grew up in Oaxaca, Mexico, a place famous for its . "I have one story for every mole," he says of the flavour-rich sauces of his birthplace.
There's – spiced with , thickened with crushed tortillas or corn flour and saved for special occasions. "That's my father's favourite mole," says the chef. "When it was his birthday, my grandmother would prepare this chichilo mole."
For a Mexican religious ceremony, he remembers being served mole amarillo – famous for its sunny colour, which verges from yellow to red, thanks to the chillies added to the recipe.
Then there's , which is traditionally placed on altars for Día de Muertos (the Day of the Dead). It's "reddish", as its name suggests, and for Díaz, preparing it for this celebration of ancestors was a great joy.
"It was like a national party, because it wasn't just [about] making the mole, it was about waking up around 6am to go to the market of the dead."
Heading on this ingredient-hunting mission with his grandmother was a thrill – she was his culinary hero, because he'd spent so much of his childhood in her Oaxaca restaurant. "I was with my grandmother toasting the chillies straight to the fire," Díaz says, of the mole-making process. Even today, when he smells chillies being charred, the smoky notes direct him back to this time. The roasting of garlic also transports him to his grandmother's restaurant, too.
I was with my grandmother toasting the chillies straight to the fire.
Cooking nowadays is often about time-saving methods: convenient shortcuts and viral life-hacks. It makes sense since many people feel burnt out by everyday life demands, and learning about a that reduces clean-up duties or a you can (literally) make in your sleep feels like a loophole that returns some elusive spare time to our lives.
When Díaz was growing up, though, the more time-intensive path of cooking things from scratch actually unlocked a lot of happiness.
"All the seven moles take a long time to be cooked," he says. "While we waited for the mole, we were excited." These long stretches were a way for his family to bond, chat and laugh over jokes. The three hours it took for them to prepare and roll tortillas for his grandmother's restaurant was, in this case, a delight and not a chore. Their finished batches were grilled simply, with a sprinkling of salt, yet the corn flavour was deeply intense.
"For me, it's the best tortilla that I've tasted – because it's full of memories and flavours," he says.
'When I'm in restaurants, I feel more closer to family – more closer to my grandmother – because it reminds me of those times," Díaz adds.
It's the best tortilla that I've tasted – because it's full of memories and flavours.
It's a connection that endures, even if his career has sent him all over the world. At , he worked with groundbreaking chef . "She was like the mother of Mexican gastronomy," he says. Her extraordinary work as a culinary ambassador helped her country gain recognition from UNESCO for its food culture. Díaz followed that with two years at , a Michelin-starred restaurant with a dizzying view over a medieval village on the French Riviera. He's also spent time in the US, and in Sydney, he's been showcasing the diversity of Mexican food: in late 2021, he helped launch the Yucatan-focused Casa Merida, , which takes inspiration from Mexico City, and , a restaurant and mezcal bar drawing on the moles of his birthplace.
"Everywhere I've worked has influenced where I am now," he says. And right now, he's running , the Pyrmont taqueria he opened in October.
"Since I was younger, I had this idea of opening my own place, because it makes me feel closer to my grandmother," he says. "I really wanted that freedom to create the real and traditional flavours from Mexico here in Australia."
He's also adding influences from his time in France, as well as drawing on the Indigenous ingredients of his adopted home.
So – a native Australian plant – plays a headlining role in his salsa verde, which is bolstered with green tomatillo and coriander. The lively, sharp fresh notes of this green salsa counter the richness of the beef birria taco it's served with, which is packed with brisket that's been slow-cooked for 12 hours and is richly topped with a meaty, thick jus that's been reduced for five hours.
The taqueria also champions Indigenous ingredients through its guacamole, which gets a zippy addition of lemon myrtle oil, and the saltbush that's blended into the morita salsa with the taco.
"We try to be a voice for the native ingredients – not also from Mexico, but also from Australia," the chef says. There are parallels with how Nativo showcases the blue corn tortillas under threat in Mexico with Indigenous ingredients like saltbush, which emphasises the smokiness of the dried jalapeno chillies in his salsa.
"The saltbush morita salsa is personally my favourite salsa," he says. "It's spicy, I'm not going to lie to you."
He adds that "we're taking risks because we're trying to make things like we find it in Mexico". This means not toning these things down, and showing that tacos are much more just a "cheap eat". The kitchen uses premium meats, imported dried chillies and features workers skilled at prepping tortillas and these fillings.
"So that makes your taco a little bit more different and not just in flavour, but also in food costs and in the people that you need to make the taco," he says. "It's hard to try to sell something that new and make people understand that it's not a taco you'd find in a pub."
Nativo might mix things up – by making a vegan taco with mushroom 'chorizo' that's marinaded with dried chillies, oregano and spices, or experiment with wattleseed for a pasilla salsa for an upcoming lamb barbacoa taco – but it draws on Mexican heritage when it does.
We're taking risks because we're trying to make things like we find it in Mexico
When you consider that people were making , and the chef is drawing on ingredients that have 65,000 years of history in Australia, there's something inspiring by how he pays respect to these two long-running food cultures while drawing on his birthplace and current home, too.
You'll also see this in other local Mexican-run venues – with Juan Carlos Negrete Lopez creating a mole-like Vegemite at , or glazing pork belly in and presenting it with Davidson plum, pickled cucumber and herbs at .
"There are a lot of chefs creating their own personal interpretation of Mexican food, but without losing their tradition," Díaz says.
And even after all this time, he still seeks out his first culinary hero, his grandmother, and updates her on his menu experiments at Nativo.
"Every time I call her and tell her [what I'm doing]," he adds. "She says, 'this sounds great, I wish I could taste it'."
Shop 6
45-55 Harris St, Pyrmont NSW
Tue–Sat: 11am–4 pm, 5pm–8:30 pm
