The Lucky Neighbourhood : Ranelagh
Reflections on a Restaurant of Elevated Mexican Cuisine
"The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Fondita Mestiza."
Written by: El Michelín
In Santa María Tlahuitoltepec, a Mixe community resides in the northeastern region of Oaxaca, in the Sierra Mixe. The language spoken there is Ayuuk. Historically, the Mixe region is known for having resisted the Mixtecs, the Mexicas, and, of course, the Spaniards. It is one of the nations where ancestral rituals, cosmovisions, and their deep connection with the body, the land, and labor persist. Through food, the Mixe people celebrate their gratitude to the earth, a good harvest, and the sense of community. Mä’ätsy, or the Mixe machucado, is a ceremonial meal passed down from generation to generation—celebrated on August 1st—where they give thanks to Mother Earth for a plentiful and abundant harvest.
One of the ways to prepare the Mixe machucado is as follows: first, the corn is nixtamalized and ground on a metate. Large tortillas (similar to memelas) are then placed on a comal, and once they are almost cooked, they are mashed again on the metate to form a ball of dough. This dough of corn is placed in a clay pot over the fire. Meanwhile, a sauce is prepared, using tomatoes and pasilla chilies, or pumpkin seeds, or tomatillos—depending on each family's preparation style. Therefore, there is no single recipe, as often found in traditional cookbooks. Once the sauce is ready, it is added to the corn dough in the clay pot and left to cook over low heat. Despite the different ways to eat this dish, a common practice among these families during this celebration is for everyone to sit around the dish and take their portion with their hands. It is also commonly accompanied by quelites and chilacayotas and mezcal. For the Mixe people, this is not just a meal; it is a ceremony, a celebration where dialogue, listening, and reflection take place among family members.
Mä’ätsy, or the Mixe machucado / Photo by: Leche con Tuna
On the other side of the world, in the heart of Ranelagh, Dublin 6, a restaurant recently opened, offering what it calls "elevated Mexican cuisine." It claims to bring the "authentic" flavors of Jalisco and Oaxaca to Dublin. This restaurant also offers an exclusive selection of mezcal, which, according to them, cannot be found in many places in Europe. In her review of this restaurant, a food critic mentioned that the dining experience reminded her of Moroccan mezzes or Spanish tapas, where small plates are meant to be shared at the table. The restaurant team took on the nearly impossible task of condensing the vast ethnocultural diversity of Oaxaca into a handful of dishes labeled as “Oaxacan cuisine.” On their website, they claim to serve mole verde and beef cheek mole negro.
To put things into context, Oaxaca is home to nations that have existed long before the arrival of the Spaniards. Zapotec is one of the most diversified language groups in the Americas, with 58 distinct Zapotec languages. The Mixtec languages, found in Oaxaca, Puebla, and Guerrero, number around 49. In the case of Mixe, according to Ethnologue, there are 10 different Mixe languages, each representing a unique collective identity. There are communities just five kilometers apart that speak completely different languages and fiercely defend their own traditions and cultural processes. This means that knowledge varies—there is no single way to cook, no universal mole recipe. On the contrary, the moles prepared within these communities go far beyond the dish itself; they embody a cosmovision expressed through rituals and ceremonies.
Different moles are prepared depending on the occasion: mole for a baptism, mole for a wedding, mole for a funeral. However, mole has often been oversimplified as merely a base of chilies and spices. As María del Carmen Castillo Cisneros states, Mexican culinary identities are multivocal and social, and within their ingredients, one finds experience, memory, knowledge, and sociocultural relationships. The Phylogenetic Tree of Mole was developed as a study of 12 groups of moles and similar stews. This classification was created through an alphabetized matrix, categorizing them by their ingredients and geographical region. Mole, beyond being a dish rooted in tradition—one that even dates back to pre-Hispanic times—holds immense cultural significance.Esther Katz, in her research: El chile en la Mixteca alta de Oaxaca: de la comida al ritual, refers that in Mixtec communities, for example, a mole amarillo is often prepared for religious festivities or the funerals of children. It is also used as an offering and placed on altars. In this sense, food acts as a vehicle for ceremonies and festivities. According to Katz’s thesis, the chile—the base of moles—is at the core of culinary culture. For the Mixtec people, the chile is what gives the body its strength and ensures good health.
Image: Map of pueblos and nations of Oaxaca by El Colectivo Mixe
At this fine-dining establishment, the beverage menu is extensive, featuring everything from beers to cocktails and wines. In an article published about this restaurant, the food critic ordered a bottle of Côtes de Gascony Domaine Guillaman Colombard-Sauvignon to pair with her birria tacos and mushroom quesadilla. While in another article about the same establishment, the author ordered margaritas and later switched to a Modelo beer, which she said it “pairs so naturally with Mexican food”. It is striking that a restaurant that prides itself on offering an Oaxacan culinary experience serves French and Italian wines alongside its dishes. Notably, although not mentioned in the reviews, the restaurant also boasts a selection of all five agave spirits: sotol, bacanora, raicilla, mezcal, and tequila—“spirits and brands you can’t find anywhere in Ireland or most of Europe.” What is considered exclusive in Ranelagh is simply part of everyday life in the Sierra Mixe.
Mixe linguist and activist Yasyana Aguilar shared the following tweets regarding the everyday life of the mixes (Now, X):
"When my grandfather returned from the fields or the construction site, exhausted, he would pour himself a mezcal before dinner. My sister and I would run to see him, sitting beside him or on his lap. He would let a few drops of mezcal fall into our mouths. We must have been three and two years old".
"Before drinking it, in the Sierra Mixe, we pour three drops of mezcal onto the earth. A few years ago, I saw an ancient Mixe-Zoque stele depicting a ruler pouring three drops of his own blood onto the ground. Two thousand years ago."
Perhaps, from a cultural marketing perspective, what this restaurant is doing is shifting the perception of Oaxacan cuisine, elevating it to the status of French or Japanese cuisine, which have long been revered by connoisseurs. I’ve heard some Mexicans express gratitude for this type of boutique, high-end Mexican restaurant, arguing that there are already too many places in Dublin that only serve tacos, nachos, and guacamole. Additionally, the executive chef here is Mexican, and from what I understand, most of the kitchen staff and servers are also Mexican. Shouldn’t that be enough to legitimize it as an "authentic" Mexican restaurant?
I’ve described—supported by the reviews from different newspapers, this restaurant concept is, at first glance, enticing: small, beautiful plates, vibrant colors, handmade tortillas, mezcal cocktails, and, of course, an interior design that serves as an influencer hotspot, a new dining destination for the affluent guests of Dublin 4 and 6, where a meal can easily cost €100 per person. And why not? Perhaps, in the coming years, they will even dream of earning a mention from my French cousin, Michelin.
What remains unclear is the origins of their mole verde. One cannot help but ask: Where do these recipes come from? What was the “inspiration” behind making it? The restaurant presents it as a generic green mole. But does it truly matter? Are diners genuinely interested in knowing the cultural context of a mole recipe?
As long as there is capital to exploit Indigenous identities without giving them due recognition and to establish them in one of Dublin’s trendiest food districts, it remains a privilege reserved for a select few entrepreneurs. In addition, there is a growing trend—supported by critics—to celebrate the figure of the chef or the team behind a successful restaurant project. This is tied to the capitalist logic of glorifying the author, the individual genius, where chefs or restaurant owners are treated like rockstars. They engage in a process of translation or conversion, taking something from a collective cultural practice, like mole, and turning it into an individual attribution, in this case, to this establishment. It is noteworthy that a food critic who attended this restaurant, mentioned that despite the friendly “Mexican staff” at the restaurant, she experienced a moment of discomfort when she was seated in a spot she found too small and uncomfortable. Spoiler alert: in many establishments—for example, street food vendors in Mexico City—people often eat on the street, sitting on small stools next to the sidewalk. That’s if they’re lucky. Otherwise, they eat standing up, holding a plastic plate while making their way to the salsa, limes or nopales.
Photo: A street food stand in Mexico City. It is said that tacos taste better when eaten while standing
Ultimately, this place distances itself from mexican stereotypes only to move closer to elitism and the rhetoric of commodifying Jaliscan and Oaxacan-inspired dishes (with all the complexity and cultural diversity those states encompass). The goal? To demonstrate that these dishes are also on par with gourmet restaurants. Meanwhile, in Dublin, every week, restaurants, coffee shops and small businesses shut down as they struggle to compete against big entrepreneurs and corporate franchises and with the state itself. Perhaps the business model needs to change, which would mean that food experiences must also transform. It’s clear that this type of restaurant experience is only accessible to a few. Perhaps this idea is unappealing, as it would mean diners might initially feel uncomfortable eating on the street, eating while standing, or sharing a table with strangers. But maybe it would also mean that more people from less privileged backgrounds could have access to dishes like mole negro or birria tacos that, at their core, come from saber-hacer (the know-how), a collective knowledge in which recognition of the other happens through the act of eating. In the light of this,I am sure that the flavors showcased in the dishes at this Elevated Mexican restaurant live up to the chefs' culinary creativity. Any establishment that includes chilaquiles rojos on the menu is reason enough to visit on a Sunday at noon, the most effective antidote to a hangover.