A hands-on tortilla-making class focused on technique, simplicity, and shared experience. Once learning the fundamentals of making tortillas we will graduate to making tételas (a triangular filled tortilla dish similar to a empanad out of corn masa). Guests cook together, learn the fundamentals, and enjoy the meal they’ve created.
April 2026: Mexico
Mexico City
Mexico City hits you all at once.
The noise. The traffic. The smell of grilled meat and exhaust hanging in the air together. Street vendors yelling over each other while someone plays music loud enough to distort the speakers from three blocks away. It’s massive, chaotic, loud, and completely alive.
And the food never stops.
You can spend an entire day eating here without ever setting foot inside a restaurant. Tacos carved straight off the trompo at midnight. Tamales pulled from steaming pots on street corners in the morning. Cups of fruit covered in lime and chili. Tiny spots packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder eating things that would absolutely earn Michelin stars if someone put white tablecloths underneath them.
Mexico City made me realize how much great food has nothing to do with being fancy.
Some of my favorite moments there weren’t planned at all. Wandering through neighborhoods with no real destination. Sitting at crowded bars drinking mezcal while strangers argued passionately about soccer or politics. Walking through markets where every stand seemed to specialize in one thing they had probably perfected over generations.
The city feels layered. Ancient history underneath modern chaos underneath constant reinvention. You feel it everywhere — Aztec ruins sitting beside colonial buildings, old women making tortillas by hand while kids nearby blast reggaeton from their phones.
It’s impossible not to get pulled into the rhythm of the place eventually.
And like Bangkok, Mexico City rewards people willing to embrace a little disorder.
Puerto Escondido
Puerto Escondido feels like the kind of place people accidentally stay longer than they planned.
What starts as “a few relaxing days at the beach” somehow turns into a week of losing track of time completely. Days revolve around surf conditions, seafood, sunsets, and figuring out which mezcal bar you ended up at the night before.
Life moves slower there. Or maybe people just stop pretending they’re in a hurry.
The heat sticks to you all day. Salt dries on your skin. Everyone looks slightly sunburnt and sleep deprived in the best possible way. You spend mornings drinking strong coffee and eating fresh fruit, afternoons hiding from the sun with cold beers or ceviche, and nights outside because there’s no reason to be anywhere indoors.
The beaches there feel wild too. Not polished resort beaches. Real Pacific Ocean energy. Massive waves crashing hard enough to make you respect them immediately. Watching surfers paddle out at sunrise looked equal parts peaceful and insane.
Some of the best food I had in Mexico came from a farm stay off a lagoon that fed into the pacific. White plastic chairs, make shift wooden deck patching that screamed “Am I built to code? What Code?” Regardless, serving immaculate whole grilled fish covered in smoke and lime. Aguachile spicy enough to make your nose run and cold fresh juice picked directly from their farm feet away.
Puerto Escondido isn’t trying very hard to impress anyone, which is probably why it works so well.
What I remember most though is the feeling the place gives you after a few days there. You stop checking your phone as much. Dinner lasts longer. Shoes start feeling unnecessary. Plans become optional.
You leave a little slower than when you arrived.