This Chef’s Cooking Tells the Story of Life on the US – Mexico Border

Self-described “border kid” Claudette Zepeda cooks with one foot in the U.S., one foot in Mexico — and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Credit: Photo by David Alvarado / Courtesy of Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of The Crown Publishing Group, A Division of Penguin Random House

There is a unique culture in the lands on either side of the line drawn in the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which divided Mexico and the U.S. The borderlands in both countries have always been home to beautiful tales of migration, immigration, resilient and often misunderstood people, and, of course, a shared love of food.

I have been a border kid for four decades, and I’ve cooked professionally for over half that time. So much of who I am is a result of where I was raised, moving seamlessly — daily — between San Diego, California, and Tijuana, Mexico. But I didn’t always know that was what made me who I am.

"My father loved going out to eat at Los Arcos in Tijuana. I still remember squirming in my seat with each passing bite, restless with excitement and anticipation of spotting the flambé cart making its way through the dining room for plátanos Foster — a riff on bananas Foster, the New Orleans classic — tableside. Maybe that’s where I became the kid who always wanted to order dessert for the whole table (and still does)."

Claudette Zepeda

For the first decade of my career, I thought, like many immigrants do, that if I was going to find any kind of success, I needed to push where my family was from as far back in my mind as possible. Then, in 2014, I took a life-altering trip to Marrakech, Morocco. It was my first time abroad. I saw the matriarchs at the markets; I saw the different religions and cultures colliding yet coexisting. I smelled meat grilling over wood and saw kids playing soccer in the middle of the market halls. And suddenly, seven thousand miles away from home, I tasted the air, closed my eyes, and saw myself back in Tijuana. Why, I wondered, did I have to travel all the way to Africa to find this sense of home?

Related: Claudette Zepeda Learned English From 'Mr. Bean' and Cooking From Julia Child — Now She’s Writing Her Own Story

Claudette Zepeda as a child (center) with brothers Alex (left) and Miguel (right) in Jalisco.
Credit: Courtesy of the Zepeda Family

My aunt Lorenza told me shortly after: “Your motherland will always call you home — but you don’t get to choose how the message arrives.” I returned to the U.S. with a fire in my belly to understand myself as a first-generation Mexican American: one raised as a Mexican daughter in California, with a life that took me back and forth across the border. 

I have dedicated the last decade-plus to the cultural and culinary anthropology of Mexico and its immigrants: the who, what, and whys of our food world. Now, I want to take you on a journey to California’s borderlands, where I grew up — to Tijuana, Ensenada, Mexicali, and Calexico — on the westernmost end of the U.S.-Mexico border. 

Claudette Zepeda as a child (left) with her brothers in Tijuana for Christmas.
Credit: Courtesy of the Zepeda Family

You may be surprised to find that many recipes from Mexicali and Calexico are heavily influenced by Chinese cuisine. During the 19th century, westward expansion in the United States required labor on the railroads and in the mines. Asian immigrants were a fast-growing immigrant group in that time period, arriving to the region for the promise of work and bringing with them customs, food, and ingredients.

Many made the 120-mile journey from coastal Ensenada inland to Mexicali, to join the Colorado River Land Company, on foot. For a time, La Chinesca in Mexicali became the largest Chinatown in Mexico, home in the 1920s to 10,000 Chinese residents (and just 700 Mexicans). Today, this place is still deeply influenced by Chinese culture and food. My black bean–garlic skirt steak with asparagus honors that marriage of cultures.

By the 1970s, when my mother’s family moved to Tijuana permanently, you could see the global influence from many different cultures on the city, which was home to Italian, Russian, Chinese, and Japanese restaurants. Tijuana has a unique ability to welcome cultures from all over the world and bring them into our fold — and this is especially true of the culinary landscape. Baja California Norte (north) and Sur (south) continue to inspire countless young chefs and fill the void in every tourist’s hungry stomach. 

"Every seafood truck in Baja sells grilled shrimp-and-cheese tacos, affectionately called “the governor’s tacos.” Tacos gobernador originated in the city of Mazatlán in Sinaloa, invented by a chef at Los Arcos restaurant in the late 1980s to serve to the then-governor of the state. They were a hit and quickly became popular, and the name stuck as a tribute. "

Claudette Zepeda

The border is often a huge topic in politics and the media, but in many cases, it’s used as a pawn in a political game, invoked by powerful people to paint an unjust picture and reinforce a narrative that serves their interests. The reality is that for most border towns, a wall does not create or protect life — it takes away from it. In fact, border communities have long depended on the exchange of people and business from both sides of the border.

If you are anything like me, and if what you read inspires you to learn more, go to these places yourself and eat directly from their kitchens. Then I’ll have achieved what I set out to do.

Credit: Courtesy of Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of The Crown Publishing Group, A Division of Penguin Random House

From the book COOKING THE BORDERLANDS: Spice and Smoke Between Mexico and the States by Charlotte Zepeda. Text copyright © 2026 by Claudette Zepeda. Photographs copyright © 2026 by David Alverado. Published in the United States by Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. 

Related: Pati Jinich Is So Grateful to Be Mexican and American

* This article was originally published here