clara Garcia

Hey there, I’m so glad you’ve stopped by. My name is clara Garcia, I’m 42, and while I call the vibrant city of Austin, Texas my home now, my heart will always have roots in my grandmother’s tiny kitchen in Puebla, Mexico. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of her stone molcajete grinding chiles and garlic, a sound that was the true soundtrack of my childhood. That, and the scent of onions caramelizing slowly, cilantro being chopped, and fresh masa steaming on the comal. To me, that’s the smell of love.
Growing up, my world was split in two. There was the fast-paced American life at school with my friends, and then there was home, a little embassy of Mexico where Spanish was spoken, traditions were cherished, and the kitchen was the center of our universe. My Abuela Rosa was the queen of that kingdom. She never owned a cookbook. Her recipes were woven into her hands, a pinch of cumin measured by the feeling in her soul, the doneness of a stew judged by its aroma alone. She taught me that food wasn't about following rigid instructions; it was about listening to your ingredients and cooking with your heart.
Life has a funny way of leading you where you need to be. I went to college, got a sensible job in marketing, and started a beautiful life here with my husband. But even with a full heart and our two amazing kids, a part of me felt disconnected from my roots. I’d look at my son, who’s 12 now, and my daughter, who’s 9, and realize I wanted them to have the same connection to their heritage that I did, a connection that goes deeper than just words. I wanted them to taste it.
So, I started cooking. Really cooking. I cooked to fill our home with the aromas of my childhood, to give my children a taste of their Abuela’s magic. And let me tell you, it was not always a success! My first attempt at making mole poblano from scratch was a two-day disaster that my son bravely described as "interesting." I’ve made tortillas so tough my daughter suggested we could use them as frisbees. But with every mistake, my family was there, cheering me on and, thankfully, being very honest taste-testers. We started making it a family affair—the kids would help mash avocados for guacamole, my husband would be in charge of grilling, and our kitchen became this wonderful, chaotic, creative space.
It was in those moments I realized my real passion wasn't in a boardroom; it was right here, sharing the vibrant, soulful, and incredibly diverse food of Mexico with my family, and now, with you. It’s so much more than the tacos and burritos many of us know and love. It’s about the smoky depth of a chipotle salsa, the bright tang of fresh lime and cilantro, the comforting warmth of a pozole, and the magic of transforming simple corn into fresh, pillowy tortillas.
That’s why I created this space. This is for you—the curious home cook, the food enthusiast who wants to go beyond the basics, the beginner who might be a little intimidated by a poblano pepper. My goal is to pull back the curtain and show you that the spirit of Mexican cooking is all about generosity, family, and joy. My kitchen—which is often loud, messy, and filled with the “help” of my son and daughter arguing over who gets to stir the pot—is your kitchen. So please, come on in. Let’s get cooking.