I’ve been collecting these photographs across more than a decade of visits to Oaxaca, starting from my very first trip in May 2013. When I look at them now, the textures and colours transport me immediately – those distinctive Oaxacan tablecloths, the hand-painted dishes, the flowers scattered in the background. I can taste the flavours all over again.
What surprised me most, initially, was learning about the pre-Hispanic heirloom corn varieties. I knew corn was important to Mexican cuisine, of course, but discovering these ancient varieties – criollo corn in deep purples and reds, some nearly black – opened my understanding of how fundamentally different Oaxacan food is from Mexican cuisine elsewhere.
The moles here aren’t what you’d expect if you’ve only tasted Mexican food outside of Oaxaca. The complexity is extraordinary – some require over twenty ingredients, ground by hand on volcanic stone metates that have been used for generations. I remember watching abuela after abuela working their way through the process, each family recipe slightly different, each one a masterclass in patience and technique.
These photographs capture something I find difficult to explain to people who haven’t been here. The way morning light falls across fresh tortillas still warm from the comal. The deep, earthy red of chile chilhuacle negro. The satisfaction of eating food that tastes exactly as it did centuries ago, prepared with the same care, the same reverence for ingredients that grow from this particular soil.
Looking through these images, I’m reminded why I keep returning to Oaxaca, why the flavours here have become such an important part of my understanding of what food can be when it’s deeply rooted in place.
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