Segundos Platos : Where to Eat, Drink, and Discover Baja’s Best Food

When I first moved here, I kept thinking about the early maps of this place, the ones where explorers drew the entire Baja Peninsula as an island. They got it wrong for years, not out of laziness, but because that is what it looked like from the water. You can only map the world from wherever you are standing.

I feel the same way about La Paz. Every time I think I understand the food scene here, I turn a corner and find something new. It is the blind man and the elephant all over again. You touch one part and think you know the whole shape, then you taste something different or walk into a place you did not see last week, and my understanding shifts again. I am still drawing mine. Still making corrections. And I am trying to maintain a Beginner’s Mindset while I do it.

Coffee First, Always

I would love to pretend I am superhuman, but let’s be real. Even I need a few soft landings in the morning after the way I have been eating and drinking my way through this city. Kapok is one of those places that provides that. The baristas are genuinely warm, none of the sarcastic Seattle energy I lived with for years, and the food comes out fresh and real in a way that makes sense here. I still miss DubSea, and Little Jaye will always be where Noelle and I had our first date, but Kapok has become a steady part of my mornings.

The whole place sits inside a garden that feels both intentional and loosely wild. Plants everywhere, soft corners, and two turtles who act like Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets if you sit near the pond long enough. It is quiet without being still, a space that gives the day a little stretch before it starts.

And then there is Gratitude. Some mornings need something with hustle, I need to jump into things, and Gratitude provides that. The drinks taste cared for, the space is steady, and it is one of the few places where I can read, write, or sit and come out more energized and connected than when I walked in. I was there recently for their anniversary, and the energy was something I want more of in my life. Young chefs, bakers, coffee people, creatives, all talking, all building something exciting here in La Paz. I felt a kind of reverence being in that room, a reminder that hospitality has shaped so much of my life, and that I want to stay close to people who are pushing it forward.

Mezcal cocktail at a speakeasy (shhhh!) photo credit Noelle Smithhart

Salud! Wine Bar

Salud! has become the place my app automatically tries to take me when I call a car. If you are coming to La Paz, by the way, do yourself a favor and download the local hero DiDi along with Uber. Uber exists, but you will see more drivers and faster service from DiDi.

The bar itself is small in the best way, intimate enough that conversations happen naturally even if you did not plan on talking to anyone. The room hums softly without ever tipping into loud. The owner, Chris (not me), pours his wines with an enthusiasm for Mexico and for what is produced here in Baja, pairing it with a strong knowledge of process and grapes that makes conversations with him genuinely enjoyable.

He or his genial staff have pointed me toward more restaurants, bars, and local makers than I can list, and a lot of what ends up in this blog started with a recommendation made over a glass of something good. If you are curious about the food and wine scene here, supporting Salud! is a great place to start.

I tend to show up here after a long day, when my brain needs to be coaxed into evening mode. It is not where I go to wrap things up. It is where I go to start fresh. The wine and the staff open the night up in a way I really like. I stay present here without even trying.

Birria Tijuas by my house

DIOSITO Art Club

DIOSITO Art Club feels like walking into an idea that is still taking shape in a very good way. You enter through a bright little gallery in front, the kind of space that feels designed to spark something, and then you step into a garden courtyard that feels like someone’s quiet dream of what an art space could be. Plants, candles, soft corners, the whole place carrying this sense of intention you can feel before you can name it.

My dinner there was lovely. A risotto that was rich without being heavy, a mezcal negroni mixed with confidence, and a vibe that leaned sophisticated without drifting into precious. They are still working a few things out, at least from what I have heard, but it is the kind of place where the potential is already visible. You can feel what they are reaching for.

What I found most compelling is the way Diosito seems designed to hold more than just a meal. It feels like a space meant for art and conversation and whatever happens when people who care about those things end up in the same courtyard at the same time. I left curious, which is the best reason to return. And I will.

La Mechuda Vermutería

La Mechuda Vermutería sits quietly on the street, up from the always busy and always reliable Claro Fish, kitty-corner from the skate park, and tucked behind the steady hum of Sushi Longer. It is a small, calm jewel just off the Malecón, the kind of placement that feels deliberate the moment you notice it.

I am pretty sure none of this is accidental. Mechuda feels designed to be that crack-in-the-sidewalk moment, where you step in from all the movement around it and suddenly find yourself in a smaller, brighter world with kind lighting and pintxos that know exactly what they are doing.

The night I went, two young Europeans were playing cards at a tiny table out front, the kind of casual scene that only works because the place invites it. No rush, no choreography, just two people living their evening. It was the perfect welcome into the room.

Inside, Mechuda is compact in the best way, a woman-run space with a clear point of view. Spanish-leaning tapas, vermouths from Mexico and Europe, their own house blend, and service that is warm without ever leaning into performance. You can feel the intention in every detail, like they built the exact bar they wanted to spend time in.

The food lands with that same intentional clarity. The fresh sardines over a tomato pomodoro crudo were bright and clean, the kind of dish that only works when the ingredients are excellent and the cook does not overwork it. The croquetas were excellent too, light and crisp with a balance that surprised me, even compared to a few I tried in Barcelona last fall.

They work out of a small open kitchen, and you can see just enough of the prep to know how much intention is behind it. Nothing rushed, nothing hidden, just a kind of quiet fluency in the way the food comes together. Watching them work made me want to come back before I had even finished eating. There is something reassuring about a place that knows exactly what it is doing and does it without noise.

La Mechuda Negroni y Sardinas

Back in the Kitchen

Somewhere between the contractors drifting in and out and the weather finally backing off a bit, the kitchen crossed this invisible line from job site to “okay, this actually works now.” No ceremony, no big reveal, just a running sink, usable counters, and enough working outlets to believe in it again.

The first time I cracked open fresh local eggs, yolks deep and bright, I realized how much I had missed being in front of the stove. Cooking here feels different. The ingredients are honest, and shopping turns into this small tour of the city: produce from the mercado, meat from a butcher who actually cares what he is handing you, dry goods from Chedraui, and a few surprises from wherever you stop next. I will get into all that soon in a separate post about where I have been shopping, it deserves its own space. And the beef here has its own character too, leaner and cleaner from the ranching states up north, with arrachera that cooks hot and fast and tastes like everyday Mexico. I have a lot more to learn, but every time I cook with it, the kitchen feels a little more like home.

cooking at home: Callo y epazote pesto con parmesano

Maduro, Still Saving It, Tiger Club, El Buen Bar, La Coyota

Ezequiel “Tato” Hernández was one of the chefs cooking at the Gratitude anniversary, and he offered me a few tastes of what he is building at Maduro. It was enough to make me want the whole experience. Baja Pacific crab chorizo, his tortillas, flavors that stopped me in the middle of conversation because they carried so much clarity in such small bites.

I promised Noelle I would wait until she is home before going in for a full meal, so Maduro stays on the save it for the right night list. After what I tasted, it is taking real restraint not to go early. I am excited for this one. In the meantime, I still make frequent stops to Tiger Club, El Buen Bar and La Coyota if I am going out!

Lemongrass cocktail at Tiger Club

iHay Mucho Mas!

If the first blog was about discovering the city, this one is about settling in. The cafés that anchor a morning. The wine bars that steady an evening. The vermutería that feels like its own little world. The kitchen that finally works, or at least works enough. The food that keeps surprising me. The places that may end up being part of how I live here.

This is the second taste, the part where La Paz starts to feel familiar without ever losing its ability to surprise.

If you are thinking about moving here, or you already live here part time and want to explore more, reach out. Let us get coffee or wine or dinner. If the kitchen holds, I might even cook.

And yes, I still get my beans at Café La Choya.