20 June 5th-June 11th, 2025 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | down after about a year and a half. Then in 2011, Bonilla launched their Mesa location with the same name as the restaurant he runs today. “We eventually closed the Scottsdale one,” he says, “and stayed in Mesa until last year, when a fire at a neighboring business affected ours too. So, we had to fix that place and hopefully we can open it back up in a couple of months.” Our conversation was starting to get good, then he says with a grin, “Eat your food, it’ll get cold.” Then he’s off again, helping other customers — his quiet hospi- tality gently convincing each one to return. I bite into the tlacoyos, a dish rare in the Valley but beloved where Bonilla is from. They’re like gorditas: masa packed with garbanzo and pinto beans, flattened then deep-fried and topped with salsa verde, lettuce and cheese. Each bite delivers a balance of crunch, chewiness and flavors pulled from Bonilla’s mother’s kitchen, passed down to him, then his wife and five kids who help run the restaurants. “On the tlacoyos, if you want, you can add whatever meat you like (carne asada, chicken, pastor) for extra or keep it vege- tarian-friendly,” Bonilla says. “Many people from northern Mexico don’t always recognize these, even though they’re Mexican too.” He rushes off to help another customer and then returns to the table. “We’ve been here for almost eight months now, and the response from people has been great,” he says. “We’re in a bar and coffee shop space, but we run the restaurant part separately. Now we all work together.” The communal eatery-meets-self-serve shopping experience is very different from the larger-menu spot in Mesa. For drinks, you can grab bottled Mexican sodas from the fridge like Boing!, Jarritos, Fresca, or go the local route. “We have homemade drinks,” he adds, “horchata, jamaica, strawberry lemonade, cucumber with lemon.” Like his mom and abuelita before him, Bonilla and his crew make all the fresh drinks, tortillas and salsas in-house. “That small dish has fried chiltepin,” he says. “Try it.” I dip my pinky finger in and touch it to my tongue. “Bro, that’s spicy!” I blurt out. He laughs, then adds, “And we have haba- nero salsa, red sauce and avocado salsa.” As I take my final bites of the third dish — a huarache ($14) with carne asada and melted Oaxaca cheese, bathed in green tomatillo sauce and topped with shredded lettuce — the dining room starts to clear out. Bonilla brings over some to-go boxes, needed thanks to the generous portions, and then offers one last suggestion. “We have café de olla, a traditional Mexican coffee. Would you like some?” he asks. Without hesitation, I nod, smiling through my chewing. He returns with a filled to-go cup and sits down beside me. “I used to drink café de olla with my grandma,” he says. “When people taste it, they always say it’s different. I tell them it’s because we make it with more flavor, just like she used to.” The coffee is slightly sweet and spiced, kissed with a hint of cinnamon and cara- melized sugar. I ask about his plans for the future, and whether he’ll return to Mesa or continue serving up dishes in Tempe. “I like it here,” he says, nodding. “Tempe has really nice people. I’m focusing more here now, even though I still have the business in Mesa.” The Tempe community seems to be embracing this new spot with open arms. “The name Huauchinango doesn’t just cater to people from south Mexico,” he says. “It is for everyone here in metro Phoenix.” And that’s when it hits me: Huauchinango isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a living memory of home, a love letter from Puebla folded into fresh corn tortillas, simmered in mole and shared with strangers who leave feeling like family. Restaurant Huauchinango 805 S. Farmer Ave., Tempe From Puebla, with Mole from p 18 The shared Tempe Farmers Market venue is a feast for the eyes—overflowing with kitschy charm and unexpected details. (Mike Madriaga)
