The central Mexican state of Hidalgo is rightly famed for its tacos de barbacoa, but Jalisco’s version is an experience all its own, packing slow-braised beef into crunchy corn tortillas.
With competition intensifying, leading tequila brands are turning to increasingly lavish, experimental creations and even high-tech collaborations in a bid to stand out.
Pare de Sufrir—or “end your suffering”—offers 70 brands of mezcal from producers around Mexico, including a special variety made with chicken breast.
Mexican craft brewery Cucapá conned Trump supporters into buying T-shirts proclaiming “I Support Donald”—but the message transforms into something very different when exposed to warm temperatures.
Forget margaritas, tequila slammers, or the frankly terrible tequila sunrise. There’s a much more fun and refreshing way to enjoy Mexico’s most loved spirit: out of a clay casserole dish.
With most Mexican burger joints offering thin, tasteless patties with plastic cheese squares in overly sweet or crumbly buns, Pig’s Pearls stands out not only for its commitment to premium burgers but also promoting local craft beers.
In San Luis Soyatlán, you’ll spot dozens of people clutching plastic bags full of tequila-spiked crimson liquid, as if an entrepreneurial vampire had set up shop to supply his brethren with their daily doses of blood.
La Fuente does not have a website or an Instagram account, and it serves little more than beer, tequila, and pig’s trotters to a diverse array of elderly regulars, politicians, writers, and local celebrities.
Possibly haunted and rumored to have once put cat meat in its birria, Guadalajara’s La Iberia has long and bizarre history as the oldest cantina in the area.
The bar’s legendary house cocktail, “Nalgas Alegres,” or “Happy Buttocks,” costs just 50 pesos and consists of gin, rum, red wine, Orange Crush soda, and lime juice.
The Mexican state of Jalisco lost one of its most beloved culinary figures this month when Javier Torres Ruiz, who dedicated his life to making birria, passed away at the age of 74.
Chef Joe Ibarra, who runs a Brazilian steak restaurant in Mexico City, was asked to prepare Pope Francis’s meals throughout the pontiff’s stay in Mexico.
“The whole scorpion is edible and it’s full of protein,” the bartender assured me just before I popped the booze-soaked arachnid between my teeth at Reyes Salón Cantina, a Guadalajara bar famous for its scorpion shots.
Karne Garibaldi, a small chain of restaurants based in Guadalajara, holds the Guinness World Record for the fastest ever food service, with the waiters laying out a full menu in just 13.5 seconds.
In the heart of Mexico City’s historic enter, the indoor San Juan market is famed for its selection of exotic meats, indigenous delicacies, and rare foreign imports. But who exactly is buying lion?
Made from fermented maize and pineapple respectively, tejuino and tepache are typically served in plastic cups or plastic bags tied to a straw, sold almost exclusively on market stalls or by pedal-cart street vendors.
The people of Guadalajara know what they want in a sandwich. The torta ahogada—a pork-stuffed baguette swamped in so much spicy salsa that it must be eaten with a spoon—is a local hangover cure and a compelling reason to skip church.