[upbeat music] - Phoenix, the capital of Arizona, and a desert city with a real cool origin story because it was named after the mythological phoenix when it rose from the ashes of a former civilization.

Well, that would be the Hohokam and the Pima people, who lived here for about 2,000 years and built hundreds of miles of canals.

Then the Spanish stole the region from them.

Then it was part of Mexico.

And then, of course, the U.S.

was like, nope, now it's ours.

All right, here's the thing-- Latinos make up a third of Arizona's population, and our contribution to the local Phoenix economy is over $65 billion annually.

Yes, b-b-billion with a big-ass B.

♪ Look at this place, people.

Phoenix is incredible.

But it's still in the process of finding its multicultural groove.

So I'm here to meet with some exceptional Latin people leading the way, and we're gonna check out some sick lowriders, try some mezcal, and chow down on Native American fry bread but with a little Latin flavor.

So come on, let's go.

[upbeat Latin music] ♪ One of the sunniest cities on the planet, Phoenix is home to a special blend of Indigenous, Spanish, and Mexican cultures, desert-loving people who settled here long before it was the air conditioning capital of the world.

[upbeat music] And since my favorite way to experience any culture is through my stomach, I'm gonna check out the local Indigenous staple, fry bread.

But not just any fry bread-- the fry bread taco.

Now, that's an enticing combo.

I've invited a friend who knows what's up, Marcus Zilliox, an artist and Phoenician with Native and Mexican roots.

And we're heading to the Fry Bread House.

I hope you're hungry.

- I'm starving.

- Founded by the late Cecelia Miller and now run by her kids, Jennifer and Richard.

So tell me a little bit about your restaurant.

I mean, it looks like an incredible spot.

How did you start it?

- My mom started the restaurant about 30-- a little over 30 years ago.

[mellow guitar music] They specialized in Native American food.

And really, it's grown out of her recipes that we grew up with eating.

- So she wanted a place where Indian people could come and enjoy Native, Indigenous foods.

- Have some comfort food.

- Exactly.

- Like a hub, like a little center to unify people.

- That's how it all started.

- So Marcus, do you know the history of fry bread?

- I do know some.

Part of the reservation period of Native people was, if we could sit still for a while, they would provide us with certain foods-- flour, lard, coffee, as part of the treaties.

- In the 1800s, during several forced relocations, the government gave Indigenous people rations of flour, sugar, and lard to substitute the fish, game, and crops that they were leaving behind.

Although the ingredients lacked the same nutritional value, the resourceful tribes used them to create a new staple-- fry bread.

Cecilia learned to make fry bread from her mother on the Tohono O'odham reservation in Southern Arizona.

Then at 50 years young, she perfected her recipes, took a business class, and started her own restaurant.

- Fry bread was something that my mom always cooked, we grew up on.

Beans as well.

[upbeat music] Within the Indian community, you know, fry bread is such a staple across all tribes, right?

And she really perfected, I think, her fry bread.

And it started with just like a Native taco-- beans, lettuce, and cheese on a fry bread.

- So get this.

The Native taco, also called the Indian or Navajo taco, is the perfect fusion of Indigenous American and Mexican cuisines.

And Cecilia's interpretation of it took off in a big way, first with the local community and later with national recognition.

In 2012, the Fry Bread House received a James Beard America's Classic award, the first Native American restaurant to take the title.

- I never dreamed or even thought about coming one day to New York to receive an award like this.

So it is really something special for me.

- Well, I wanna have some of this James Beard food you keep talking about.

- Let's do it.

- Let's go, let's go.

- Skoden.

- Oh, wow.

Beautiful.

Gracias.

- This is a Native-- lettuce, beans, cheese, and our fry bread.

Our pozole, we make it a little thicker than, like, we're used to.

- Thank you, sir.

Thank you so much.

- For sure.

Thank you.

- Appreciate it.

I can't wait.

Yeah, I'ma have a good time with this incredible fry bread.

[lively guitar music] It's so spicy.

The beans are beautifully laid out.

That fry bread really adds a crunch, like, a nice texture against the softer ingredients.

And you could tell this is quality, that this is all really fresh ingredients.

There's nothing more comforting than deep fried bread.

And the taco toppings take it to the next level.

It's the best of both worlds.

But before I slip into a food coma, I gotta get the 411 from Marcus.

My man has a Master's in Fine Arts from Yale and has exhibited across the country, from the Smithsonian in D.C.

to the Met in New York, and multiple shows in Arizona.

And he infuses all of his work with his cultural legacy.

So tell me, who were the Indigenous people living here?

- So about 2,000 years ago, 500 B.C.

give or take, the Hohokam.

- What does Hohokam mean?

- The people who have gone.

- Oh, the people who have gone.

So it's got, like, a negative, sad, kind of-- - Yeah.

So we prefer our passed away loved ones.

- Oh, yeah.

- It's much more inclusive.

- As I drive around, I see all these canals.

And this is a desert, so how does that happen?

- So the Hohokam, they're ingenious.

They built canals over this entire valley to grow their corn, grow their crops, feed their people.

And when a white man came, he said, I noticed these areas look good for crops.

- Yeah, yeah.

- And they started digging out the old canals, and they built Phoenix.

And that's why they called it Phoenix, because they said, "From the ashes rise this new city."

- Right, from the previous civilization.

- Yeah.

- You grew up here.

You grew up in a reservation yourself.

- I did--my great-great- great-grandfather was Bull Bear, the war chief of the Dog Soldiers.

He fought against the Americans... - How cool.

- In the 1860s.

- Marcus's roots run deep.

Born to an Akimel O'odham father and a Mexican mother, he grew up first on the rez and then in the barrio in South Phoenix.

But he doesn't see them as separate ancestries.

To him, they are two threads of the same tapestry woven over thousands of years-- the same resilience and the same challenges.

How did Phoenix become more accepting of Latinos and Indigenous people?

- You know, we were all the same people, so it's sometimes hard to say how are we accepted, because we're still fighting that struggle.

So I wouldn't say we're accepted.

- Right.

- But we're being more accepted.

- I truly--I feel like that's all across America.

Do you think the cultures here are gonna keep merging, the Latinx and the Indigenous?

- Of course.

This Fry Bread House is an example of that.

- And Marcus is right.

The Fry Bread House is a symbol of defiance for a people who turned cruelty into a cultural emblem.

And mad props to Jennifer and Richard for carrying their mother's torch.

I'm glad I got to reap the delicious benefits.

[upbeat Latin music] - Who knew that Phoenix is home to some of the best mezcal in the world?

Not me, that's for sure.

An ancient Indigenous Mexican spirit known as the elixir of the gods, mezcal is made by roasting piñas in an underground pit lined with lava rocks, which gives it that signature smoky flavor.

Now, to be clear, mezcal can only be made in certain regions of Mexico.

But one man is doing the noble work of bringing it here, importing his family's award-winning label direct from their hacienda in Oaxaca.

Ivan Carreño of Carreño Mezcal.

Ooh, I'm gonna enjoy this.

Hey, hey.

How's it going?

- Hey, hey.

[both speaking Spanish] Especially now.

Look at all this.

- Yeah, had to make them perfect for you, man.

- I just wanna get all the information on mezcal, like the origins, how it started, where you started.

- You got some time?

'Cause I'm on mezcal time.

- Wait, how fast is that?

How much--is that sped up?

- It goes really slow.

So I'm originally from Oaxaca, Mexico.

Oaxaca, Mexico is one of 32 states... And Oaxaca is pretty much the epicenter for mezcal.

- Mezcal has been used for hundreds of years in Mesoamerican culture, for everything from religious rituals to stomachaches.

There's a saying.

Mezcal was created when Spanish conquistadors introduced the Indigenous population to the process of distilling, maybe the only good thing those thugs ever did.

Aztecs applied this new skill to their ancient custom of fermenting the agave plant.

And behold, the elixir of the gods.

Now, the story of Carreño Mezcal is an epic family saga, beginning with... Oaxaca, 1904.

Ivan's extremely handsome great-grandfather, Apolonio, runs an illegal home distillery.

- Agaves propagate all over Oaxaca, and so he had all of these agaves on his property.

So he goes, I'm gonna produce mezcal.

And so that's how it was.

But because it was illegal, we weren't selling it.

We would plant sugarcane.

So we're basically farmers.

Ivan's extremely handsome grandfather, Pedro, meets the love of his life.

- He goes, "I'll never look at another girl ever again.

"You're gonna be the queen, and everything that I have will be yours."

- And they decide to have three sons to help on the farm.

Although that's not exactly how biology works.

- And it went girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl.

- Wow.

- Oh, boy.

They finally stopped.

- Ten kids.

- Ten kids.

- God damn.

Chapter 3: Journey to the Land of Oz.

I mean AZ.

A tragic death compels Ivan's dad to immigrate to the U.S.

for work, leading to a harrowing journey years later to reunite his family.

- My grandfather passed away in '89.

My dad came up here to the States.

And I was, at this point, about three years old, I wanna say.

So I stayed in Mexico, in Oaxaca for a little bit.

- How did you get here?

How did you come up?

- So, dude, we had to jump the border.

- Wow.

- Yeah.

- That's intense.

That can't be easy.

- It's not an easy thing.

- What a tale.

- Grandma was getting a little bit older.

- Wait, there's more?

- So she said, I'm gonna give each of the kids, each of the ten kids-- - Oh, okay.

Chapter 4: The Neverending Story.

- I'm gonna give them 10 acres, and then we left the house on 10.

- Boy, he wasn't lying about being on mezcal time, so I'm gonna fast forward it just a little bit.

[lively piano music] Grandma divvies up the land among her ten kids.

Then Tía Lorena, daughter number five, decides to take the private mezcal stash public.

And then Ivan quits his job to join his aunt and set up import operations here in Arizona.

Whew!

I need a drink.

- What do you say we start sipping one?

- Yeah, I'd love to try.

What do you think is the first thing we should try?

- Mezcal Naran.

Naran, basically, is our house mezcal.

Now, before you go ahead and drink this one... - Yes.

- What I want you to do is, we're gonna swish it, we're gonna go down, and then instantly after we go down, we're gonna breathe out.

So watch this.

[exhales] - That looks obscene.

- And the reason you breathe out is because if you breathe in, what will happen is, is those alcohol vapors are gonna recirculate back here.

- I'm gonna try to do it.

I don't know if I remember all the things I'm supposed to do.

[exhales] Did I do it?

- You did it right.

- Oh, wow.

It's incredible.

You have a lot of awards on these.

These are not easily won.

- No.

The Super Bowl of competitions is the San Francisco World Spirits Competition.

- That's the top.

- That's the top one.

That's the one that you want-- - And what did you get?

The gold?

- We got two silvers.

- That's good.

- We got a gold.

We got two double golds.

- Oh, what?

Word?

- And then we got Best in Class, so best in the world.

- Hot damn, best in the world one year after their first export.

Talk about an overnight success-- 120 years in the making.

I wanna have some of that.

- That's the finale.

- That's the finale?

I gotta earn that?

- Yeah.

So we're gonna go to Tobalá.

Tobalá takes about 10 to 15 years to mature.

- Oh, wow.

- This is a double gold winner.

- Oh, wow.

That's so smooth, man.

So, so silky.

And then later, the smoky hits you.

- And I want you to try and find your favorite one.

- This is my favorite.

Each mezcal here is made from a different species of agave, totally distinct from one another.

Oh, that was--that one packs a little punch.

Oh, okay.

[rasping] I lost my voice.

[chuckles] - You were breathing in on that a little bit.

- I breathed in it.

So this is why they use prop drinks in Hollywood.

It's beautiful, but it does taste kind of like veggie.

- Veggie.

Vegetal is what the word is.

- But beautiful.

This is my new favorite.

Ivan says the purity of mezcal, 100% agave with zero additives, means no hangover.

Well, here's hoping.

Now I'm dying to try the last bottle, the one crowned best mezcal in the world.

- This one is an ensemble blend of seven, because my great-grandfather said, "I was meant to have seven granddaughters, and I wanna honor that with a blend of seven."

One agave for each of the daughters.

- Beautiful.

[upbeat music] ♪ Oh, my God.

I taste the pineapple.

That's crazy.

This mezcal was worth the wait.

It's so smooth, so flavorful, clearly deserving of its top honors.

These are beautiful, man.

They're fantastic.

No wonder they're award winning.

Thank you so much for sharing everything, man.

- John, I'm glad you got to hear my story.

- I felt very lucky being a part of this, because this is exceptional.

- Hey, anytime you wanna come back... You know what?

Take that home.

- Oh, bro.

You're the best.

- Take that home.

- My wife's gonna be very thankful.

It might be the eight shots I just took, but I get the sense that mezcal is so much more than a spirit.

It's spiritual.

A connection to the ancient roots from which it sprang.

Man, who knew booze could be so deep?

And now, time for my siesta.

Success to you.

Cheers.

[slurring] And that concludes-- that's a wrap on day one in, you know, the city of Phoenix.

[crowd cheering, players yelling] [whistle trills] - Phoenix is the nation's hottest big city, with the mercury often hitting 110 degrees or more.

[upbeat hip-hop music] Oh, hey, speaking of mercury, did you know this is the home of the WNBA GOAT?

20 years on the team, three championships, and claro que sí, she's Latina.

Argentinian, to be exact.

That's right, I'm talking about Phoenix Mercury guard Diana Taurasi.

PS, did I nail that segue or what?

Hello!

- Thank you for letting me come into your house.

Much love.

- It's a pleasure.

- This is so cool to be in the Suns home.

- Is this your first time?

- Oh, no, did I just say Phoenix Suns?

Oh, I'm so embarrassed.

Rewind.

Let's try that again.

Hello!

[laughs] - Hey, what's up?

What a pleasure to see you.

- Thank you for having me in the home of the Phoenix Mercury.

- Yes!

[laughter] - Phew, saved it.

Barely.

- It's okay.

We've won more championships than the Suns, so you can say Mercury-- - You have?

- We've won three.

- You kicked ass, huh?

- We did.

You know, we've started a little something here, which has been great.

- You have.

A little something?

She may be humble, but I'm not.

In her two decades dominating the court for the Mercury, Diana became the first WNBA player to score 10,000 career points, holds a record for most career 3-pointers, and was named WNBA Finals MVP twice.

Oh, yeah, and she has six Olympic gold medals.

Just a little summer side hustle, you know.

How does it feel like to be a Latina in the WNBA?

- Well, I mean, being just a Latina in this country, there's just so many layers to it.

Growing up in LA, I was like, you know, cool.

Everyone speaks Spanish, but everyone's Mexican.

- Right, right, right.

- So now I was still like-- - You were an outsider.

You were an outsider.

- I was still an outsider.

- They didn't take you in.

They didn't take you in?

- No, they did.

The homeys did take me in.

- Oh, good, good.

- But, you know, it's still, there's that difference of, you know, language, food.

- Although she grew up in LA, Diana's life at home was unmistakably Argentine thanks to her parents.

Her mom is from Argentina, and her Italian dad was raised there.

They kept her rooted to her heritage through her language, food, customs, and even TV.

So when Diana got recruited to UConn, it was a huge culture shock.

Way more white people, but different Latinos as well.

- I go to Connecticut, and everyone was like, are you Puerto Rican?

I'm like, no, I've never met a Puerto Rican before.

You Dominican?

I was like, no, I've never met a Dominican before.

- This is a whole new Latino.

Did you find your people?

- I did.

You know, I found my people in my values and everything I learned in my Hispanic upbringing and everyone else.

- Chosen family.

A made family.

- Absolutely.

- But how did you choose basketball?

- So I grew up playing soccer and basketball.

And that's where, obviously, the Argentinian roots come in.

- Right, right.

How did the community deal with that?

- I had a conversation with my dad.

I was like, what do you think I should do?

He goes, do what you love to do, and I was like, well, I love to play basketball, and he goes, do that.

- Oh, good choice.

Good choice.

- My dad was like, and my mom, my family, they were always on back-- - They had your back.

- Yeah, they were always about it.

- And just like her parents, Diana is dedicated to supporting the next generation of ballers, including her own two kids, son Leo and daughter Isla, with her wife and former teammate Penny Taylor.

Diana knows firsthand how hard it can be for low income and immigrant kids to pursue their athletic dreams, and she's working to change that.

For Latinos in the U.S.

to be in sports is mad difficult because it's lack of access and--two things.

Lack of money.

And that's really-- it's not lack of talent.

- No.

This is the thing when people talk about talent.

You know, you don't discover talent.

You give it an opportunity.

- Right.

- And I think in our community, we don't get those opportunities.

- No.

- But it can be done.

I have an AAU team in Los Angeles.

- Oh, wow.

- And they come in, they don't pay for a thing, and they get to hoop.

And they're out there just having the time of their life.

And that moves the needle for our people.

- Absolutely.

And Team Taurasi is a huge success.

Close to 80 of her athletes have reached Division I, and three have even made it to the Olympics.

Latinas are making gains in the WNBA too.

In the 2024 draft, four Latina players made the cut.

Eso!

- John, I brought my sneakers.

I see you came ready to hoop.

- Yeah, I dressed up for it 'cause I love being near the hoops, and I'm ready for you.

- Cool.

Let me show you.

I got something for you.

[upbeat music] - Now, I've been playing street ball my whole life, but going head to head with the White Mamba named by the Black Mamba himself, Kobe Bryant, RIP, is probably gonna bruise my ego and the rest of my body.

But here goes nothing.

- We're gonna play a little game called Horse.

- No, no, no.

You're Argentine, right?

I believe you call it-- why don't we play Boludo?

B-O-L-U-D-O.

Whoever gets it spelled first... [blows raspberry] - I feel like I was called boluda a lot in school, so let's play.

You can start.

You're the guest.

- Oh, all right.

Bet.

- Oh, a little layup?

Oh, John, you gotta get it over the rim.

All right, we'll start with a free throw.

- Shaq could never get 'em.

- He could not.

- Whoo!

- Imagine if Shaq could make free throws.

- Baby, he'd be unstoppable.

Oh, that was way off.

- Oh, J, that's a B.

- That's a B. I'm getting close to boludo.

- You probably didn't have glass back in New York, but we do now.

Okay.

- Oh, no.

Oh!

- All right.

A little baby jump.

Yeah.

- You got skills, that's for sure.

- Oh!

B-O.

- B-O.

- I got-- I definitely got B-O.

Let me just try one from out here.

For the three.

Uh, you can probably tell where this is headed, so I'm gonna spare you and myself the agony of watching this play out in real time.

- Ah.

Oh, Johnny.

- Boludo!

Welcome.

I am a boludo.

- From here on out, you're an honoree Argentine boludo.

- That was the best.

- Thank you.

You're the best.

I appreciate that.

- Yeah, I gotta give you a hug.

You'd think I'd be salty, but it's an honor to lose to the GOAT.

Diana is a beacon of excellence and integrity to her team, her city, and her Latina heritage.

[engine turns over] [engine revving] [upbeat Latin rock music] ♪ - Today, I'm fulfilling a childhood dream.

Yeah!

Whoo-hoo!

Love it.

I feel badass.

I'm cruising in a... - ♪ Lowrider - For the first time, and it is bouncing.

Goodbye!

[chuckles] The lowrider scene is popping in Phoenix, and I'm psyched to explore this vibrant slice of Chicano culture.

[horn honks] Lowriders aren't just cars.

They are rolling masterpieces.

Dope.

From the sleek chrome details... Bomb.

And stunning custom paint jobs... Hot damn.

To the lowered suspension and wild hydraulics... [clunking] These babies embody creativity, tradition, and pride.

Today, I'm hanging with the Sophisticated Few car club for their 50th anniversary... Let's open it up.

Let's see what you got in here.

To celebrate their legacy and meet the legends who are keeping it fresh.

Ooh.

Fire.

But first, let me get some history from the godfather of lowriding himself, Richard Ochoa.

- Super, super.

I'm such a huge fan of lowrider culture.

- Oh, that's great.

- I'm fanboying out on you because I think this is such a beautiful part of our culture.

- It is.

- And I want you to tell me all the history of it.

- You know what?

Lowrider culture is very broad, but you can trace it back to the '40s.

[percussive jazz music] Have you heard of the pachuco era?

- Of course, the pachucos.

- So the pachuco are the forefathers of lowriding.

- Pachucos and pachucas were members of a 1940s counterculture, young Mexican Americans rebelling against assimilation by creating their own cultural identity.

I'm talking about flamboyant zoot suits, pompadours, and a unique slang known as Caló.

As the fashions faded and the pachucos gave way to the Chicano Movement, that rebellious spirit found a new outlet: car modification.

Dropping the suspension was a way to thumb their noses at the post-World War II hot rod car culture by taking it low and slow.

[engine revving] After California banned lowriders in 1958, mechanic Ron Aguirre installed hydraulics so he could quickly raise his vehicle when the 5-0 was around.

That soon became a defining feature as lowrider culture took off all over the Southwest.

- I grew up in a town called Superior, Arizona.

In Superior, it was a way of life.

I'm a second-generation lowrider.

My jefito, when he was back in the '50s cruising Main Street, he introduced me by the fact that I got to cruise in his car.

I purchased my first car in 1974.

I bought a '64 Impala, and then it took off from there.

- I'm from the East Coast.

When I started seeing lowrider culture, like, in rap videos, like a Kid Frost rap video.

- ♪ Yeah, this is for La Raza [upbeat music] - As a young Latin man, it was so inspiring and exciting to see us having created this whole art form.

- Yeah.

- I mean, "Lowrider Magazine" was also a big deal.

I'm looking at all my Chicano brothers and sisters in lowriders going, oh, man, what a life.

- I was very fortunate.

I've been working with "Lowrider Magazine" since 1989.

The magazine was founded in 1977 by Sonny Madrid.

Right now, you know, we have over 6 million followers at "Lowrider Magazine."

They can look at the car shows... - And get a peek of the trends, the styles.

Some of these vehicles are valued at 200,000-plus, and some that are in our "Lowrider Magazine" super shows that are showcase cars, they're easily about $1/2 million.

I can show you my ride.

- Oh, yeah.

Please do.

- All right.

- Let's check it out.

Ooh.

- John, this is a 1959 Chevrolet Impala two-door hard top.

- '59.

- That's right.

And '59 is kind of one of the popular versions of the Impala.

And I bought it for 3,500 bucks, and I put a few dollars in it, and now-- - A few dollars?

That interior is butter.

It's the butters.

- Hey, John, let me introduce you to two important people here that are here celebrating their 50th anniversary as a car club, the Sophisticated Few, Rick and Carlos.

- What's up, homes?

Rick, how are you doing?

- How you doing?

What a pleasure.

What an honor.

- It was a pleasure meeting you today.

- Oh, thank you.

Thank you, man.

So the 50th anniversary of Sophisticated Few.

- Right.

- That's amazing.

How did it all begin?

- It started with eight friends from the neighborhood from South Phoenix.

They were all into lowriding, just decided they were gonna do a car club, and they didn't expect it to be 50 years later, still going.

- Since 1974, the Sophisticated Few car club has been all about customizing cars, showcasing at events, and instilling pride in the next generation.

And the Few never miss an opportunity to step up for their people, providing Christmas for foster kids, assisting veterans, and joining forces with Chicanos Por La Causa, a not-for-profit dedicated to empowering underserved Latinos.

- You know, we're trying to make a difference for our community.

We're trying to show everybody that, you know, we're not thugs.

- Right.

- You know, we're a family-orientated club, and that's how we present it.

- I got my son, my grandkids are in it.

My father-in-law is one of the founding members.

So, I mean, it's like we're going on four generations.

- Yeah, it's amazing because everybody I talked to either got the car from their grandfather or their father, and they're planning to pass it down to their kids, babies even.

[Latin hip-hop music] Unfortunately, racial bias in the media, including Hollywood, has unfairly linked the lowrider community to crime and poverty, painting a target on their backs since the 1940s.

But it doesn't matter, because nothing is gonna keep these people from their passion.

In fact, the scene keeps growing, becoming more inclusive.

In 2024, the Lowrider Hall of Fame welcomed its first female inductee, and the Sophisticated Few have plans to bring it to an even bigger audience.

- We are working with PR, which is NASCAR.

- Oh, man, that'll be so hot.

Hot damn.

- That's a first.

- That is a first.

Good for you.

Yo, chilling with the lowrider crew has been the bomb.

But now I gotta bounce.

[clunking] Wow.

Thank you, thank you.

Whoo!

[applause] With that pachuco rebellion and Chicano grit, not to mention mind-blowing artistry and mad technical skills, trust me, these folks will be rolling low and slow for generations to come.

Yeah!

Oh, yeah.

Do it.

Do it, mama.

[upbeat Latin music] - Normally on this show, I like to feature places that you could check out next time you're in town.

But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate a legendary restaurant that is on its way out-- Barrio Café.

- When Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza opened this spot in 2002, she changed the food scene in Phoenix forever with her commitment to authentic and innovative Mexican cuisine and the passionate philosophy behind it.

Chef Silvana has created a legacy that will last long after these doors close, and it's an honor to host my legends dinner here tonight, where we will be some of her last patrons.

We are so damn lucky.

What's up, what's up?

- What's up, brother?

- I'm so excited to talk to you.

And I wanna thank you for letting us come in, 'cause I know the spot is-- you're closing it down.

- I said I was-- I came in with a bang, and I'm gonna go out with a bang, and you're the bang.

- Oh, yeah!

- Uno bang.

- What a beautiful spot.

How did you come up with the whole concept, and what was your, like, thesis?

- My thesis was to elevate Mexican cuisine and, you know, those erroneous misconceptions that North Americans have of, oh, it's Mexican, so, one, it must be cheap, and two, where's that yellow cheese and the red sauce?

They got it wrong.

So I set out to change that.

- And boy, did she.

For 22 years, Chef Silvana fed more than people's stomachs.

She fed their minds, upending everything they thought they knew about Mexican food and educating them on the history of her ancestral cuisine, one dish at a time.

What a G. You're gonna go, I'm not gonna give you your stereotypical Mexican food that you've appropriated anyhow.

- My intention was never money or capitalism.

My intention was to represent my ancestral right.

- And Silvana is legit, growing up in a lineage of Indigenous Mexican bakers 800 years long.

And she did what a lot of kids born into the family business usually do--she fled.

But she returned to face her fate with a slight twist.

She wasn't going to bake.

She wanted to cook.

But before she could go to culinary school, her mom got sick.

- My mother dies at age 57.

I was in my 30s.

And that's my motivation right there.

I have that moment of clarity where-- somebody asked me, what are you gonna do for your internship?

And instead of saying, I wanna go to Italy, I said Mexico.

- When Silvana arrived in Oaxaca expecting an authentic culinary experience, she was shocked to find a white American woman teaching Indigenous Mexican cuisine to tourists.

So she ditched the internship and set off on a quest to connect with her past in order to figure out her future.

- I ended up in a matriarch society with a family that cooks iguana.

And that was a kickstart to, this is who you are.

This is where you come from.

I was in the cradle-- - This is what you're made to do.

- I was in the cradle of Mesoamerica.

Oaxaca is the mother of all food for Mexico.

- Her time learning generational recipes from Indigenous women in Oaxaca converted Silvana into what she calls a cultural warrior, someone fighting for culinary heritage and against that yellow cheese.

So when she moved to Phoenix, she had a clear vision for the restaurant she wanted to open.

- I wanted to do regional food.

But I feel like when you cross the border north, your ingredients, less tierrita in the air.

I don't know, but the food changes, so I choose not to call it Mexican food.

It's chef inspired.

- Silvana has a fire in her belly, and it ain't the habaneros.

Aside from cooking, she's also a passionate and outspoken advocate for the Latino and LGBTQ+ communities.

But with the exhaustion of fighting a neverending list of injustices and the stress of running a world-class restaurant for two decades, she's ready to hang up her chef's hat.

And with nine James Beard nominations and thousands of fans, she's earned her retirement.

What are you doing in your next chapter of your life?

- I wrote a book called "La Hija La ........." - [laughs] - And its chronicles of a Mexican chef in the USA.

What do you think I gotta say?

I talk about the hierarchy that still exists.

- Oh, I can't wait to read Silvana's book, but not before I try her cooking.

All right, I wanna know about your menu, 'cause I'm bringing all these Latin legends tonight.

It's mole negro de Oaxaca, la cochinita pibil.

I have a pit in the back where I smoke it.

And then lastly is the chiles en nogada, which is a historical dish that I modified a little bit.

- Awesome, awesome.

- You know what?

Since I'm giving you an ancestral mole from Oaxaca, I might as well bring out a mandil from Oaxaca.

Come on.

- That's beautiful.

- Come on.

We're gonna dress you up.

Are you gonna help me?

- [laughs] I'm not just gonna sit there?

It's not the first time I wore a dress.

I got more legs than bucket of chicken.

[upbeat Latin music] ♪ - So how about you do some guacamole?

- Oh, yeah.

Let me do that.

Look at those colors.

How do you pick it so beautiful?

- I pay extra.

All right.

Now.

- Sweet.

- That is pomegranate.

- Granada.

- Give it a try.

- Mmm.

- So you're tasting the essence of the avocado instead of that fusion of the avocado.

- With the pomegranate against the savory, it makes it just pop.

Yo, I could eat this all day, but I know the best is yet to come.

And what's the last dish for my Latin legends?

- My people have guided me to places like Yucatan, where you have cochinita pibil.

- Beautiful.

Beautiful.

Oh, here we go.

- This is for you, papi.

- An honor and a pleasure.

Oh, wow.

Mmm.

My race memory is taking over.

That's incredible.

- Oh, it's so powerful.

- And you look at this, and my thinking behind it is, how can I best honor the foods that were given to me?

- Well, that's why you're so respected, 'cause everybody I talked to in Phoenix has huge respect for you.

- And I have huge love for Phoenix.

Are you ready?

- Well, yeah.

I love this dress, but I'm gonna change for my friends.

- All right.

You go ahead and change.

I'm gonna pick up.

I'll meet you outside.

- Meet you outside.

Be right there.

I can't resist.

Oh, wow.

- Juanito!

- [mumbling] - Mm-hmm.

Mmm.

[upbeat Latin music] - Another city, another legends dinner.

- [speaking Spanish] - You look like a work of art.

Look at you.

You look beautiful.

And another group of incredible warriors who are fighting that good fight for our community.

What an illustrious group I'm sitting here with.

I'm so thrilled to have you all here.

First up is Senator Ruben Gallego, Democrat, veteran, Harvard grad, and my half-Colombian brother.

He's been pushing for positive change for our community locally and nationally as a the first Latino U.S.

Senator to represent Arizona.

Next up, we got the first female president of Chicanos Por La Causa, Alicia Nuñez.

CPLC has been in the game for over 50 years, fighting for access and equality across the Southwest.

And finally, my dear friend, educator and artist extraordinaire, Tlisza Jaurique.

A Phoenician raised in el barrio, her work is deeply influenced by her Indigenous roots.

She's also a tireless advocate for teaching Latino history in schools.

Tonight, I wanna pick these massive brains on a specific question.

I wanna ask you about education here and the money.

I mean, Latinos bring 65 billion to the economy in Phoenix with 30% of the population of Arizona.

Why aren't we getting that money?

Now, here's the deal-- Phoenix Latinos pump more money into the local economy than the GDPs of North Dakota and Maine combined.

And yet somehow, Latino students still don't receive the same level of education as their white peers, leading to lower test scores and graduation rates.

How is that possible?

- It's a problem of this-- the average age of an Anglo in Arizona is around 44.

The average age of a Latino in Arizona is 27.

- Right.

- 27, you're having kids.

- Yeah.

- And at 44, you're already thinking about your kids being gone.

So the people that are paying taxes don't necessarily see the school system as theirs.

And the people that are still kind of putting the kids through the school system don't necessarily have the money and the tax base-- - And you're talking about Latinos, white-- - Latinos, yeah.

- And, Tlisza, you've been working in the school system.

- Within the educational system, why is there so much lack within our community?

- Yeah, why?

- Because there's no agency.

There has always been a caste system within our society.

[upbeat Latin music] - Get this.

Studies show that funding public schools with property taxes creates a built-in disparity that harms low-income families, which in this city means primarily Latinos.

Because if you rent or own property in a low-value area with lower property taxes, that means less funding for your kids' school.

And a substandard education just perpetuates the cycle of inequity.

And you've been part of working really hard since the '70s.

Chicanos Por La Causa.

- Yes, that's it.

- That has branches everywhere.

- Absolutely.

A lot of the Latino, Mexican American students were forced to do trade schools.

And so in the late '60s, there was a group of high school students that protested against the system because they wanted a pathway to a four-year college degree.

These were kids that really believed in changing the system and creating something better for those that came after them.

And right around the same time was the Civil Rights movement with Cesar Chavez.

And that's how CPLC started.

- And you're the first female president in-- - 55 years.

The first time I walked into the board room and I saw the people that worked in this organization, they were very passionate about their community and the cause, and they looked like me.

And so for me, that was very important.

- I will say, the Arizona Latino is a little different than, I think, other Latinos.

We are more aggressive when it comes to claiming our space and claiming our rights because we came so close for so many years to get it and take it away from us.

And we were being politically abused.

- And political abuse is right.

In the 21st century alone, Arizona has gone after Latinos and immigrants again and again, from banning bilingual education and Mexican American studies to voter suppression tactics, to the infamous SB-1070 in 2010, which basically legalized racial profiling.

All of them were challenged and partly overturned, but new threats seem to pop up every year.

It's no wonder my friends here had to get aggressive.

- If you look at a lot of the leaders, you know, within politics now here in Arizona, they were all the young leaders on the streets in 2010.

That's where actually a lot of us first met Silvana.

She was out there, you know, giving us paletas while we were protesting at the State Capitol, right?

So, like, there's a history here of a political power that started with resistance movements in the beginning.

[mellow guitar music] ♪ - Speaking of Silvana, we better eat if we wanna fuel the resistance.

- Here's our ancestral dishes.

Look at that.

- Oh, what is that, Chef?

My version of chiles en nogada.

And most importantly, the mother of all pit cooking, cochinita pibil.

- How would you tell all the Latinas across America and Latinos how to organize?

- Well, one, building partnerships.

Get to know your other fellow organizations that are doing similar work.

And also get to know those that maybe are naysayers and educate them on what's going on in your community that's affecting the people.

- 'Cause you guys gave us 2020.

It was grassroots organizations in Arizona and Texas, mostly by Latinas, that gave us these-- turn it blue, turn Arizona blue.

- Latinas and Native Americans saved the country in 2020.

- One of those Latina organizers was my student.

Part of the frustration is that you have these departments of education who see that we need curriculums for our students in South Phoenix.

And what do the curriculums do?

We teach the truth.

- I have seen this new movement in Latinx to go beyond the colonialism and to accept that we are Indigenous.

- Yes.

- That we have Indigeneity, and that that's our strength.

- I want this country to be richer in culture.

And the way we become richer in this culture is when our culture is considered part of the American identity.

- Yes.

- Much like Germans, Irish, Italians.

Like, we are part of the American identity, right?

And even if you're not Latino, you should be curious about it, right?

The future of the Latino is a fully integrated identity within the full American identity.

And sometimes it is a struggle, I think, and we have to continue pushing for it.

- Oh, he's right.

Latino identity is American identity, and nowhere is that more clear than with our food.

Silvana, your cooking is insane.

It's so powerful.

Why?

- I'm sorry, that's so delicious.

Thank you, Chef, and my guests.

- Latino loud.

- Latino loud!

[cheers] - I now understand why it's so damn hot in the Valley of the Sun-- because of fiery souls like these.

And everyone I've encountered on this trip has been unapologetically authentic, owning their heritage and blazing their own path while always making sure to look out for others.

It's truly inspiring.

Hasta pronto, Phoenix.

Until next time, Phoenix.