Toloache Café, Casa Oaxaca & Humar
Good morning Peeps!
I took my time getting up yesterday morning, knowing deep down that today would be a magical day. I walked to Toloache Café, just a short 9-minute stroll from my hotel.
Tucked away and full of charm, this hidden gem surprised me upon entry—there was a live animal exhibit with large snakes, grasshoppers, and crickets. The host explained that July 16 is the Day of the Serpent, honoring their right to life and safety. He kindly offered to let me hold a snake, but I was on my way to meet someone very important and didn’t want to be late. I politely declined and took my latte to go, promising myself I’d return another day, perhaps after training.
As I made my way to her neighborhood, I noticed a fig tree growing out of the sidewalk. One ripe fig caught my eye—already mentally claimed for tomorrow.
After our meeting, I walked out en vigorizada—energized—and wandered through sinuous streets lined with cracked sidewalks and uneven stones. You can’t text and walk here; that would be perilous!
I eventually stopped in front of Casa Oaxaca (link), where I was welcomed into a beautiful, expansive restaurant filled with plants—and unless I imagined it, a fountain. I was seated with care; the host even hooked my bag onto a small cast iron contraption beside my table. A server arrived with a large platter set on a folding stand: a molcajete surrounded by bowls of roasted tomatoes, tomatillos, chile de agua, chile de árbol, charred onion and garlic, and coarse salt. He made me a fresh salsa right there in the stone mortar. It was delicious—though my husband’s salsa still wins, hands down.
Then came the Aztec soup—sopa de tortilla—with a rich, thick broth and thinly fried tortilla strips. I savored each spoonful, soaking in the flavors, the energy of the city, and the joy of learning. The menu was so tempting; I could’ve ordered everything.
Walking back uphill to San Felipe del Agua, I let my mind wander. I imagined the hidden paradises behind the tall walls and simple gates that line the streets—courtyards filled with trees, cactus, and flowers. Oaxaca is a city of secrets: from the outside, a graffiti-stained concrete wall; from the inside, an oasis. It’s the opposite of what I’m used to, where we try to make our front yards beautiful for passersby. Here, beauty is held close and cherished privately.
After a siesta at the hotel, I got ready for dinner at Humar, a local seafood spot.
The restaurant had two levels; I sat on the quieter main floor. Service was warm and attentive. They started with a complimentary shrimp broth, rich and exquisite. I ordered a michelada, which arrived with a fresh oyster perched on the rim—plump, lightly salty, and so refreshing. I finally settled on the tostada macha, a crispy tortilla topped with shrimp and octopus cooked to perfection, drenched in a rich salsa macha, and garnished with cucumber, red onion, and avocado. It was filling and deeply satisfying. The fried oyster taco called out, I gave in easily and have no regret to this day!
Later, I strolled back toward the Zócalo, absorbing the pulse of this vibrant city. There’s beauty, but also clear signs of gentrification. Pop-up artisan markets filled the now pedestrian streets. I wandered into a house of artisans and discovered intricately woven clothing, colorful alebrijes, and striking barro negro pottery—dark and glossy like obsidian.
As the sun set, the city filled with smoke from food stalls. Women moved quietly through the crowds, murmuring: “Tortas… esquites… memelas…” to office workers and late-night strollers. When I heard “esquites” I couldn’t help but cringe—my stomach still remembers last year’s misadventure. The air was heavy with the scent of cheese, grilled meats, and tejate, the ancient Oaxacan drink made with cacao and corn (tejate article).
The bustle became a bit much. Just then, a couple stepped out of a taxi and I jumped on the opportunity to grab the newly vacated ride. I headed back to my room, full of gratitude, spice, and salsa—ready for another good night’s sleep.
