Photos by Denny Culbert, courtesy of Lydia and Ana Castro.
Lydia and Ana Castro, who together helm one of New Orleans's and America's hottest new restaurants, Acamaya—where they share the traditional cuisine of their home, Mexico City.
Ana and Lydia Castro became nationally-recognized entities when Lengua Madre, their five-course Mexican tasting menu restaurant, made the New York Times Restaurant List in 2021. The restaurant then went on to receive nods from the James Beard Awards in 2022 and 2023. As a contemporary restaurant showcasing the finesse of Ana's cooking, Lengua Madre cut through the outer skin of Mexican cuisine to expose its many layers, something of a rarity in New Orleans.
When the restaurant closed its doors at the end of 2023, the Castro sisters had already announced their new venture, which opened its doors earlier this summer and has already met the bar set by its predecessor, making the 2024 New York Times Restaurant List, as well as being named one of the "14 Best New Restaurants in America" by Eater.
Acamaya, located in the Bywater, is a more expansive concept, allowing for greater exploration of the cuisine Ana and Lydia grew up eating in Mexico City.
“Lengua was running at its capacity,” Ana told me when I sat down with her and Lydia. “There’s one menu and we do it. And that was really great for me as a chef to solidify what my vision around food was. We had the opportunity to tell that story with Lengua Madre. [Then I thought], ‘I need to expand. I want to grow.’”
Talking to the Castro sisters, like with any close siblings, one becomes immersed in their sibling shorthand. It’s not unlike kitchen-speak, though less aggressive. The sisters are in tune—one need only to say a word and the other knows exactly to what she is referring. They pipe in to fill in gaps of each other’s stories and narrate chapters of the other’s life.
“The only way that I am going to change the perception of Mexican food in the South is by gracefully sharing knowledge.” —Ana Castro
At Acamaya, Ana helms the seafood-centric menu while Lydia manages the front-of-house operations, a synergistic approach they developed after both moving to New Orleans. Upon graduating high school in Mexico City, Lydia moved to the city and fell hard and fast. Ana moved down after a five-year run working in New York restaurants. One day, when Lydia went to pick Ana up from the restaurant she was cooking at, she was pulled in to help out during a Jazz Fest rush. The management asked Lydia if she knew how to run food—she didn’t, but she hopped in, and soon after was hired as a regular employee.
It was an eye-opening shift: “I loved working with my sister. I loved working in the restaurant industry, and hospitality in general,” Lydia said.
If Lengua Madre was about introducing the Castros’ vision for contemporary Mexican food to the South, Acamaya extends the invitation. Gone is the tasting menu, and in its place are shareable plates that highlight the regional styles of Mexican seafood and honor the bounty of ingredients and techniques that have put traditional Mexican cuisine on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. In her approach, Ana sources seafood from the Gulf and gives it the “Mexico City” treatment, inspired by childhood trips to the city’s seafood market, La Nueva Viga Market (one of the largest in the world).
Photos by Denny Culbert, courtesy of Lydia and Ana Castro.
Dishes at Acamaya
“My grandpa used to take us as special treats on Sundays to eat the seafood [at the market],” Ana said. “In Mexico City, the seafood restaurants are very contemporary in the sense that they have regional seafood from all around the country. You get a little bit of everything in one restaurant, which is really interesting. I think that's just the nature of being the capital.”
A culinary historian could have a field day with the Acamaya menu, with its printed glossary on the back, explaining lesser-known, and often Indigenous, ingredients like chileatole (a masa-thickened chile sauce) or sikil p’aak (a Mayan tomato and seed spread), and their Mexican states of origin. Lydia and Ana knew that to some, having reading material at the table was a big ask, but they hope the glossary might help to break up the idea of monolithic Mexican cuisine. Still, they were prepared for the few, but memorable, customers who were shocked by the lack of chimichangas or taquitos at Lengua Madre (“The crab claws lady,” Ana referenced to Lydia in Castro parlance).
“The only way that I am going to change the perception of Mexican food in the South is by gracefully sharing knowledge,” Ana said.
"This is Mexican food, but there are no enchiladas,” said Lydia. “This is Mexican food, and it's different. And you're going to like it, and it's going to be delicious.”
Most newcomers are eager and curious, and Lydia and Ana encourage any questions. Lydia makes it a point to talk to tables looking over the glossary, introducing herself and opening up the conversation about the menu.
Photos by Denny Culbert, courtesy of Lydia and Ana Castro.
Acamaya in New Orleans
The Castro sisters hope the Gulf-caught seafood will bridge the traditions of Louisiana with that of Mexico. After all, both communities enjoy the bounty of the same body of water. But primarily, the dishes of Acamaya harken to regions across Mexico, and more specifically, the varied joys of eating across the country: the crisped-up cheese that lines the shrimp costra taco, a popular late night snack across Mexico City; the capers and olives in the sauce for the Veracruz-inspired flounder (blackened, Southern-style); and lesser known preparations of well-trodden masa, like the chochoyotes cooked with chanterelle, crab, and a corn beurre blanc. The result of this last dish is belly-warming satisfaction, a counterbalance to the cold hamachi and tuna tostadas, aguachile, and oysters fresh from the Gulf—which pair well with tangy cocktails like the Tamarind sour or classic margarita.
The format allows for ample opportunities to sample Ana’s creative preparations. The crab sope, with mayo spiced with chiltepin (dried chiles from Sonora and Sinoloa), thinly sliced cucumber and onion, and thick-cut avocado, is a party-starting bite. And though seafood is the star, the sides hold their weight. The bowl of ayocote beans, a meaty type of bean topped with queso fresco and crema, is perhaps the Platonic ideal of braised beans: comforting and hearty, with geometrically broken epazote leaves sprinkled on top giving the beans a touch of the herbaceous.`
When the Castro sisters found the Bywater space where Acamaya now lives, it was not immediately obvious how a restaurant was going to take shape inside.
Photos by Denny Culbert, courtesy of Lydia and Ana Castro.
Dishes at Acamaya
“I am, as Ana would say, cynical and very to the point,” Lydia said. When she saw the property, she said, “I can't see it.”
“She's unable to be moved by beauty and small pleasures,” Ana quipped, smiling.
“It's true. It's true.”
But the sisters found inspiration for the build-out in their native Mexico City. They explained, in the ping-ponging way that they do, how the components took shape. In Mexico, Ana found light fixtures made with the same stone used for molcajetes, molinos, and tahonas (respectively: the tools used to make salsa, to grind corn, and to crush agave for mezcal and tequila).
Lydia and the lamp seller proceeded to have a year-long email thread to arrange the sale and transportation, getting them U.L. listed and working with brokers to get them into the United States.
As Lydia explained the lengthy process, Ana cut in: “But it’s not just a lamp, it’s a piece of art by a Mexican designer.”
“That same story happened with the tables, the chairs, the tile…” Lydia said.
“The plates, the breeze blocks,” Ana finished. The breeze blocks they ordered from the concrete capital of Monterrey, with Ana picking up the palettes herself at the Texas border.
“It all came from Mexico,” Lydia said, “and it all had to go through a broker. It all had to go through like 25,000 [logistical] emails.”
Photos by Denny Culbert, courtesy of Lydia and Ana Castro.
Dishes at Acamaya
The result is a festive space, hued with pink walls reminiscent of the Jose Luis Barragan’s Casa Pedregal. The seventy-seat dining room is ensconced in the breeze blocks, which pattern buildings and kitchen interiors of Mexico City. And the communal tables have already brought diners together. One recent evening, Lydia sat two men dining solo, one with his book, the other with the New York Times, at the communal table, and by the end of the meal they were chatting and dining together with their reading material shoved to the wayside.
This openness extends to the kitchen, where Ana can be found cooking on the line, just barely removed from the tables. With a soundtrack of Latin pop (Bad Bunny, Rosalía) interspersed with classic rancheras and bandas, the overall impression is being invited into a Castro sister party, where Mexico City and New Orleans mingle in spirit and on the plate.
