chinese cooking techniques, as we heavily prioritize bringing out the best of mixing all sorts of flavoring, and how they best compliment each other. The taqueria I would visit would remind me of similar cooking philosophies reminiscent of my own culture. 

Saucy Chick Indi-Mex Eatery 

Even though I admittedly don’t know too much about both Mexican and Indian culture, one thing I am sure of is that they both have some of the best food on this planet. So what do you get when you combine both? Saucy Chick Indi-mex Eatery. This restaurant, rated by the LA Times to have one of the best tacos in the city did not disappoint. As I looked into its mission, it highlighted its emphasis on hospitality, famed in both Mexican and Indian cultures, and it sought to bring them both together. The recipes, which are a century old and passed within the family of the owners, hail from Jalisco. Jalisco birria tacos, which emphasize slow-cooked, meat stew from selections like goat, lamb, or beef were the best sellers here, and since I had never tried a lambo taco, that’s what I ordered. I was recommended the Birria Queso Taco, the one specifically named one of the best tacos by LA times. Yet I knew that wasn’t going to be enough, so I ordered two more, one smoked lamb kashmiri barbacoa and an amchur steak asada. The words Kashmiri and Amchur, stood out as well, which is why I ordered them, and that curiosity led to one great pleasant surprise of culinary delight. As expected, both ingredients were of Indian cuisine, where kashmiri is a chili powder made from mild dried pepper, and the amchur is a spice powder made from dried, unripe mangoes. Both added to the taco a tangy, sour punch to the flavor profile that isn’t often tasted in tacos, and they both elevated my experience so much. The ingredients of a traditional taco were all present: corn tortilla, salsa, beans, cilantro, etc, but what I loved most was the meat itself. A slow-cooked, stewed meat in a taco was naturally going to be juicy and extremely tender, and that sauce blended with the ingredients and the taco perfectly, as  no part of the taco overtook another. A good Mexican taco done well combined with a perfect mixture of Indian spice that complimented the taste made for one of the best bites I’ve had in a long time. This innovation and experimentation reminded me of Fabio Parasecoli’s article, Food and Identity, where he says “Tradition can be invented…they frequently build on the nostalgia for good old days that may have never existed” (Parasecoli, 82). This stood out because this taqueria I visited is actively in the process of inventing and innovating tradition. The way they perfectly blend together the best of two culinary cultures brings previously unimaginable possibilities to food culture. If Mexican and Indian food, two giants in the food scene can mix this well, who knows what other unexplored combinations are the next thing? 

Works Cited

Zhen, Willa. Food Studies: A Hands-On Guide. Bloomsbury Academic, 2019

Parasecoli, Fabio. Gastronativism: Food, Identity, Politics. Columbia University, 2022

Two Cultures, One Table by Elizabeth

The smell of warm masa and chile in the kitchen signals that Christmas is around the corner. I’m a first generation Mexican-Colombian. My mother is from Acapulco, Guerrero, Mexico and my father is from Bogota, Colombia. I was raised with traditions from both sides of the family, as well as my Catholic faith that brought both cultures together. As a result, my food identity is not limited to a single country or background. It resides somewhere in between Mexican tamales, Colombian arepas and empanadas, Catholic traditions, and my upbringing in Los Angeles.

Tamales can have a variety of fillings and regional variants, but the ones I associate with my family are made with soft corn masa, seasoned beef, and chili sauce, wrapped, and steamed. They are warm, flavorful, and soothing, but their significance goes far beyond taste. We eat tamales mainly around Christmas, frequently with capirotada, a Mexican bread pudding associated with religious celebrations. According to Jefferey Pilcher, tamales were prominent in Mexico even before the modern nation emerged. He says they “held pride of place in pre-Columbian banquets” before becoming “icons of the Mexican nation” (Pilcher 1). This history explains why tamales are personal and communal. My family continues a centuries-old Mexican Christmas tradition by eating them. Pilcher adds that Indigenous corn practices and European influences shaped Mexican gastronomy following colonialism. Tamales represent continuity and change. Their corn-based core preserves Indigenous history, but their fillings, preparation methods, and holiday linkages indicate food traditions evolve.

Fabio Parasocli’s explanation of food and identity helps to understand why this dish holds so much value for me. He claims that, “food helps to define who we are” and describes food as “performative” since making familiar dishes reassures us of our identities while transmitting those identities to others (Parasecoli 75–76). For tamales, my family doesn’t follow a recipe. We show our love for Mexico, Catholic holidays, and each other. According to Parasecoli, traditions select practices from earlier generations and continue to do them in the present, particularly on major occasions (81). Our Christmas tamales preserve the past, but each meeting provides new memories.

My Colombian ancestry affects my tamale experience. Arepas and empanadas remind me of my father’s family and Bogotá, whereas tamales remind me of my mother and Acapulco. My cultural and food identity is layered, so I don;t have to pick between the two sides of me. Latin American neighborhoods, restaurants, street vendors, and classmates with gastronomic memories make living in Los Angeles and attending USC even more special.

Part II – Food Adventure

For my food adventure, I visited Chichen Itza, located inside Mercado La Paloma in South Los Angeles. I had the chance to experience a regional Mexican identity outside of the tacos I typically eat because the restaurant specializes in Yucatecan cuisine. Popular dishes like carnitas, al pastor, and cochinita pibil were not available to me because I don’t eat pork. But this limitation inspired me to explore beyond the most well-known tacos and learn about another significant Mexican gastronomic custom.

When I ordered the taco de pollo asado, the combination of ingredients and vibrant colors made it stand out right away. After being marinated in achiote and sour orange, the chicken was grilled and served on a warm corn tortilla with roasted tomato salsa, lettuce, black bean purée, and charred onions. The sour orange provided acidity and freshness, and the achiote gave the chicken a scarlet hue and an earthy, somewhat smoky flavor. The roasted salsa gave warmth without overpowering the other flavors, while the black beans offered a creamy contrast to the grilled chicken. The combination of the ingredients produced a taco that was cozy, well-balanced, and uniquely Yucatecan.

The corn tortilla was also important. It contributed taste, texture, and culture while binding the elements together. Mesoamerican Indigenous civilizations have eaten corn for millennia. Corn remained central to Indigenous diets in southern Mexico and the Yucatán Peninsula, while flour tortillas were popular in northern Mexico, where Spanish influence expanded wheat production. Each bite of corn, achiote, citrus, beans, and salsa evoked a time and place.

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I also considered what “authentic” meant during my vacation. Chichén Itzá’s food is authentic and culturally significant in Los Angeles, not Mexico. Despite moving, its cuisine is rooted in Yucatecan ingredients, practices, and memories. National cuisines are “diverse and constantly evolving repertoires rather than immutable recipe collections,” Pilcher (2) says.

Parasecoli, Fabio. “Food and Identity.” Gastronativism: Food, Identity, Politics, Columbia University Press, 2022, pp. 75–94

Pilcher, Jeffrey M. “Introduction.” ¡Que Vivan los Tamales!: Food and the Making of Mexican Identity, University of New Mexico Press, 1998, pp. 1–10.

By: Elizabeth Fombona

Uchepos & Villa Tacos: A love for food and family

By: Daisy Montesinos-Rivera

In Northern Michoacan, Mexico, a sweet corn tamale was born from the stems of the corn harvest. In winter, this dessert is served specifically at festivities and one of my mother’s favorite dishes as a Michocana. That sweet corn tamale was called Uchepos and it was a dish that illustrated my love for food. Every winter, my family gathers to make these Uchepos and sit around the dinner table to talk about our day. Each corn husk we filled mixed blended corn, corn bread mix, and sugar to steam them for an hour. Making the Uchepos and even eating them, served as a way for my family to talk about our feelings, issues, or have debates about anything. It even is our own initiation for new family members (not actually lol) and was a fundamental part of my brother in law being welcomed in our family so quickly. It deeply intertwined my love of not just eating or making food but being able to have my family laugh and smile at this little dessert. This dessert is not something we only shared in our home as we happily shared it with friends to eat with their families. Uchepos was more than just a sweet corn tamale, it reflected my personal love for food and how through systems of kinship, one can have such a familial association toward a dessert (Zhen 3). To me, these uchepos represent the deep love I have for food and family by having the harvested corn from my parents’ farmworker friends. It’s those steps of just partaking in our small tradition that reminds me of the sweet memories I experienced when I first visited Michoacan, Mexico. 

In 2016, I visited my mom’s hometown Tafolla, Michoacan, Mexico for the first time to see my family and experience the traditions I had followed for all my life. Since it was not winter, I missed out on eating Uchepos but I did not miss out on eating new food. There I explored just where my mom grew up and saw the immense love of food. Every food was eaten and shared as family, just as my own. Whether we were eating cake or tacos, everything was so loved and appreciated because it connected different people with just this little dish. It was here that I met different strangers and connected with them about the shared love of each food. When even our language barrier kind of halted our ability to understand one another, I quickly saw how food created this love for one another and this familial connection. I immediately thought of how Uchepos, which served as my pillar to love food, family and understand how it could connect strangers into family. 

Tacos are one of my most loved Mexican dishes that brought strangers and friends into my family. My love for tacos is something I am not shy about as any asada taco presented in front of me, will be easily demolished within seconds. My biggest love of tacos stemmed from the exact same reason why I love Uchelpos; it connects me with family and friends. Villa Tacos in Highland Park was a recent taco place I visited that reminded me so much of home and made me think of my mom making tacos at home for me. As a first-generation student, it meant a lot to me to see something I see so often in front of me when I am miles away from home. Villa Tacos represents the state of Michoacan and offered a different way I could experience home by its welcoming environment (Echale Ganas). I visited this location with my friends and a few people I met for the first time. These tacos were so incredibly delicious that by the time we left, we seemed as close as I was with my family. Every bite of the black corn tortilla and their al pastor tacos, sucked us in a new world of flavors and love for a new set of tacos. The tacos were beyond delicious and each one of us spoke about how this reminds us of our home and made us laugh until we were bursting from the seam. Not only did I gain more love for tacos but I saw how it can also bring people together and create a new set of family for you. Food is a direct representation of how I can combine my love for food and being together with family and friends. 

Works Cited: 

“About.” Villa’s Tacos, 29 June 2026, villastacos.com/about/.

Salcido, Ulysses. “Échale Ganas: The Villa’s Tacos Story.” Culinary Backstreets, Culinary Backstreets, 2 June 2022, culinarybackstreets.com/stories/los-angeles/echale-ganas.

“Uchepos Explained: Michoacán’s Sweet Corn Tamales That Taste like Summer.” Peppers of Key West, http://www.peppersofkeywest.com/uchepos-explained-michoacans-sweet-corn-tamales-that-taste-like-summer/. Accessed 14 Sept. 2026.

Vianey, Vivi. “Uchepos: Corn Tamales from Mi Abuelita, May She Rest in Peace.” Familia Kitchen, 26 Nov. 2023, familiakitchen.com/uchepos-corn-tamales-from-mi-abuela-may-she-rest-in-peace/.

Zhen, Willa. Food Studies: A Hands-On Guide. Bloomsbury Academic, 2019.

A Taste of Home, A Taste of Something New by: Negin Kahrobaie

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My Food Adventure: From Fesenjan to Al Pastor

by Parsa

Before I even opened the door to our home in Türkiye, I could smell the sweet and sour aroma of fesenjan filling the corridor. My parents divorced when I was two years old, and ten years later, my older brother and I joined my mother in Türkiye. One of my strongest memories from that time is walking home from school and recognizing the smell of fesenjan before I reached the door. I immediately knew what I was walking towards . My favorite meal was waiting inside. Even now, it is hard for me to explain how amazing that feeling was. The aroma did more than tell me what we were having for dinner; it made me feel that I was finally home with her.

Fesenjan is a rich Persian stew made with ground walnuts, pomegranate molasses, and either meatballs or chicken. One thing that makes it special is that it can be prepared without adding oil. As the walnuts cook slowly, they release their natural oil and give the stew its rich, thick texture. Its flavor is a mixture of sweet, sour, and savory. In my family, it is traditionally made with meatballs, but I prefer it with chicken.
Fesenjan is not connected to one specific holiday in my family. We usually eat it at home when the family gathers, but I also cook it whenever I crave it. My mother normally prepares it, and even though I can make it myself, hers always tastes better. Pilcher writes that speakers at a cultural event “hailed tamales as icons of the Mexican nation.” In a similar way, I see fesenjan as an iconic Persian food because it carries part of my culture and identity. Sharing it with my family reminds me of Iran, my mother’s care, and the time we spend together around the table. I also enjoy making it for friends from other backgrounds because food allows me to share my culture without giving a long explanation. Fesenjan represents family, comfort, and connection. Each time I eat it, I remember that a recipe can hold more than flavor, it can carry memories and keep relationships strong.

The al pastor taco also has a layered identity that connects Mexican food with the history of Lebanese immigration. The name al pastor means “in the style of the shepherd,” referring to the method of roasting meat on a vertical spit. According to the “Pastor” episode of Taco Chronicles, Lebanese immigrants arrived in Mexico through Veracruz and settled in Puebla, bringing cooking traditions related to shawarma. Shawarma was generally made with lamb or mutton and served with flatbread, but Mexican cooks gradually adapted it by using pork, chile based adobo, and tortillas “Pastor”. This early combination became known as tacos árabes, or “Arab tacos,” and later generations helped develop the al pastor taco recognized today. According to food historian Jeffrey Pilcher, al pastor became widely popular during the 1960s and eventually became a standard Mexican dish (Friesen). Although Puebla is important to its history, the Netflix episode identifies al pastor as Mexico City’s most emblematic taco and an important part of chilango identity. The pork is commonly marinated with chiles, vinegar, achiote, and spices, stacked on a trompo, cooked beside a flame, and sliced thinly onto a small, hot corn tortilla. Pineapple, onion, cilantro, salsa, and lime balance the rich pork with sweetness, freshness, spice, and acidity. 

Recently, I visited Angel’s Tacos, my go-to taquería. Angel’s Tacos used to have a location in Woodland Hills, but this time I visited its Van Nuys location. While I was there, I met Esmeralda, who has worked there for over a year. Because of the language barrier, we were not able to talk very much, but I learned that al pastor is also her favorite taco. This small interaction made the visit feel more personal because someone who works there every day enjoys the same taco that keeps bringing me back. I ordered four al pastor tacos, and they were great, as always. The corn tortillas were warm and very soft; the last one even began to tear because it had absorbed so much juice from the meat. Each bite combined the savory pork with salsa roja, guacamole, cilantro, lime, and pineapple. The pineapple is my favorite part because it creates a sudden burst of sweetness among the rich meat, spicy salsa, creamy guacamole, fresh cilantro, and sour lime. All the different flavors came together perfectly.

Like my family’s fesenjan, al pastor shows that authentic food does not have to remain unchanged. My family may change the type of meat in fesenjan, but the dish still connects me to my mother, Iran, and my memories of home. In both foods, adaptation does not erase identity; it helps carry that identity across places and generations.

Works Cited
Elahi, Etrat. “FESANJĀN.” Encyclopaedia Iranica, 15 Dec. 1999, updated 28 May 2013, https://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/fesanjan/. Accessed 14 Sept. 2026.
Friesen, Katy June. “Where Did the Taco Come From?” Smithsonian Magazine, 3 May 2012, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/where-did-the-taco-come-from-81228162/. Accessed 14 Sept. 2026.
“Pastor.” Taco Chronicles, created by Pablo Cruz, vol. 1, episode 1, Netflix, 12 July 2019.
Pilcher, Jeffrey M. ¡Que vivan los tamales!: Food and the Making of Mexican Identity. University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

AUTHOR: Parsa Sheikhi