Spelta

How did this place come about and what made it different from the start?
Spelta was born from a group of friends who decided to bring together our ideas, our ways of working, and also our way of understanding food and life. Each of us contributed something different: the kitchen, the bakery, the relationship with ingredients, the garden, the creativity. From the start, we wanted to create a breakfast place where the cooking felt honest, thoughtful, and unpretentious. It was important to us that the ingredients had a story behind them, that there was a relationship with nearby producers, and that the menu would be built around the seasons. Rather than a quick restaurant, we imagined a space where people could sit down, eat well, and begin the day calmly.

What part of the day, space, or creative process do those who work here enjoy the most?
The moment before opening, when everything is still quiet and the kitchen begins to come alive: salsas are ground, bread is baked, bases are prepared, and the smell of coffee slowly fills the space. It’s a very intimate moment in the restaurant, when the whole team prepares for what the day will bring.

If someone is coming in for the first time, what should they not miss?
Something that represents our cooking well. The chilaquiles, the shakshuka, or one of our daily specials usually tells that story. Also the sweet bread: it’s a very important part of the project. We make it with sourdough, organic and whole flours, and with the same care we put into the savory kitchen. We believe deeply in the value of real ingredients and the time it takes to do things well, and that’s especially noticeable in the bakery. Even with the drinks, we try to follow that same philosophy: using natural, high-quality ingredients without shortcuts, so that everything that reaches the table is consistent with who we are.

What has been an interesting challenge that has made you rethink something about the project?
Learning to listen to the real rhythm of the place. When you start a project, you have many ideas about how it should work, but over time you begin to better understand your community, your guests, and the space itself. That process has made us adjust certain things without losing the essence of the project.

What influence, idea, or reference continues to shape the way you work today?
The idea that cooking can be a bridge between people and the territory. We care that ingredients aren’t anonymous, and that behind every dish there is a relationship with the person who produces it, with the season, and with the place where we are.

What place, project, or person has inspired you recently and why?
We’re very inspired by projects that manage to integrate agriculture, cooking, and community—places where the restaurant isn’t just a business, but an extension of a broader ecosystem involving producers, cooks, and diners. We’re also inspired by projects that speak from reality rather than fiction: spaces where what is communicated is truly lived. Over time, you learn to distinguish between what is simply sold as an idea and what is actually built day by day. Those kinds of projects—honest and coherent with what they say—are the ones that motivate us the most.

If your space could invite someone to collaborate for a day, who would it be and what would you do together?
It would be incredible to cook for a day with Alice Waters. Her work helped take the farm-to-table movement to another level and showed that the way we eat can also transform communities. In Mexico, that connection with the land has always existed, but there is still a lot to strengthen. It would be very interesting to design a menu together that creates a dialogue between what grows here and that philosophy.

Is there an object, corner or detail of the place that has a story that few people know?
There are small details that have accumulated over time: utensils, tableware, and objects we’ve found in markets or during travels that eventually become part of the space. They’re simple things, but they make the place feel lived-in and personal.

If this project were a city, a book, or a record, which would it be and why?
It would probably be a cookbook: something that mixes recipes, stories about ingredients, and small observations about the land and the seasons. That’s how we feel about the project—as a kitchen that is always in dialogue with the producer and the field.

Answers by Pamela Perezurita, co-founder of Spelta Café