In an industrial-chic space in 4 Grados Norte, Guatemala City’s hip dining neighborhood, chef Debora Fadul’s one-table restaurant Diacá serves her signature palate-confounding dishes, like grilled watermelon soup, or chile relleno with majunche tortilla crumble in honey meringue. A block away, Pablo Díaz’s Mercado 24 makes raw shrimp ceviche with fresh Guatemalan chile chocolate. And in Zone 14, Sergio Díaz’s upscale Sublime offers dishes inspired by moments in Guatemala's history, like “El Primer Embajador” (The First Ambassador): coffee-crusted snook with platano purée, Parisian buttercream, and bougainvillea dust.
This is New Guatemalan cuisine, a Mesoamerican culinary movement that’s been brewing for the past couple of decades. The effort has exploded in recent years thanks to a new generation of internationally-trained, inventive young chefs. Smart, design-forward restaurants are popping up all over Guatemala, with menus that embrace the country’s indigenous cuisine and ingredients in entirely new ways.
This approach is new to the country, and also new to me—the daughter of a Guatemalan immigrant. For much of my life, whenever Guatemala has made headlines, it’s usually for humanitarian crises; not the country's incredible comida típica. I can never resist a tamal, creamy frijoles negros, or tangy stews like pepián and jocón. Yet before dining at Diacá, where Fadul has diners guess the flavor undertones of various scented bottles at the start of the meal, I'd never encountered Guatemalan food like this. “The experience that we give you is connecting with yourself, to connect with the ingredients,” says Fadul, who collaborates with farmers throughout Guatemala. “You'll realize that you've opened a door and there's no going back.... you're going to start getting involved with your ingredients.”
Locally-sourced elements—like the mind-boggling varieties of chiles, corn, gourds, beans, and tropical fruits that flourish in Guatemala’s 360 microclimates—are the heart of Guatemalan food; whether the recipe originated millennia ago, or just last week. For chef Mirciny Moliviatis, who has hosted three TV shows exploring Guatemala's regional cuisines, including Desafío Culinario, and co-hosted shows like Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, the country’s cuisine also has an inherent tie to history and culture. “There’s an ancient Mayan engraving of a figure offering a tamal to the gods,” she says. “It's amazing to understand the cuisine when you know the history you’re part of.”
Moliviatis has spent the past 14 years promoting Guatemalan cuisine, “even to Guatemalans.” Before the efforts of Guatemala’s first wave of celebrity chefs, like Mario Campollo, only European food was considered fine dining. Ethnic specialties and street foods like tostadas were sold roadside or at everyday markets. “My first time making a high-end menu with Guatemalan ingredients, the client didn't want to pay me,” says Moliviatis. “Now they can sell a tamal at Mercado 24 and people pay.”
There are twenty-three mercados in Guatemala City, where you can find anything from traditional textiles and pottery, to old-school food stalls like Doña Mela. Pablo, whose “market food” is decidedly non-traditional, says his team considers themselves the twenty-fourth [mercado].” In a funky, graffiti-covered repurposed warehouse, Mercado 24 serves camote gnocchi and shrimp Gua Baos with just one rule: “We can do anything, but with 100 percent local ingredients.” Fresh seafood from Guatemala’s two seas features heavily at Mercado 24 and Dora La Tostadora, Pablo’s gourmet tostada shop located in the La Erre art gallery. His tostadas eschew the expected smears of frijoles or guacamole, favoring ceviche and endemic vegetables like güisquil, elotes, maíz, chiles, or pepitorias.
These culinary risks might make some traditionalists wonder: How far can dishes stray while still being quintessentially Guatemalan? “It’s part of the evolution,” says Moliviatis. “It’s satisfying to see our work paying off.”
Quetzaltenango-born Sergio concurs: “If I’m not evolving, I’m not alive.” Sergio, who develops Sublime’s menu with culinary anthropologist Jocelyn Degollado, wants to spark national pride. “Guatemalans aren’t proud of being Guatemalan because they don’t know our roots,” Sergio says. “Sublime tells Guatemala’s history in dishes.”
The twelve courses in Sublime’s new tasting menu correspond to different eras in Guatemala’s 200 year history. But of course, says Sergio, “Our culture is thousands of years old, from the Maya to today.” Offerings like the à la carte menu’s pre-Hispanic era-inspired “Cultivar”—roast vegetables, tomato chips, onion dust, and guayaba vinaigrette—are delicious ways to learn about Guatemala’s culinary past, present, and future.
It appears not even a global pandemic can hinder this movement. While Guatemala experienced months of lockdowns and aid has been slow to arrive, many of Guatemala City’s restaurants thrived. “My business tripled,” says Fadul. During COVID, she created Diacá’s virtual catering experience, as well as a social network connecting farmers to consumers, and El Studio di Diacá, a concept lab where clients can see recipes and products being developed. Mercado 24 delivered tostada and comfort food kits to customers, while the Sublime group, along with launching a ghost kitchen called Calle, began an international street food delivery service, and prepared private meals in clients’ homes “with all the protocols.” Sublime also opened a drive-through experience, “like Sonic in the States,” says Sergio. “We had no support from the government... but we never stopped for a second.”
So what’s next after such an unusual year? “We'll see more Mesoamerican and Guatemalan techniques [in Guatemala's restaurants] than European ones,” Fadul predicts. Pablo agrees: “It’s all going to get bigger.”
Sergio, who considers Sublime an ambassador for Guatemala, expects nothing less—and plans to keep sight of the larger mission along the way. “The movement is just starting. We’ll keep working to promote our country.”
