Enrique Olvera has written books that span the full range of his culinary journey—from the high-wire artistry of Mexico from the Inside Out to the intimate, everyday warmth of Tu Casa Mi Casa. But his newest title, Sunny Days, Taco Nights, may be his most joyful yet.

At first glance, the book’s cover—sun-drenched, casual, and cartoon-colored—hints at its playful soul. But beneath the easygoing tone lies something deeper: a quiet thesis on why tacos matter. “This is not a coffee table book,” Olvera says. “It’s for cooking—outside, with people you love.” Equal parts personal memory, street food ode, and home cook’s guide, Sunny Days, Taco Nights captures the spirit of a dish that, in Olvera’s words, “belongs to everyone.”

From Pujol to the Patio: Why This Book?

For a chef whose name is synonymous with Pujol, one of the world’s most acclaimed fine dining restaurants, writing a cookbook about tacos might seem like a pivot. But for Enrique Olvera, it’s a natural continuation of a lifelong story—one that began in the markets and kitchens of Mexico and continues today in backyards and home kitchens around the world.

“Tacos are like pizza or pasta now,” Olvera says. “They’ve become universal.” But as taco culture has spread globally, Olvera saw a growing hunger to return to the roots. Not necessarily to mimic the exact experience of eating al pastor off a trompo in Mexico City, but to recreate the feeling. “We asked ourselves: if you can’t make tacos exactly like you would on the street, what’s the next best thing you can do at home?”

Sunny Days, Taco Nights is his answer: a cookbook that documents Mexico’s most iconic tacos—pastor, suadero, carnitas—while offering smart, friendly adaptations for the home cook. There’s no pressure to hand-press tortillas or build a charcoal spit in the backyard. Instead, the book suggests easy swaps and techniques that honor flavor and tradition without intimidating the reader.

And for Olvera, it’s personal. “We recognize now that people want to cook Mexican food at home,” he says. “So this book is an invitation—to enjoy good weather, good company, and good tacos.”

The Taco as Cultural Connector

For Olvera, tacos aren’t just food—they’re a lens for understanding culture, migration, and memory. “The beauty of the taco,” he says, “is that it’s adaptable.” That adaptability, he believes, is what allows tacos to belong to everyone while still holding onto their deep Mexican identity.

In Sunny Days, Taco Nights, tacos become a vehicle not only for flavor but for storytelling. “How you cook is a reflection of your values,” Olvera explains. A taco can be humble or luxurious, nostalgic or boundary-pushing. It can hold French onion soup flavors in one bite, Korean bulgogi in another. It can be found on the highway between Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta with a half-corn, half-flour tortilla—or reimagined in Spain with black garlic and vegetables in place of pineapple.

It’s this dynamic cultural layering that makes the taco, to Olvera, “the great equalizer.” Rich or poor, carnivore or vegetarian, in Mexico City or Madrid—everyone can find joy in a tortilla.

And yet, the simplicity belies complexity. “You can dig very deep into a taco and make it your life’s passion,” he says, noting that subtle differences in corn nixtamalization, acidity, and even technique can lead to dramatic differences in the final bite. In that way, tacos mirror their culinary cousins—pizza, sushi, pasta—humble foods elevated through care and intention.

A Personal Lens on Taco Culture

While Sunny Days, Taco Nights offers broad cultural insight, it’s also deeply personal. Some of Olvera’s favorite recipes in the book connect directly to his childhood memories—none more so than the taco de ejote, or green bean taco. “My mom used to make a lot of ejotes for a simple lunch,” he recalls. “We ate it with tortillas from the tortillería next to our house and some chile ancho—nothing fancy, just delicious.” That nostalgic combination made its way into the book not out of culinary ambition, but because it represents a feeling: of family, of home, of comfort.

That same emotional core drives the book’s broader aim: to help people create meaningful food experiences at home. For Olvera, a taco isn’t just a dish—it’s a shared moment. “Nobody cooks tacos for themselves,” he says. “This is a book you cook with your friends, in the garden, with good music and sunshine.”

Despite his global reputation and fine-dining credentials, Olvera insists this cookbook isn’t meant for coffee tables—it’s for the kitchen. It’s a book to stain with salsa, to mark with sticky notes, to pass around. A book, like the taco itself, made for gathering.

Democratizing Deliciousness

If Sunny Days, Taco Nights has a mission, it’s to remove barriers—to cooking, to sharing, to understanding Mexican cuisine on a deeper level. Olvera isn’t trying to replicate street food experiences perfectly at home—he knows you’re not roasting meat on a spit in your backyard or grinding corn with a volcanic stone. Instead, the book offers the “next best thing,” giving readers recipes that honor tradition while meeting them where they are.

That philosophy extends to tortillas too. “If you can’t make nixtamalized masa at home,” he says, “there are great options now—masa harina from brands like Masienda, or tortillas from your local taquería.” This balance of accessibility and reverence underpins the entire book. It’s not about chasing authenticity in a rigid way—it’s about recognizing the soul of the dish and making it work in your life.

For Olvera, tacos are endlessly adaptable—but always meaningful. “Even the al pastor,” he notes, “is a representation of things that don’t belong together—kebab techniques, pork, pineapple—and yet, it works beautifully.” The taco becomes a metaphor for cultural exchange, a testament to openness and evolution. In a world of division, the taco—humble, inclusive, delicious—brings people together.

As Olvera puts it simply: “Food belongs to everybody.”