“If you don't see the donkey, you won't feel like traveling” is a popular expression that I first heard in a district of a small Mexican municipality, Arroyo Dehesa, in the state of Veracruz. It literally means: when you see the donkey, then – and only then – you will feel like traveling. A saying that evokes almost biblical imagery, but above all humorously reflects the local perception of time in daily life.
In reality, it is used in a caricatured way to emphasize the procrastination of a choice, often playful, that only occurs after perceiving its benefit.
It is a waiting that does not generate anxiety, but belonging, sharing, acceptance of the natural rhythms of things.
In August 2025, during a trip to the state of Oaxaca in southern-central Mexico, I experienced this saying from a culinary perspective. As I walked through the city market of Oaxaca, stall after stall, I realized that here, time is not measured in hours but in flavors.
Egg and chocolate bread
The market is bustling with people from the early morning. You can start the day with a smoothie made of fruits and vegetables of every color, or with a pan de yema y chocolate, available throughout the morning. There are also savory breakfasts made with corn, shredded chicken, and spicy sauces, the inevitable antojitos, or eggs prepared in a thousand different ways.
I chose a steaming cup of milk flavored with cinnamon berries, in which a deep and intense chocolate paste is dissolved. The drink is always accompanied by a sweet bread kneaded with egg yolk, to ensure you start the day with todo.
True beauty, in Oaxaca, is being able to follow the chocolate ritual starting from the previous afternoon, observing in the bodegas the preparation of the paste and the use of the molinillo, which rotating over medium heat melts the chocolate evenly. An almost magical potion, to be drunk and experienced.
Chicken with mole and rice
After a walk in the historic center of Oaxaca, I had lunch with one of the iconic dishes of the local cuisine: chicken with mole. The variations are numerous and change from state to state, but here the boiled chicken is wrapped in a complex sauce that is spicy, sweet, and hot at the same time, in which chocolate is not the absolute protagonist but a persistent memory.
The dish is accompanied by boiled rice with well-separated grains and corn tortillas, used as an edible spoon.
For structure and aroma, I paired half a glass of artisanal white mezcal. I promised myself to try the chapulines in a gourmet version another time. After trying a butter and ant cream on warm crackers in Metepec, near Mexico City, I knew that certain encounters require the right moment.
Artisanal mezcal
There is no trip to Oaxaca without taking the mezcal route. It is a journey that crosses a wide area around the city, dotted with small haciendas dedicated to artisanal production.
Even before the distilleries, the journey is made of sun, dryness, green maguey, and dry faces encountered along the way, often accompanied by a donkey. There is always a donkey on the way.
Tasting all the stages, from the plant to the distillate, is like going through a story that doesn’t need to be explained.
Tlayuda
Thinking of "Mexican pizza" in Mexico is a conceptual error. Here, the tlayuda is something different. A thin base made of dried corn, spread with a bean cream and filled in various ways.
For dinner, I chose a tlayuda with avocado, Oaxacan cheese, and carne asada: a slice of beef and a grilled chorizo, all accompanied by a lightly carbonated amber beer. There are also vegetarian and seafood versions, but meat remains the most popular.
At the Oaxaca market, I learned that a sample will hardly be a great champion.
But if the day begins with restraint, then it can be done. And closing the ruta del mezcal with a tlayuda was exactly what was needed.
Chile
A day at the market cannot conclude without buying chili peppers. Classifying them would require the help of an encyclopedia: does it sting or not, and if it stings, does it sting a little or a lot? It’s not a matter of resistance, but of attitude.
I bought a bit of everything to taste these essential accessories of Mexican cuisine. Because here, chili is not just flavor. It is character, spirit, identity. It is the way Oaxaca teaches you to wait, to taste, to understand.
