Remembering La Lupita, Another Mom-and-Pop Business That Suddenly Shut Down

We all have places we take for granted, be they eateries, corner stores, bodegas, or mom-and-pop video rental spots. One of these places in Mérida’s García Ginerés neighborhood was Locheria La Lupita. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when La Lupita first opened, but almost everyone agrees it sat there on the corner of Calle 7 and Calle 22 for at least six decades.

La Lupita was known primarily for its panuchos and salbutes, which are, of course, staples of Yucatecan antojitos or snack food. They also served nice turkey sandwiches, queso Napolitano, and tiny burgers with pickled onions. When I was a kid, on Sundays, my dad would always pick me up a panucho and a salbut so that I could gobble them up while watching “El Chavo del Ocho” on our little black-and-white television set. This was, of course, for a little kid, the only silver lining of it being Sunday night. 

I have countless fond memories tied up with La Lupita. From time to time, on cooler evenings, my mom would send me over (just two short blocks) for a couple of portions of turkey soup, which they would promptly fill up in a pot from our kitchen. Then there was our neighborhood friend, Maro, who has long since moved to Cancún. Though he was probably just 17 or 18 at the time, to me he seemed like a full-grown man, especially because he would often have girls come visit him who I would inevitably be introduced to and taken to La Lupita for an ice cream — in part probably to show that “he was a good guy,” which he was.

On Sunday nights, La Lupita was usually fairly full, with large extended families pulling tables together for a simple meal, with the image of La Virgen de Guadaulpe (La Lupita herself) overlooking the proceedings. There were no menus. Why would anyone need that? Everyone who went to La Lupita knew exactly what was on offer, though some of the most popular items and their prices were painted on the wall.

When my grandmother was still alive, my dad would send me to get her a tamal colado, a kind of undercooked large tamal. I could not stand the smell of it, let alone eat it, but she loved it. Getting it was a hit-and-miss affair, as they did not always make them, and I suspect they were a bit of a niche product only abuelas enjoyed.

Soft drinks aside, La Lupita always had a good assortment of fruit juices—everything from orange to guayaba and melon—and the perennial Mexican options of jamaica and horchata. 

During the mid-1990s, when Mexico went through its worst economic crisis in living memory, La Lupita endured, though the slices of avocado on the panuchos and salbutes became ever thinner, until they were replaced by cucumber. Even at 10 years old, I understood these must be lean times. Eventually, to my relief, the avocado came back as a sense of uneasy normality returned to the country.

When I found out in shock that it had closed, I felt genuinely sad, but in a way, it makes sense. After all, the surrounding streets have been converted from family homes into businesses, which means all those old ladies with purple hair who used to drag their grandkids to the eatery are likely gone as well. Demographics and changing preferences aside, it’s also true that La Lupita did not do much to innovate. They had no social media presence to speak of, and the place was not “Instagramable” because of its poor lighting and perpetually chipping paint. It probably did not help that if you search for “La Lupita” on Google, you get hundreds of results. I would not be surprised if “La Lupita” was the most common business name in all of Mexico. But for those of us who loved it, none of that mattered. 

In all honesty, La Lupita was good, but it was unlikely the best panucho joint in town, no matter how much my entire family swears it was. It was modest, cozy, and always there — until last week. The closure came without warning, and I have no idea what exactly happened, but I hope that everyone who worked there, a handful of them throughout its entire existence, is OK.