The Food as Art dinner series, hosted on the rooftop of The Aster, invites world-renowned chefs to craft a temporary pop-up tasting menu. One of Food as Art’s featured chefs, Alvaro Clavijo, head chef of Bogota’s El Chato, currently ranked the 33rd best restaurant in the world, experimented with the limits of Colombian cuisine during his two-day residency at the series. Global in approach and borrowing from many culinary traditions, including Sri Lankan, Jamaican, and Spanish, Clavijo’s dishes are a dizzying fusion: yucca leaves were fermented like kimchi to garnish a Maine lobster, and his bearnaise was made with hormiga culona (literally, a big-ass ant). The more you considered any one dish, the more traces of the entire world you could find, and national distinctions eroded.

Working alongside these eminent chefs throughout the series, Brett Wyman, a brand ambassador for the single-malt scotch Mortlach, created cocktails that riff on their playful tasting menus. For example, Clavijo brought his house-made blackberry butter to Los Angeles, which inspired Wyman to mix drinks with blackberry simple syrup, akin to a cheong. At Food as Art, scotch is not merely taken neat and sipped slowly alongside gratuitous puffs from a hefty cigar, but given a dynamism. Purists may turn away petrified, but these cocktails, in response to each chef’s experiments, are usually riffs on bourbon drinks – for example, transforming the Boulevardier by replacing bourbon with scotch and infusing Campari with red beets to lessen its medicinal quality. Mortlach’s innovative and peatless scotch makes this drink function: aged in ex-bourbon casks charred to re-caramelize its sugar, their scotch is undeniably sweet, with a heavy influence of caramel notes and a fruity brightness.

Relative to most pop-ups, Food as Art operates at a rapid pace and a condensed timeline, hosting only a two-day series every few months. Even Wyman, who previously curated the drinks for New York restaurateur Danny Meyer’s rotating pop-up, Intersect by Lexus, found the chaos before opening to be exceptional. Chefs fly in and quickly have to learn what is in season, rapidly develop relationships with farmers and fishermen, and begin experimenting. Research can only go so far: in Los Angeles, the season of certain vegetables may be delayed due to unfavorable weather conditions, and the chef must find a new assortment of fresh produce. The menu is created there, on the spot, not from afar.

And yet, despite the whirlwind pace and difficulty of research, the resulting dishes can only be considered art. For example, Moroccan chef Najat Kaanache boldly elevated zaalouk, a cooked eggplant and tomato salad, with monkfish and red caviar, salmon roe’s saltier and more complex counterpart. Chef Clavijo served a beautiful Colombian-inspired dessert, a ganache with lemongrass and mambe, a powder made from coca leaves commonly consumed by Northwest Amazonian tribes. Food is transformed from sustenance to experience – dishes are so ornately presented, with pops of contrasting colors and textures, that you almost feel guilty eating them.

What does it mean – for food to be art? Is food a performance, an experience, or mere sustenance? Perhaps it defies such distinction: the goal of these nights, after all, is to create an unforgettable moment, at once ephemeral but immortalized in sensory memory. During chef Kaanache’s pop-up, diners wrote down wishes for the chef to bless. The dinner attempted to rekindle magic, to make food mystical, and to inspire wonder again.

Food as Art’s next event will take place this December when Jaime Pesaque of Lima’s Mayta comes to Hollywood. His work can only be described as boundary-pushing and obsessive: an onion tart with a touch of peanut, delicate preparations of the 10-foot-long paiche fish, and house-distilled liqueurs. On the horizon is Elena Reygadas, head chef of Mexico City’s Rosetta and Panadería Rosetta. Known for her guava and ricotta rolls, her food already resides at the intersection between Mexican and Italian cuisine, with dishes such as al pastor steak tartare or fresh tagliolini with epazote and serrano chiles on her menus. There’s no telling how far she will continue to push the boundaries of this synthesis while maintaining a profound respect for Mexican ingredients. Watch this space, daring culinary explorations await us.

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Narciso Novogratz is a freelance writer currently living in New York.

“Sent from God.” That is how Mia Carucci signs off emails. As our interview began, she asserted, “I make God music.” On the surface, her music, a modern twist on trip-hop, hypnotic and dark, lacks an overtly spiritual valence. But spirituality appears in her music beyond any institution. There is no prescribed ritual; instead, the divine is immanent. God is to be found in nature, everywhere.

“I don’t pray on my knees looking upwards. I pray at eye level.” Carucci believes in transcendence, in the notion of God existing above and naturally within all creation throughout the world, and applies this to her performances. Carucci discussed the possibility of eliminating the stage, being on the same level as the audience, and situating herself in the center as everyone dances and circulates around her. She views this relationship as “a still force with the chaos around me,” an explosion outwards. She is against hierarchy, the anti-pop star; instead, fashioning herself as a kind of spiritual leader, attempting to facilitate a communal experience of the divine.

For Carucci, music liberates. Starting out as a DJ, she used music to let people encounter their animalistic side and to operate through instinct. As she puts it, “I hope to reconnect people to the side of themselves they lost in childhood.” Before language-mediated the world, we just felt, with our mind freely roaming – that is the mindset Carucci ventures towards. There is a purity and simplicity; Carucci tries to find what she considers the essence of music. As a result, Carucci’s tracks are born from the drum: a thumping bass like a heartbeat, and tantric breaks that waver in reverb, hypnotically entering and leaving the mix.

But unlike the club, where release must be immediate, and as Carucci laments, people expect climax within the first minute, she employs what she calls a “cinematic approach.” Focused more on the construction of a sonic atmosphere, Carucci displays restraint. This inhibition is most apparent in the track “The God in You,” where, on the verge of release, of transforming build-up into catharsis, she pulls back and lingers in an ambient soundscape full of hums. The song perpetually threatens to develop, but the track does not lead to a singular moment of climax, but a swirling back and forth between kinetic drums and abstract noise.

Featuring many industrial elements –with crunchy drums, aggressive synths, and even a woodchipper drenched in reverb – Carucci balances these mechanical elements with field recordings. Carucci claims “there is music in all sounds,” and gleans inspiration from “streams, coquí frogs in the night, and trees falling.” She even breaks down the industrial and natural distinction I attempted to make. Carucci discussed being affected by a mechanical symphony, where electric machines, drills, and saws come together to create musical cacophony with these brief moments of harmony. There is an odd naturalism. These machines seem ignorant of their human audience but produce music when listened to – their beauty is to be unearthed. Carucci finds, like God, music everywhere, not tied to traditional instruments, but music as it appears from the Earth.

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Second only to the English trip-hop collective Massive Attack, where she was nearly reduced to speechlessness upon meeting their producer, Cameron McVey, nature seems to be her biggest inspiration. She communes with animals, and birds chirped throughout the interview. Living with various “creatures,” a few dogs, a tortoise, and some frogs, Carucci showed me her serpent’s shed skin. Displaying the translucent, curled-up scales, she said, “We shed together.” When she is at peace, her serpent has a clean shed – this month, with the release of her new album, Carucci and the snake shed early. They mirror each other, and they respond to each other. After all, the animalistic centers in her creative process: she focuses on instinct, claiming, “What comes from the gut is from God.”

Like instinct, she respects what exists beyond reason, the things we cannot see, and hopes to inspire a “reverence for the unknown and intangible world.” Her practice, in a way, derives from Amazonian religious fusions, these syncretisms between African, Indigenous, and European relations to divinity. For Carucci, the musical and spiritual traditions are inseparable. She frequented São Paulo as a child, dancing samba, dressed in sequins and feathered headdresses, preparing for Carnival, a festival ostensibly marking the beginning of Lent but using Afro-Brazilian rhythms and concepts from Indigenous clothing. As with Carucci, music, dance, and spirituality are all one.

Mia Carucci’s upcoming album, “Deities in Stone,” released on all streaming services on November 8th. Listen to it like Carucci. Go into the dark, light some candles, lie down, and feel the presence of spirits.

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Narciso Novogratz is a freelance writer currently living in New York.

Miss Benny was meant to play the gender nonconforming character Marco Mejía in the Netflix series Glamorous, a role tailor-made for her: an ex-beauty Youtuber starring as a beauty influencer. The part changed as she changed, each simultaneously discovering their gender identity. The role helped liberate Miss Benny — she did not conform to the character but grew with it, stating in an interview with The New York Times, “I was met with the encouragement to be myself and let my full femininity shine.” Considering the ongoing SAG-AFTRA strikes, we were unable to directly talk about Glamorous. Instead, interviewing Miss Benny, we encountered a raw artist, a pop star who uses music to understand themself in all of their dizzying complexity.

Her recent EP Swelter was released alongside Glamorous in what can only be described as a personal paradigm shift — career success coinciding with publicly coming out as a transgender woman. In both ways, a return to the public eye, undergoing essentially “a second puberty” through hormone replacement therapy, she privately transitioned for a few years, eventually overcoming her fears to live in her truth for all to see.

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Listening to Swelter, this sense of becoming is unavoidable. Far from, as Them put it, the “teenage, edgy, sex-kitten party” animal that defined her previous work, Miss Benny finds herself in the throes of heartbreak. The lightheartedness is replaced by something deeper than despair, a sadness that can only be expressed through heavy guitars and drum breakdowns, an unexpected veering into pop-punk.

This newfound style is most apparent in the track “My Ex Just Fell in Love,” where, over a kinetic and straightforward drum beat, she captures intimate nostalgia, singing, “Do you still recall the way we used to smell? / If you came across it would you know it well? / ‘Cause I still remember, of course, I remember / Do you still remember? How could you forget us?” As you probe into Swelter one only finds rawness, a shocking vulnerability, unsurprising considering Miss Benny approached this album as a therapeutic practice, a way to process the overwhelming torment of a lost love. Furthermore, beginning the album in quarantine, unable to have her “party-girl moments,” she was forced into a state of introspective creation, a “hermit” who wrote, produced, and recorded every track, scorning her previous persona and giving her fans “a behind-the-scenes view.” Swelter is Miss Benny as she is.

This description, however, needlessly paints a gloomy picture of Miss Benny — outside of this severe heartbreak, she has found community and reconciled with a past that once scorned her. Moving out from a “religious and macho” Texan household at fourteen, I was shocked to hear that her mother is now a supportive friend, between them what Miss Benny called a “hard-earned relationship.”

Miss Benny opened up about a difficult yet rewarding conversation with her mother, where she described dysphoria as “having your nose plugged,” claiming, “You don’t realize you are experiencing gender dysphoria until you realize that what you have always experienced is gender dysphoria.” She remembers the shock of her mother listening to her, not rejecting this analogy but seeking to understand, and Miss Benny feeling the joy of receiving acceptance and curiosity.

Miss Benny notes that parents today, not just her mom, are becoming more supportive of their queer children, mentioning, “I used to get messages from my peers [looking for support], but now it is their parents.” While gender-affirming care and trans safety are still under constant threat in this country, Miss Benny notes this shifting impetus by some parents to understand and to “learn about their kids as individuals.”

During her adolescence, Miss Benny remembers isolation, only finding vestiges of community online and moments of queer joy on Youtube. Then, as now, Miss Benny created music to understand herself, to process the un-processable. Reminiscing on her first viral hit, “Little Game,” its music video defined through a strict gender binary, a world of pink and blue, with Miss Benny peering at the other side, feeling too constrained by the masculine, she said, “You know yourself better than you think you do.” At the time, discovering her own queerness, unaware of her trans-ness, Miss Benny revealed, “It was so clear that I was crying out to be recognized for the fact I was experiencing something that was not connected to what I was told to experience.”

Miss Benny sees “Little Game” as an “earnest, sweet, and pure depiction of where [she] was at 14,” and Swelter finds her a decade later, grappling with her emotions. Each song is a delicate portrait. There are no inhibitions, no considerations of what others think, just a process of self-discovery. This impetus towards authenticity has been central to Miss Benny’s becoming, finally harmonizing her public and private identities. Growing up, one of her chief revelations — attempting to settle away from home, estranged from her past — was that “the more I was authentically myself, the more I found people in my life who were special to me.”

Throughout her career, Miss Benny was told by managers to avoid authenticity, that is, to “be as ambiguous as possible,” hiding her identity to maximize the roles she can play — and yet, here she is, unabashedly herself, coming into her own. Miss Benny not only owns her identity as a transgender Latina artist, she has arrived.

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Narciso Novogratz is a freelance writer currently living in New York.

Reinvention defined Rebecca Black Was Here, the 2021 EP by Mexican-American pop star Rebecca Black. No longer was she the 13-year-old mocked for “Friday;” rising from the ashes of social media ridicule as she asserted herself as an artist. After this public reappraisal, the completion of her so-called redemption arc, people who listened to her bittersweet yet danceable ballads could no longer write her off as a dead meme searching to relive its fleeting moment in the limelight.

With her newest album release Let Her Burn, Black moves beyond a narrative of redefinition and redemption. Divorced from “Friday,” she approaches her music with great maturity, unsurprising for the now 25-year-old. Reflecting on the album’s lead single, “Crumbs,” Black told LATINA, “[Crumbs] was a touchier subject than I’d ever gotten into before. It’s a song about sexuality and sensuality, and, you know, finding your own place within a relationship with somebody.” She added that the song is ultimately about “internal discovery” and poses the questions, ‘Where do you feel comfortable with your sensuality? Where does your dominance live? Where does your submissiveness live?’” Heartbreak weaves through Let Her Burn but on “Crumbs,” love is brutally distorted. Light-hearted intimacy is replaced by a gripping, unconditional infatuation that casts an addictive, self-destructive spell.

The metaphorically dense and visually dark music video for “Crumbs” is a far cry from Black’s previous internet-entrenched work. Instead of sharing a convertible with a troupe of troll faces or satirically acting as a bimbo with a glimmering tiara and “muppet-like” breasts, in “Crumbs,” Black is caressed by anonymous gloved hands and finds herself tied up. However, Black has not divorced herself from levity. After all, she is a pop star. Indebted to hyperpop, this ironic and abrasive re-appropriation of the supposedly vapid, garish, saccharine, and overly autotuned electronic music of the late aughts, Black sees herself pushing her sound forward into a more emotionally honest place. Even as Black performs as a leather-clad surgeon with glistening glass nails, turning the medical theater into a runway, the surgery itself is an operation on her own body. Introspection and emotional vulnerability exist alongside Black’s impossible glamor. Even when she performs, she probes deep.

This sense of honesty, this unveiled self-assertion, is central to the sound of Let Her Burn. Although Black taps into many aesthetics, sourcing from everywhere, whether New Jack Swing, Industrial Rock, or 2-Step, the album is coherent in vision. Each sound, however disparate, is wrapped up in her dark, maximalist, world. Black describes her sound as “fully fleshed out” and “in this drama-based world,” and listeners may find themselves wrapped up in her ornate sonic universe, whether it be the underbelly of murky bass lines or the open expanses of nearly orchestral synth-lines. Throughout, there is a sense of otherworldliness. Black melts in and locates herself within each track, each of which took months of meticulous experimentation and revision. She is never awkwardly placed, lost singing atop a drum-and-bass break like a knock-off Pink Pantheress; instead, Black adds a crunchy, heavy metal lick, chanting, “Go ahead destroy me, destroy me,” the song exploding under this angsty yet danceable catharsis, where the listener can only violently purge and let loose. On Let Her Burn, Black is always at home, present as herself.

In her experience, Black has found that her identity as a Latina artist can set her up for certain expectations and limitations. She explained “when the industry finds out you’re Mexican, they’re like, ‘Where’s the Hispanic music? Where’s the reggaeton? Let’s make the song in Spanish.’” Although she has collaborated with Latino artists and worked on bilingual tracks, Black does not relate to her heritage in the same way other Latin artists do. She did not grow up speaking fluent Spanish, and does not want to capitalize on that element of her identity.

To do so, for Black, would be to “caricature herself,” an action she views as disempowering to the Latino community, one which pigeonholes and, in her case, leads to an inauthentic expression of herself. For Black, the question is not how she can transform herself into the perfectly marketable Latina but “how, being a Mexican artist, can I understand myself and what it means to be myself?” Black, in her words, wants to make a name for Mexican heritage in all kinds of music; she compares her foray into electropop with Omar Apollo’s self-discovery through indie pop.

Black’s queer identity, too, has been a place of self-discovery. Even though she only recently came out as queer, Black has found herself feeling like an unworthy representative of the community. She approaches her queerness with humility, wanting to use her platform for good, but “not trying to speak for the entire community.” Black has worked silently with groups such as GLAAD, fighting for inclusive LGBTQ+ representation in media. She takes a quiet approach with her advocacy work, which seems to be at odds with her persona, that is, her ethereal, charismatic power on-stage. But off-stage she burns differently, her presence is warm: Black embodies kindness.

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Rebecca Black will be on tour throughout North America from May 4th to May 20th, performing in Brooklyn, Los Angeles, and Chicago, among other cities. Tickets can be found here.

From Mexico to Chile, films centered on queer narratives have had a long and complicated journey into mainstream cinema. Censorships, politics and prejudice are all obstacles for the the genre, particularly in Latin America, where LGBTQ+ individuals are largely underrepresented in all media.

In this list, we’ve selected six films that highlight the queer experience in Latin communities and how Latin America’s political and societal divisions play into these experiences.

Y Tú Mamá También (2001)

“Y Tú Mamá También” follows two teenage boys and an older woman driving throughout Mexico on a journey of sexual self-discovery and actualized desire. Alfonso Cuarón delivers a portrait that illustrates the spirit of unbridled youth. He brilliantly captures the freedom of summer and the playfulness of eroticism, while simultaneously scrutinizing the class inequities of Mexico in the early 2000s. But, more than anything, “Y Tú Mamá También” is a raw coming-of-age story, teeming with sexuality and wide-eyed lust for the future.

Available to stream on: Amazon and iTunes.

Una Mujer Fantástica (2017)

This film centers on the struggles of a transgender woman living in Santiago, seeking to gain acceptance and recognition in a world rife with transphobia. Throughout the film, the protagonist receives the treatment of a second-class citizen. She is constantly misgendered and even barred from grieving the death of a romantic interest. Shot in various styles of cinematography, at times terrifyingly realistic, others surreal, “Una Mujer Fantástica” tenderly and poetically sketches this sense of grief and estrangement.

Available to stream on: Amazon and iTunes.

Fresa y Chocolate (1993)

Set in Cuba under Castrist rule, a hypermasculine political regime led by Fidel Castro that persecuted members of the LGBTQ community and censored dissident artists, “Fresa y Chocolate” details the story of a gay artist and a spy. Within this story of deceit and confusion, this film explores the complicated process of reconciliation: political extremes convene, and enemies become friends.

Available to stream on: Youtube.

Happy Together (1997)

Directed by Hong Kong-based filmmaker Wong Kar-wai, “Happy Together” relates the story of a couple drifting in and out of love, violently and languidly, while visiting and eventually overstaying in Argentina. In a film full of intimate embraces, sultry tangos, and solitary tears, Kar-wai explores the pains and joys of both love and alienation with aching beauty.

Available to stream on: Criterion and HBO Max.

Retablo (2017)

This film displays a relationship between father and son — once defined through their shared craft of devotional tableaus — jeopardized when the son encounters his father in an illicit sexual encounter with another man. “Retablo” is a film that gracefully depicts absence and silence. This film beautifully displays what is invisible on the surface, exploring themes of secrecy, internalized shame, and the implicit existence of homophobia.

Available to stream on: Amazon, Tubi, Kanopy, Youtube, and iTunes.

The Way He Looks (2014)

“The Way He Looks” tells the coming-of-age story of a blind Brazilian teen. It is a narrative of untainted love, where affection lacks the pressures of stress and isolation. The central, relatable relationship is, in a word, heartwarming, with each scene between them pure and delicate. Like its most memorable image, that of two boys smiling and riding a bike into the sunset, “The Way He Looks” almost overwhelms you with its beauty.

Available to stream on: Amazon, Kanopy, and iTunes.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (2022)

Based on the acclaimed novel by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe” follows the transformative journey of two Mexican-American boys in 1987 El Paso. The film captures their bond as they navigate identity, family, and love. Through the lens of Aristotle and Dante’s evolving relationship, the film explores the complexities of self-discovery and acceptance with poignant sensitivity and youthful tenderness.

Available to stream on: Amazon Prime, Apple TV, and Google Play.

I Carry You with Me (2020)

“I Carry You with Me” is a heartfelt blend of documentary and narrative storytelling, chronicling the true story of Iván and Gerardo, whose love affair spans decades and countries. Directed by Heidi Ewing, the film starts in Mexico and follows the couple’s journey as they face societal barriers and the challenges of immigration. It beautifully captures the sacrifices and enduring love that define their relationship, presenting a deeply personal narrative with universal resonance.

Available to stream on: Starz, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and Apple TV.

Cassandro (2023)

Directed by Roger Ross Williams, “Cassandro” tells the real-life story of Saúl Armendáriz, a gay amateur wrestler from El Paso who rises to international stardom after creating the flamboyant character Cassandro. The film delves into themes of identity, resilience, and the breaking of traditional gender norms in the world of lucha libre. With a performance that is as powerful as it is tender, “Cassandro” showcases the transformative power of embracing one’s true self.

Available to stream on: Amazon Prime, Apple TV, and Google Play.

Extra Terrestres (2016)

Directed by Carla Cavina, “Extra Terrestres” is a Puerto Rican-Venezuelan sci-fi drama that centers on Teresa, an astrophysicist who returns to her conservative family in Puerto Rico after many years away. The film artfully intertwines themes of identity, familial expectations, and hidden truths, exploring the tensions that arise when personal secrets come to light. “Extra Terrestres” captivates with its delicate balance of scientific wonder and human emotion.

Available to stream on: Amazon Prime and YouTube.

The Fish Child (2009)

Directed by Lucía Puenzo, “The Fish Child” is an Argentinian-Uruguayan thriller that tells the story of Lala, a young girl from a wealthy Buenos Aires family, and her maid, Ailin. As their secret love affair is threatened by societal norms and a tragic incident, they plan to escape to Ailin’s hometown in Paraguay. This film masterfully blends romance and suspense, exploring themes of class disparity, forbidden love, and the quest for freedom.

Available to stream on: Amazon Prime, Google Play, and YouTube.

Suddenly (2002)

Diego Lerman’s “Suddenly” is an Argentine drama that follows the unexpected journey of Marcia, a timid lingerie salesgirl, who is abducted by two punkish young women, Mao and Lenin. As they travel across Argentina, what begins as a forced adventure gradually transforms into a profound exploration of freedom, friendship, and self-discovery. The film’s raw, intimate style captures the spontaneous beauty and vulnerability of human connections.

Available to stream on: Amazon Prime, Tubi, and Kanopy.

Updated on June 11th, 2024

“You’re going to see a Latin America that nobody has seen before because it’s the real Latin America.”

The latest season of “La Reina del Sur” exalts Latin American natural beauty. Action packed-scenes take place in the sublime mountain landscapes of Machu Picchu. Teresa Mendoza even ends up at the Uyuni Salt Flats in Bolivia, where the sky is reflected in the ground, creating a stunning mirrored effect. Every scene is beautiful, with long shots harkening more to Hollywood than a traditional Telemundo program.

Although “La Reina del Sur” was initially based on Arturo Perez-Reverte’s novel, it has progressed from its original narcos narrative. The first season, indebted to the book, traced the ascendance of Teresa Mendoza within the drug-trafficking world as she deals with the death of her boyfriend, and uses her business acumen to seize control of international drug supply chains. The following season picks up eight years later when Mendoza is forced back into the drug world, in order to save her kidnapped daughter.

This third riveting season resumes after four years, and we find Teresa Mendoza imprisoned, once more with the expressed goal of reuniting with her daughter. After years of incarceration, del Castillo describes her character as now powered by a “thirst for revenge;” Mendoza is a “warrior” on a journey towards “survival, redemption, and freedom.”

This status as a warrior, this powerful female character, delineates a stark departure from traditional depictions of women in narcos narratives. Instead of being cast as protagonists, women traditionally play sexualized and subservient characters who revolve around and gain power from their transactional relationships with a powerful, hypermasculine drug lord. But in “La Reina del Sur,” Kate del Castillo told LATINA, “She’s not a sexualized character; she is all brains.” Seen in prison, boxing with unbridled rage and passion, her power derives from both a psychological and physical strength, a determination to mend the injustices she has faced.

At times, it is easier to define “La Reina del Sur” by explaining what it is not. “La Reina del Sur” is not a traditional narcos narrative. The third season of “La Reina del Sur” is not what the show used to be, moving on from its drug-trafficking roots, showing a new side of Teresa Mendoza, focusing more on her role as a mother and her recovery from victimization. Lastly, “La Reina del Sur” is definitely not a telenovela. Despite being a Spanish-language show, del Castillo clarifies: “It’s a completely different format.” Listing the distinctions between “La Reina del Sur” and a telenovela, del Castillo mentions improvements in storytelling, budget, and brevity. Gone is the melodrama, the copious flashbacks, and the various slow-motion angles that drag out action sequences. Instead of an “100 to 300 episode” standard length season commonly found in telenovelas, “La Reina del Sur” has seasons of only 60 episodes, which may seem long to an American audience, but none of the episodes are disposable. Each second of runtime matters. Del Castillo suggested viewing them not as TV episodes but as “60 little movies.”

Thanks to the show’s unprecedented commercial success, being the highest-rated show in its time slot, regardless of language, “La Reina del Sur” has received an increased budget for the third season. With such funding, comparable to any Netflix production, the scale of the show has increased tremendously. The show was shot in six countries and over 300 locations. Beyond just the global expansion of the setting, the spectacle has increased: helicopters, police invasions, rocket launchers, and skydiving flood the screen with visual marvels.

For del Castillo, this season was the hardest yet to film. This fact is nothing less than shocking, considering del Castillo received medical treatment for exhaustion during the first season. After weeks of successive 18-hour shoots, production had to halt for three days because her body collapsed. The difficulty del Castillo faced when filming the latest season reflected the show’s ambition: she found herself working with an 870-person crew throughout Latin America.

When one considers del Castillo’s stunning depiction of Teresa Mendoza, it is hard to escape comparing their lives. After her infamous interaction with El Chapo in 2015, where they supposedly discussed turning his life story into a film, the Mexican government heavily criticized del Castillo, leading to the leaking of her texts with the drug lord. Ultimately, this led to an unofficial exile, where she could not return to Mexico for multiple years, waiting for an administrative change. She, like Teresa, has had the experience of exile. Furthermore, considering her interaction with El Chapo, she has had unprecedented access to the obfuscated narcotics underworld, and has a contentious relationship with the government.

But more pertinent in her life offscreen is del Castillo’s dedication to justice and activism. Encountering the impossibility of fixing every single problem in the world, Kate del Castillo tells LATINA, “We’re not God; we cannot do everything. I think you have to maintain your focus in whatever […] you know is in your gut to help.” As of late, she has run many campaigns for PETA, working to expose horrific ethical transgressions. Some of her recent campaigns expose the realities of monkey abductions, highlight the shocking post-Blackfish deaths of many orcas in SeaWorld, promote the adoption of rescued and shelter animals, and fight against the fur industry.

Del Castillo also speaks out regularly regarding abuse against women. She has spoken up about her own experience of physical domestic abuse, and participated in campaigns that hope to raise awareness on how people can overcome trauma. Like Teresa Mendoza, del Castillo exemplifies strength and individual triumph. She champions a spirit of survival, of moving beyond victimhood into a place of empowerment and agency.

In between filming these seasons, del Castillo starred in the play “The Way She Spoke,” which criticizes gender-based violence in Mexico. Regarding her experience preparing for the show, del Castillo shares, “I feel ashamed about my country because suddenly nobody cares about La Muertas de Juarez.” Her play attempted to highlight these forgotten injustices, specifically the murder of more the 370 women between the years 1993 and 2005. In 2016, three years before the play, a narcofosa, a mass grave resulting from narcos violence, was found in the state of Chihuahua, containing the numerous remains of female victims.

According to del Castillo, “[This play was] the biggest challenge in my career as an actor.” It was performed in English, not her native Spanish, and throughout the play, she starred as fourteen different characters. As a result, the show’s success was contingent on the quality of her performance. She had to embody characters and switch psychologies on a whim, a task that stretched her limits as an actress and sent her into spirals of artistic insecurity. Despite this overwhelming artistic burden, del Castillo succeeded. Every single night for six weeks, she received a standing ovation.

And with this renewed acting prowess, del Castillo takes on the latest season of “La Reina del Sur,” which will air on Telemundo on Tuesday, October 18th at 9pm EST. Simply put, expect greatness. Expect a mind-blowing performance from Kate del Castillo. Expect to be utterly enthralled over the course of its 60 episodes.

Before going to Cosme, I never doubted the efficacy of food writing. I thought it was possible to describe flavor, to capture it with the cincture of language. But as I had a bite of Cosme’s corn husk meringue, I was struck by its overwhelming density of flavor. Within the luscious and subtle sweetness, there was the purest essence of corn, and I encountered the futility of the word.

I had read restaurant reviews to prepare myself for Cosme’s famous dessert, trying to conceptualize the “vegetal sting” and the dish’s balance of crunch and silkiness but was left in disbelief as I finally tasted the meringue. The dessert was the actualization of corn, and responsible in large part is Masienda, a brand dedicated to sustainably farming heirloom corn varieties. And it’s not only at Cosme — the brand provides corn for numerous fan-favorite restaurants, such as For All Things Good and Atla in New York and Frontera Grill in Chicago. Masienda’s founder Jorge Gaviria’s secret is simple: “We are an entire supply chain built on integrity and the pursuit of integrity.”

The genesis of Masienda? An overheard conversation at a dinner party. Jorge Gaviria, then a chef under Dan Barber at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, was checking coats for a one-off culinary event at the restaurant, where various trailblazers in the culinary community were in attendance. The topic of discussion was how to source for quality instead of efficiency and yield.

This principle defines the mission of Blue Hill. Sourcing their ingredients from their in-house farm, Blue Hill maximizes taste by centralizing biodiversity, organic agricultural practices, and fresh ingredients. Their actions and philosophy were developed in response to the rising industrialization of food, to the trends which have compromised taste, nutrition, public health, and environmental sustainability but have also broadened food access.

Soon after this event, in 2014, Jorge Gaviria took the lesson to heart: great food needs even better ingredients. He flew down to Oaxaca, and on this research trip, Gaviria realized that he had only known one type of corn, American sweet corn. In Oaxaca, he tasted a variety of corn that, due to its beta carotene, had orange kernels and tasted like butternut squash. One hour later, just miles down the road, Gaviria had a piece of creamy white corn that had, as he described, “less expression, but a beautiful texture.”

The varieties of corn that he tasted astonished him and presented an opportunity. He compares this revelation to another culinary commodity, coffee. In Gaviria’s eyes, corn was destined to follow coffee’s three waves, the path from a neglected product of mass consumption to developing a small and dedicated level of niche connoisseurship.

As a result, Masienda works with small-scale, sustainable farmers in Mexico. Instead of using industrial techniques, these farmers are indebted to environmentally-responsible indigenous agricultural practices, specifically the Aztec milpa system. At its most basic level, the milpa system is a symbiotic intercropping system where corn is grown alongside nitrogen-fixing beans and squash, which prevent weed growth and climb the corn to support leaf growth. This mutually beneficial relationship results in nutrient-filled soil, thus fantastic flavor.

But Masienda is not solely fixated on the preservation of traditional agricultural systems. They do not want to control farmers by prescribing farming practices. Instead, they serve as a tool to support farmers, allowing farmers to adapt and regain a sense of agency. Their business model is simple: grant the three-million subsistence farmers in Mexico the opportunity to sell their surplus at a local premium. There is no hyper-capitalist impetus to increase individual productivity, to produce at economies of scale. Instead, they are a humble buyer attempting to pay fair prices for those who want to work with them. Ultimately, they are a relatively small venture, working with only two-thousand farms, all of which approach their relationship with Masienda differently.

Masienda does not attempt to revolutionize the entire agricultural industry but wants to offer an alternative. As Gaviria put it, Masienda is “a complement, not a competitor.” Of course, Gaviria still understands the detrimental environmental and nutritional impacts of contemporary farming but also realizes its positive social impact, complicating the story. Gaviria stated, “The convenience provided by Maseca and Gruma opened up a lot of doors for people.” Gaviria claims that this convenience liberates, that people are freed from the kitchen and can pursue what they want, an underrecognized boon of food-industrialization. As a result, Masienda markets itself with a level of humility: they are not the self-aggrandizing upheaval. Instead, he gives people, both the farmer and the consumer, a choice. And to Gaviria, the consumer, in this case, the home cook, is not to be overlooked. Masienda is not solely for the high-end restaurateur and the sous chef. He wants to allow the home cook the ability to choose health and taste, selling four types of masa harina and eight varieties of corn.

Now, eight years after founding Masienda, Gaviria finds himself in a place he never imagined, publishing a cookbook. Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple is the first seminal cookbook on masa, a topic that superficially seems niche and inaccessible. When posed the question, “Why corn?” Gaviria responded, “We’ve talked about politics, we’ve talked about food, olfactory qualities, travel, education, people, all of that is innovatively tied up in corn, and to me, that is infinitely stimulating. It’s not just corn. It’s not just masa.”

When performing research for the book, Gaviria was not only shocked by the interconnection between corn and the non-culinary, for example, in social movements such as Sin Maíz No Hay País, but by the gaps in the historical and cultural archives. First, there was no corpus; second, many of the traditions were solely oral and hyper-regional; and third, essential pre-Colombian corn knowledge was lost in the cultural genocide of colonization. Gaviria was surprised by this contradiction, that despite people globally indulging in tacos, thus masa, it remains understudied.

Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple is devoted to sharing how best to prepare and respect corn. Gaviria’s cookbook thoroughly explores how kernels become masa, deliberating on the intricacies of grinding and the difficulties of cooking with cal. The book includes explanations of masa’s applications as well as traditional and contemporary recipes. The ten recipes for contemporary masa applications pay homage to the Modern Mexican culinary movement, which attempts to balance tradition with innovation. Born from this fusion are dishes such as shrimp and masa grits, lamb birria with mass gnocchi, and masa samosas. There is an inherent cosmopolitanism in these dishes, and Gaviria, when constructing these recipes, made sure to “interrogate the difference between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation.” Gaviria perceives our current world as one in which “borders are becoming increasingly illusory,” and, using this perspective, he captured a spirit of interconnection and cross-pollination.

However, Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple is primarily devoted to capturing the complexity and wholeness of the Mexican culinary tradition. Gaviria exemplifies this dedication with his treatment of atole, a corn-meal beverage. When describing the recipe, Gaviria first begins by sketching out its history, specifically, the Nahuatl etymology and its prevalence in the indigenous Mesoamerican diet. Gaviria then proceeds to sketch the basic recipe of the dish before diving into how regional contexts transmute atole, for example, how in the state of Tabasco, they ferment the masa. By rooting his text in the regional traditions, he displays the beauty and complexity of Mexican cuisine but also leaves a space for experimentation. This tacit invitation empowers the home cook to take these recipes as not only cultural anchors but jumping-off points. Ultimately, Gaviria envisions the masa chef akin to the baker, that each family will intricately hone their technique, iterating over time to create their perfect tortilla.

Jorge Gaviria’s cookbook Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple was published on September 13, 2022. Masienda also sells its high-end restaurant-quality corn to home cooks through their website.

Singing a song to her cat, the legend of Isabella Lovestory was born. The now rising Honduran pop icon had recently dropped out of art school in Montreal, dissatisfied with both the creatively restrictive and exclusive nature of academia and the art world, and turned to music. Born from this transient state of confusion, her first song, “Gati Lindo Precious,” nearly reads like a dreamy and frenetic love poem. She doted, portraying her cat as a gluttonous rebel who epitomizes perfection, saving her from depression. Lyrically and sonically, she blended playfulness and sadness. Lovestory sketched atmospheres that capture the conflicting emotional registers of fantasy, exploring the coexistence of longing, despair, and hope.

Five years later, Lovestory has undergone multiple artistic metamorphoses, with her most notable eclosion being her hit single, “Mariposa,” in 2020. “I hate when things stay repetitive for brand purposes,” said Lovestory of her perpetual embrace of change. Rather than cement herself as one type of artist, she embodies this spirit of growth, always attempting to explore different musical traditions and expand her sonic world. There is a creative propulsion outwards, a trailblazing mentality. Instead of stasis and closure, she glorifies a radical vision of artistic freedom. She will not be restrained.

Her sense of freedom traces back to her childhood. Filled with tumultuous moves, Lovestory was born in Honduras but then lived in suburban Virginia and Montreal. She described her parents as “the black sheep of both her families,” two individuals who did not succumb to societal pressure. As a result, she inherited a sense of self-determination and individuality. Deviating from the popular genre of reggaeton, Lovestory’s father was, in her words, the “first Honduran person to play alternative music” on the radio in Honduras; her mother decided to pursue a then-risky career in architecture. Thus, when Lovestory found herself in a shockingly large, 5000-person high school, she did not conform. As a recent immigrant and being “this weird, hyper, kind of a tomboy, crazy girl,” she found herself an outsider, Lovestory shared. To escape, she turned to Tumblr.

Tumblr allowed her to find a community of similarly alienated artists. By posting movie recommendations, emotional musings, and fashion inspiration, she was able to learn and grow with like-minded people. From this environment sprung some of her most intimate life-long friendships, including the stylist behind the “Fashion Freak” music video. Reminiscing on this community, she lamented the death of the spontaneous and uncontrolled internet. “All is being fed to you, and you live in a vortex,” proclaimed Lovestory in our conversation. Her critique of algorithms is in line with her embrace of freedom and chaos — necessities of true self-discovery.

It should be no surprise that she described herself as the “curator of my world” — her music exhibits the sugary aesthetic completeness of a Tumblr page. Lovestory stresses wholeness, and her work is more than merely auditory. It engages all the senses, with every element of the production, from choreography to video editing, receiving personal attention.

More than anything, Lovestory is fixated on the intersection of fashion and music. In the music video for “Fashion Freak,” she strutted down a treadmill in twenty-four brash and glossy looks. One outfit, in particular, a Honduran football kit accessorized with an oversized butterfly belt-buckle and platforms, is a favorite. The video is the actualization of the childhood dress-up — where in reality, one can be, as Lovestory claimed, this “chaotic fashion-obsessed princess.” Clothing obsession is also apparent in the song “Kitten Heel,” released in 2020, whereby Lovestory focuses on the clicking sound her shoes make when she walks, turning accessories into instruments. 

In the case of Lovestory, art and artist are the same. For her, the persona of Isabella Lovestory is an “exaggeration of my personality” and its “purest expression.” She posited that her on-stage act, as opposed to a mask, is an unveiling of the performance of the everyday. As Isabella Lovestory, she no longer has to subdue and control herself to fit in but can be free as herself.

This purity of self-expression has consistently defined Lovestory. In art school, she was always a restless artist. “I used to draw until my hand was hurting so badly,” she said of the intensity of her art-making process. Despite her passion, Lovestory felt her kinetic pieces went uncelebrated in art school. She related her frustration towards the prescriptive rules she encountered — that art institutions attempted to suppress her voice by imposing unnecessary structure. 

Encountering music was, as a result, freeing. Lovestory began with a genuine leap of faith, becoming a pop star with no musical history or vocal training. But, this inexperience is what unlocked her creativity. She articulated that having “no preconceived set of rules” allowed her to express herself without limitations, which in turn helped craft her singular voice. 

In the studio, Lovestory does not consider the technical aspects of music but operates through intuition. When songwriting, Lovestory described “tapping out of the physical and going into the creative zone.” Her process involves slipping into a dissociative state of artistic expression where songs pour out of her. An example is Lovestory’s single “Kitten Heel,” which came together in only five rapturous minutes. She compared this expressive trance to the process of Hilma af Klint, whose works were born from automatic drawing sessions. Formed from Lovestory’s trance-like studio sessions is a new album, Amor Hardcore, set to release on October 5th, 2022.

When asked what to expect, Lovestory quickly retorted, “genreless.” Some of her latest songs move beyond reggaeton, including happy hardcore and electroclash influences. Lovestory fuses genres. As a result, her musical influences are thus unexpected — they include many indie rock and post-punk bands. When listening to these artists, she emphasized a vision of universality: “Melodies are a chemically organic formula that exists in all music. Melodies are malleable.” With this vision of the universal, she can translate sounds from disparate genres into one coherent project, expanding the scope of her reggaeton. And these sonic expansions are just the beginning, with Lovestory hinting towards making industrial and shoegaze-inspired tracks. 

This past weekend, Lovestory performed at Elsewhere in Brooklyn. She embodied this alluring eroticism, capturing an entrancing blend of vulgarity and beauty. As the crowd chanted her sensual anthems, she stood atop the banister effulgent under the flickering spotlights. As she swayed her hips unabashedly in the presence of their collective gaze, the crowd knew she was not only destined for stardom but that she was ready. 

Watch Isabella Lovestory’s new video, “Sexo, Amor, Dinero,” below.

As the oppressive summer heat becomes evermore inescapable, lurking in every shadow and supposed refuge, the only true escape we could find was through cocktails. These four summer cocktails transform “having drinks” into “having refreshments,” each packed with the power of reinvigoration and recovery. In the perpetual fight against the elements, we want to remind you of a necessary shield: tequila. Grab a glass and seize the summer with these drinks.

Edith’s Watermelon Margarita

Tiktok sensation and chef Edith Galvéz, known for her tranquil, satisfying, and informative cooking videos, sent us a cocktail recipe that is sweet yet packs a punch. With masterful precision, Galvéz balances what in the wrong hands could easily be saccharine notes with acidity, crafting a drink that will leave you drunk and asking for more, a fun yet risky combination.

Recipe: Depending on how stressful this past week has been, mix either one or two shots of tequila, one ounce of agave syrup, one-and-a-half cups of watermelon juice, and one teaspoon of lime juice into a shaker over ice. If one is feeling quite fancy, garnish with a mint, a wheel of lime, and a slice of watermelon.

Soul Mate

You may recognize Enrique Olvera from Season 2 of Chef’s Table, where they portray his restaurant Pujol in Mexico City as a culinary monastery rife with ambition, perfection, and love. Although he is known for his decadent and complex moles, he also worked with bartender Jim Meehan to create this zesty, refreshing, and inventive cocktail full of harmonious citrus. 

Recipe: Combine two ounces of tequila, half an ounce of Galliano (vanilla anise liqueur), and one ounce of tonic water in a shaker over ice. Before pouring into a glass, squeeze a lime and an orange and muddle a sprig of cilantro. Afterward, rim the glass with sal de gusano (worm tequila salt), if you are feeling adventurous, or salt and garnish with slices of cantaloupe.

Tia Mia

Ivy Mix, the author of Spirits of Latin America and James Beard Award nominee, is known for her charming bar Leyenda in Brooklyn. This drink, the Tia Mia, is both an anagram and an inversion of the Mai Tai, serving to both intersect Hawaiian and Mexican culture. The result is a tropical cocktail that tastes like nostalgia: a blend of familiarity, warmth, and surprising novelty. The Tia Mia is a somehow unforgettable day spent lounging on the beach.

Recipe: Mix one ounce of mezcal, 1 ounce of rum, half an ounce of curaçao, a three-quarters ounce of lime juice, and half an ounce of orgeat syrup (or any simple syrup) to a shaker over ice. Shake for a few seconds and, if desired, garnish with a sprig of mint and a wheel of lime.

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La Fresa

Renowned Mexican mixologist Mica Rousseau, who worked at the esteemed Fifty Mils in Mexico City, created La Fresa. It is a wonderfully sweet and refreshing drink, with notes of lemon and grape that pair beautifully with the waves of strawberry, ultimately creating a delightful symphony of fruity notes. This drink is light on alcohol but heavy on flavor.

Recipe: Mix one-third ounce of tequila, three-quarters of an ounce of white zinfandel (or any rosé), half an ounce of strawberry puree, and one teaspoon of lemon juice in a shaker over ice. Shake briefly and, if desired, garnish with dehydrated strawberries.