In One of Americas Best Food Towns, These Restaurants Bring the World to the Table

Middle Eastern & Mediterranean Food

A cartoon image of Anton Nijmeh smiles at you, all teeth and gray hair, from above one of the tables. “Take a picture with the founder,” the painted wall invites. This is Falafel’s Drive-in, a San José staple since 1966. It’s the perfect blend of bold and comforting, and it all started when Nijmeh and his wife Zahie moved from Ramla and bought the Snow White. 

Through operating a classic hamburger stand, their family made their mark on what we consider American cuisine, introducing San José to the remarkably downy insides and perfectly crunchy outsides of veggie-powered falafel. It earned a cult following, partly because of the vegetarian craze in California and partly because of Nijmeh’s quiet hospitality. He gave away the falafel at first, prompting skeptics to taste it as a father feeds his young ones with the patience of knowing that even the unsure will end up scarfing down mouthfuls with glee. 

If you’ve never had a banana shake from the humble walk-up counter, you’re in for heaven on earth, whipped up fresh and served in the iconic white paper cup. The Nijmeh family continues using beloved family recipes, reminders of their homeland in the Middle East and their family’s deeply inspiring story. And the contrast of the crisp falafel and sweet sips of shake will have you seeing stars. 

Traditional Oaxacan Cuisine

Adolfo Gomez is a busy man. He’s chairing the San José Downtown Association, running a busy restaurant, and teaching reporters about the history of Oaxacan cuisine. He wants to do things the right way. Mezcal is a no-microwave environment. “I’m not trying to be mean if you have a microwave at home,” he says. “But you know what? Everything is fast. And we’re not trying to make things fast.” 

Gomez is inspired by the Oaxacan traditions of giving back to the people around you, of being invested in the community. Most of all, Gomez is inspired by his grandmother–his abuelita–and his mother, Doña Libo. “My mom was the magic behind it,” he says, laughing as he explains the way his brother would have to carefully watch as she cooked so he could write the recipes for the restaurant. 

“Every time my mom would grab salt, he’d be like, how much? One pinch?” Gomez remarks. “How many tomatoes?” his brother would ask, and his mother would shrug and say, “I don’t know, a bucket.” And through this hard work with family, his brother wrote down measurable recipes from their grandmother and aunties and mother, recipes for mole and tlayudas, jotting them into a book so that each dish you get is consistently a star. 

“The only one that doesn’t cook is me… I’m not allowed to cook because I have no clue about cooking,” Gomez explains. “But I have a clue how to run a business.”

It’s not just the classic recipes or cultural knowledge-bearing that make Gomez and his family’s restaurant special. The ingredients are literally from the culinary heart of Mexico. “We get product that I’ve been eating since I was a child. And it’s the same family who produces those items for us.” The cheese, the handmade corn tortillas (tlayuda), and certainly the culture, are all straight from Oaxaca, making this a must-visit for those who want to taste culinary excellence.

Filipino x American Food Truck & Catering

Banana lumpia. Tangy atchara. Rich sisig tacos that bring comfort from the first bite. These are the legacies of Barya Kitchen founder Rod Reyes and his mother’s memory. Reyes began cooking during a home economics class in middle school, moving on to cooking for close friends and family. As good as his experiments were, he says, “none of that food actually represented me as a person and as a cook.” It wasn’t until Reyes lost his mother that he began to cook the food he grew up with. 

“My mom was always cooking,” he says. Birthdays, graduations, moments of grief – there she was, bringing the large family comfort. “When my mom passed, that realization kicked in almost immediately. It felt almost existential: I’m not gonna have my mom’s food ever again.” That’s when Reyes realized he needed to act quickly. “I started cooking my mom’s food simply because I missed it, immediately missed it.” Within a week of her passing, Reyes was trying to replicate her chicken adobo for just one more bite of his favorite dish, one that once soothed his hunger and eased his mind as a child. 

He pauses, skeptical of himself. “I hate to say chicken adobo only because it’s such a cliche dish,” he explains. Every family makes it differently, even if they’re using the same ingredients, because of the methods and ratios and regional variations. “But, man, my mom’s ratio, when it came to chicken adobo, was like the most perfect balance of acidity, saltiness, and the pepperiness and the aromatic flavor from the bay leaf.” 

As time went on, Reyes not only replicated his mom’s cooking. He made it so well his aunts and uncles tell him it’s just like his mom’s. “I’m pretty sure this was partially a coping strategy,” he reflects. “I didn’t know how to grieve the loss, but I was trying to [share] my mom’s cooking legacy.” 

Barya also carries inspiration from other San José cuisines that Reyes grew up with. He’s taken the familiar Mexican, Vietnamese, and American styles and created his own version of traditional Filipino dishes. And he found a business partner and girlfriend, co-owner Selina Wong, through the business too. “She played a big role in keeping my dreams alive,” Reyes says.

Vietnamese Eatery

Known for friendly staff and a small but well-kept restaurant, Mommy’s Bánh Mì serves the most perfectly juicy lemongrass chicken you can imagine. Its home-cooked comfort food, including bánh mì and vermicelli bowls, pay homage to Curtis Lai’s mom. 

The ever-so-popular cilantro aioli sauce comes straight from her recipe. It’s a sauce that a customer once claimed changed their life, and the bright green color promises freshness and a pleasant creamy taste.

Lai also spent a year learning to bake bread so that the restaurant could feature fresh loaves made every morning, and they make a satisfying crunch when squeezed. And that dedication is apparent in every dish on the menu he crafted in honor of his mother.

Cambodian Cuisine

Angkor Chef owner Channy Laux does it all. She preserves her mother’s memory through recipes, shares cult classic foods with fresh and fine-tuned ingredients, and through sharing traditional Cambodian foods in a warm, friendly atmosphere allows for customers to see a sweeter side of Cambodia that many of her patrons crave. 

Like many Cambodian Americans, Laux has a complicated relationship with her culture and heritage. For her, building the Angkor Chef atmosphere is about memory. “The music [we play] is important to me because I wanted to have all of us, including myself, to remember things that happened before the genocide.” This intentionality, coupled with the thoughtfully prepared herbal dishes, has given Laux major street cred. Often, Cambodians in San José will tell her, “I stopped going out to eat. But my kid told me that your restaurant is real Cambodian food.” 

Although Laux and her mother didn’t talk much about the tragedies their people experienced before moving to the United States, it’s very much a part of why she has her restaurant. Laux left her biotech job after her mother passed as a way of processing her grief. “I felt like, what have I been doing? Nothing,” shares the accomplished former engineer, “Nothing, if I did not bring her memory up front.” 

Laux’s food products were pioneers, often the first introduction many had to a new culture. She recognizes the importance. “You don’t want to get off on the wrong foot,” she says. It’s why she insisted on using glass jars, not plastic, for her shelf-stable products; on finding family farms who would grow specific spices and vegetables just for small Southeast Asian food operations like hers. And it’s paid off through the taste of Laux’s award-winning lemongrass paste and the warm comfort served in banana leaf bowls at this special San José destination.

Italian American Food

There’s a reason Bertucelli’s Italian American deli is always packed. They’ve been a stalwart neighborhood anchor in Willow Glen since 1947, serving up perfectly pillowy ravioli and a menu of sandwiches that would take years to fully appreciate. The lines are long but things move quickly in the neat, organized little shop. Plates of perfectly powdered cannolis on a classic rotating carousel cabinet beckon to patrons, another made-fresh daily special. 

Times have changed for the little restaurant; the owner, Chris Bertucelli, recently passed, and leaves behind a family restaurant that serves staples of generational food history. The must-have? A sandwich called the Chris Combo that has a loyal following from patrons including major sports teams who have made it part of their post-game ritual. He invented the off-menu delight as a teenager, combining secret ingredients and a satisfying melt of cheese with warm, soft bread. It’s a delectable legacy for a community champion.

Southern Comfort and Soul Food

If you’re in San José, you need someone to fix you a plate of Uncle Greg’s Ribs at Jackie’s Place. Kiana Jackson, one of Jackie’s daughters, jokes that this soul food and Southern comfort food destination is one of her mother’s babies. “Jackie has become a pivotal person in the community. She has a really big heart,” Jackson shares. From feeding the homeless to keeping an authentic cooking tradition alive, the namesake hasn’t just created a place to find increasingly rare dishes. Jackie’s Place also uplifts other Black businesses, serving E. Cuarenta Tequila and flights of Black Girl Magic wines alongside family dishes like Jackie’s mom Laverne’s Sweet Potato Pie. “It means tradition. It means origin and roots,” Jackson says. 

Each dish is like a member of the family. Uncle Greg himself taught his sister how to marinate and what seasons to use on the ribs. The sides are reminiscent of Thanksgiving on any given day, dishes that are both filling and comforting. And so is the food prep.

Jackie has always cooked family-style, finding ways to fill eight people’s bellies with classics like smothered chicken. Jackson laughs, “If you smother it in gravy, you really can’t go wrong.” But even when trying to feed the masses, the restaurant still makes the greens from scratch. 

“It’s a little piece of San José,” says Jackson. “The soul, the love, you know, it’s always like family when you walk through the doors.”

Portuguese Food

Adega, Portuguese for wine cellar, and its casual sister Petiscos, are a hallmark of San José’s Little Portugal story. For over a decade, Adega has paired the flavor profiles from a stunning collection of over 100 Portuguese wines with dishes like peixe, swordfish cooked in a white wine dill sauce, or pastel de bacalhau, salt cod fritters. 

And Petiscos offers a laid-back but equally sharply designed menu, tenders dishes like pig’s ear salad and cuttlefish tempura alongside some of the prettiest cocktails in San José. Both present home-kitchen heritage and cultural pride, no matter what kind of mood you’re in. 

Northern-style Vietnamese Food

If you find yourself in need of falling-off-the-bone beef or the refreshing effects of salted plum soda, Pho Ha Noi is your go-to. This Northern-style pho restaurant knows exactly how much you crave both rich broth and enthusiastic service, and they’re willing to put in the time to showcase both. 

One patron notes they’re so used to their mom’s pho that this is the only place they’ll eat out, not an unusual sentiment for the many loyal patrons who proclaim this to be the best Vietnamese you can get in all of San José.

Lorena Vidrio and her mother, Carmen Vidrio, want you to understand that they’re doing something different. Acopio’s signature dish, mole con pato, is from Lorena’s paternal grandmother, but she insists, “you wouldn’t find this dish in a grandma’s kitchen.” Through creative experimentation, they’ve found ways to innovate and elevate traditional Mexican dishes while displaying a deep respect for other San José cultures. Fermented ingredients, delicate salsa, and a fierce dedication to the restaurant’s concept make everything on Acopio’s menu so much more than a meal. “You’re coming to experience the results of our creativity,” Vidrio explains. 

Vidrio’s mother still works at the original Taqueria Lorena, the family’s longstanding fast-food concept that began in the late 1970s. The mother-daughter pair are both involved in day to day operations at both, lending ingredients like the in-house chorizo so that there are some consistent themes whether you’re in a hurry or wanting to splurge on a celebration. The taqueria is their foundation, Vidrio explains. Because their family is from the coastal city of Manzanillo in Colima, Mexico, there are even seafood items, admittedly not typical of a taqueria. Try the beef torta. The restaurant’s namesake says it’s her second favorite, behind the shrimp soup. “I don’t know why,” Vidrio says. “But it just tastes so satisfying. It’s very earthy and just… homey.”

Distance doesn’t seem to matter when it comes to feeling homesick. Whether you’re in town for a quick weekend trip or traveling internationally for business, the foods and drinks at these restaurants will stir something in you–a memory of home, even if it’s someone else’s memory you’re borrowing in front of you on the plate. 

This article was produced in collaboration with an advertiser. Nevertheless, we retained full editorial control throughout the process and affirm that all opinions and statements expressed are our own.