Somebody recently asked me if I knew a place with a killer mole in La Phoenikera—you know, the kind that pleasures your tongue as if it were a one-night stand. I couldn’t make a suggestion, but luckily, enlightenment is one Google search away. I laser-focused on the “La 15 y Salsas” result, which was located by North Mountain Park. I had to try it.

Over my years in La Phoenikera, I’ve tried good moles and a few I had to chase down with a brewster. Many places are inconsistent, and others are a poor excuse compared to what I stuffed my face with at La 15. All I have to say is that I’m a newborn molero; my mole cherry was appropriately popped.

If you’re a purist like Elizabeth Hernández, owner of my new go-to place for mole, it’s almost sacrilegious to ask for a chicken tlayuda, as they’re only made with tasajo, cecina, or chorizo. Pinto beans are a no-no in Oaxacan cuisine; black beans are predominant, and their memelitas are not to be fried.

The misses clockwise: Miss molotes w/tatoes & shorizz; Miss flautas; Miss epazote & cheese empanadas; Miss memelitas w/black beans & Oaxacan quesillo.

Her apparent sassiness about her food is confusing because, in the restaurant industry, we’re programmed to believe that, as customers, we can alter recipes or demand changes because “the client is always right.” It’s pretty clear, though, that she’s not doing it to offend but to educate and represent the true Oaxacan culinary tradition.

Let’s back it up a bit…Wat the hell’s a tlayuda?

My cultural filter at first said a Mexican pizza, right? It’s the worst comparison, but it is the first thing that came to mind. After the first bite, I wanted to smack myself in the head for comparing the two. Lemme illustrate: an oversized corn tortilla cooked on a comal is topped with refried black beans, shredded Oaxaca cheese, a bed of lettuce, tomatoes, avocado, tasajo, cecina, or chorizo. It’s all your food groups in one huge meal. Adding a sampler plate with memelitas, empanadas, molotes, flautitas, and a pitcher of agua de chilacayote to this feast is one step closer to spiritual perfection.

In a perfect world, tlayudas would always be my option for pizza.

But wait, didn’t this start with mole? Let’s get back to that.

I learned by playing

Elizabeth tells me that her recipes come from her family. She remembers making tortillas with her mom and grandma or when they used to make the memelitas with refried black beans and cheese. Her grandma bought her a mini comal and metate at the market to teach her how to cook. “I learned by playing, watching my grandma, helping my mom, going to markets, and talking to the vendors about the different types of chiles and uses for the different ingredients,” Elizabeth says.

The never-ending mother-in-law/daughter-in-law war helped her broaden her culinary repertoire. That rivalry made her seek family members for recipes and ask about processes and secret ingredients. “In reality, there are no secret ingredients; the secret is how much love you put into making the food.” Her recipes are so good that her now ex-husband asks for them so his mom can cook them.

Making mole is laborious (no, we won’t be giving her recipe). Its execution requires several intrinsic steps so that all the flavors are balanced. “You have to clean the chiles, take out the veins and seeds, toast the chiles, toast some of the seeds but not burn them, broil some ingredients, fry, mill, and mix.” Simple enough…not!

Apparently, there are many kinds of mole. I thought it would be chill, get some molito action, and that was it, but I ended up with a bacchanal of tlayudas, memelitas, flautas, enmoladas, and four types of mole.

The dish on the right that is calling your attention is the enmoladas.

Heeeerrrrrre’s  Mol-e!

Red, yellow, and green to go with my Bolivian instinct and, of course, mole negro, since Elizabeth got me all worked up about it. There are plenty of mole variants in Mexico; choose a state. Only in Oaxaca, there are eight. (negro, verde, rojo, amarillo, coloradito, estofado, pipian y chichilo).

The difference between the flavors is abysmal, though unified by something. Or maybe I was high on mol-e. The green mole with pork is a subtle verdant paradise; the red one with chickin’ has awesome thick sauce but with less toasty accents than mole negro; yella was hella good! It had beef and reminded me a lot of barbacoa but with many other layers and subtleties (and veggies!!!). Black mole was king tho, it made my neurons high-five.

From top to bottom: Yella mole; Greenery mole; King Mole; Mole Cramoisi.

Cool, but could we get some background?

Elizabeth took over La 15 in 2012, and last year, she brought in Carlos Alcántara as partner, a cool dude from Bahías de Huatulco in Oaxaca. The idea came because of the need for Oaxacan products in the area and also as a way to keep connected to their roots.

“When we moved to Phoenix, I missed a lot of things from back home: my chile de agua, my quesillo, and a lot of ingredients that are essential to our food.”

Elizabeth is from Valles Centrales, specifically from Heroica Villa de San Antonino Castillo Velasco, Ocotlán, Oaxaca, México. She left a laundry and glassware business and migrated to the U.S. when her husband was offered a job in 2005.

Working for somebody else wasn’t her thing, and in 2012, she launched La 15 with just a few things on the menu. The first year was a dread, zero profit, and she had it hard: rescuing traditional cooking without modifying the original recipe comes at a cost, and in the beginning, guests wanted to change the dishes. According to Elizabeth, “some Oaxacan restaurants have changed their recipes trying to please everyone. Here, we don’t do that; that’s what makes us different.”

From now on, my aunt Elizabeth and uncle Carlos.

Her confidence in the recipes has shown results. La 15 is booming, and people no longer ask for mutant versions of her food.

Carlos, her business partner, is quick and witty, unbelievably humble, and gives all the credit to her cooking. His personality is perfect for his role in the business: he takes care of guests, deals with providers, and helps prep the food, though his main task is munching on it. “Oh yeah! That’s what I’m good at,” says Carlos while everybody at the table laughs.

La 15 sits in the perfect location for many Oaxacans living in the area. It’s basically Little Oaxaca in La Phoenikera, a place where people can close their eyes and taste their culture, at least for a little while, and where outsiders can learn to appreciate it.

Wait, did I say the mole was bomb digs?

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