
Peninsular Cuisine
A journey through the history of a Yucatecan chef
Enrique Ortiz MaySeptember 21, 20263 min read
Nine years have passed since my partner and I decided to leave behind the stability our jobs in Mérida represented, risking our assets on a project I had thought about extensively but had never dared to pursue. It was thanks to my older brother, who decided to put his trust in me and invest in the project, that we found the courage to leave our home and move to the city of Campeche.
At first, we were captivated by the calm that permeates the city, its clean streets, the distinctive charm of a walled city, and its impeccably preserved historic center. But when we arrived at the premises that would be our beginning, I couldn't help feeling fear for the first time in this venture. We had come to a property that was practically in ruins—a historic house that had unfortunately been neglected by several previous businesses. Nevertheless, the calm and the confidence in the project that my brother conveyed to me during that first visit encouraged us to continue.
The first thing we decided to do before launching the project was set out to visit different municipalities in Campeche to learn firsthand about the state's own cuisine. There, we discovered that despite their proximity, the cuisines of Yucatán and Campeche are very different: their recados vary in flavor from one kitchen to the next, and even the spices have a different intensity in this city. That was my first challenge: adapting to local products and beginning to build my network of “marchantas”—the women vendors who could supply me with the right ingredients for my cooking.
Campeche is rich in milpa and seasonal ingredients. For me, it was incredible to discover an entire range of new flavors and try to incorporate them into our menu. Visits to the main market became part of my daily routine, and over time I was able to learn which seasons were best for certain products and which products were subject to closed seasons. This posed a challenge with our diners, especially when it came to octopus, which can only be caught from September to December. We even launched advertising campaigns about the importance of respecting each product's season, and that just as we chefs have a responsibility not to buy these products, customers must also understand that they are equally responsible for not consuming them out of season.
Today, I'm glad to see more restaurants in Campeche also respecting closed seasons. We hope that, as a result, the seas can gradually recover from the depletion we have caused.
Today, those early days seem very distant, but to me it feels as if it were yesterday. We now have many more responsibilities—not only regarding the ingredients we use and how we manage our waste, but above all in making the most of it. At the same time, the restaurant has become recognized as one of the best in the state. We have received national and international recognition, and with that comes the pressure to maintain our standards and meet our customers' expectations. But we remain grounded. In this land of street criers, we now feel that we are part of it; we take it everywhere we are invited to cook and participate, whether in talks or collaborations. We want the whole world to know the wonders found in this hidden gem of the Gulf of Mexico.
Welcome to Campeche, and welcome to La María, Peninsular Cuisine.
Enrique A. Ortiz May / Merida, Yucatán


