There are meals you simply eat, and then there are meals that feel like a small, private handwritten letter. The 25th-anniversary dinner from Pujol at WSA in New York was the latter kind.
Presented by Resy in collaboration with Pujol, the dinner ran for a limited engagement from November 21 through November 23, 2025, bringing one of Mexico’s most beloved restaurants into an intimate, pop-up in Manhattan.
The tables were set in a small, intimate space, quietly elegant, softly lit, and decorated with the kind of restraint that tells you the food is the main event. Nothing flashy. Nothing performative. Just a room built to disappear the moment the first plate arrived.
What We Ate: A Run-Through of Pujol’s NYC Anniversary Menu
Lani’s Farm Japanese Sweet Potato Sope, Regiis Ova Ossetra Caviar
A soft, earthy sweet potato sope topped with pristine caviar. Impressive, yes, but the sope itself was what stole my attention.
Maine Atlantic Rock Crab Chilateole
A deep, coastal, slightly smoky broth with delicate rock crab. This ended up being my favorite dish of the night. I genuinely wished no one else were there just so I could lick the plate clean.
Cauliflowers in Pipían Rojo
Surprisingly emotional for cauliflower. The pipián was rich, warm, and deeply comforting. One bite made me want to gather every tortilla in the room and build infinite tacos out of this dish alone.
Grass-Fed Australian Lamb Birria, Cape Cod Bang Mussels
The only dish that left me wanting. I anticipated a full-on birria moment, drippy, engulfing, chaotic, dramatic. Instead, it was elegant and restrained. Still delicious, just not my birria fantasy.
Mole Madre, Mole Nuevo
Pujol’s signature. The “mother” mole and the “new” mole plated side by side, tradition and evolution in conversation. The Mole Madre reminded me of the deep, concentrated smell of a country house kitchen, while the Mole Nuevo balanced it with something lighter and more delicate.
D’Anjou Pear Sorbet, Manojo Mezcal, Sal de Gusano
A reset button in dessert form: bright, icy, smoky. It made me consider carrying sal de gusano in my bag for every future sorbet.
Peanut Financier, African Forastero Dark Chocolate
This is the kind of dessert that ends the night gently. Its texture reminded me of a candy I used to eat in Mexico as a child. I still can’t place exactly which one, but the memory-flash was instant and delicious.
After the Meal
When the dinner concluded, Enrique Olvera came out to thank each table. When he reached ours, we told him the truth: we loved it, and his tortillas made us miss Mexico.
We meant it literally. There is nothing, really nothing, like a proper Mexican tortilla, and New York rarely gives us the real thing.
As we were getting ready to leave, a server approached our table with a small bundle wrapped in paper. He leaned in with a soft smile and said, “The chef sends them so you don’t miss Mexico that much.”
Fresh, warm tortillas. From Pujol. Given to us because we said we missed home. It was the closest thing to a hug I’ve ever received in carbohydrate form.
The evening was a quiet reminder that food, memory, and culture can travel, even if the pop-up disappears as softly as it arrived. My only task now is to ration my tortillas and honor them like the small gifts they are.
Text by: Wika Soto-Hay
