Make Yourself at Home

Dinner service has begun, and the front room is full.

A heart-shaped neon sign glows overhead. A game plays on television. A devotional image, a first-aid chart, and handwritten menus share the walls.

Dressed in black, a woman stands beside the counter with her hands in her apron pockets and watches the room move around her: half-finished plates, laughter, and glasses meeting across the tables.

The restaurant is called Xochimilco, after the canals, flower boats, and weekend music of a district south of Mexico City.

When the Mata family took over the restaurant in 2006, the former owner left one request: keep the name. They did, and tried to preserve its spirit—a colorful, lively place that could feel like home.

Long before a guest walks through the door, the day begins with carrying, washing, cutting, wiping, and sorting.

It was supposed to be temporary

The Mata family comes from Acatlán de Osorio in Puebla, Mexico.

When Rafael Mata first arrived in New York, he carried a plan familiar to many immigrants: work for a few years, save money, and return home. Life did not follow the script.

He and Suzanna built a family in New York. Their children were born and educated here. A temporary plan slowly became a life.

Before taking over Xochimilco, Rafael spent years in restaurants, learning service and kitchen work. Suzanna worked as a barista at a university in Manhattan.

When the opportunity came in 2006, neither of them could afford to leave their existing jobs immediately. Their children helped between school and work because the family could not afford for the restaurant to fail.

Rafael did not finish college himself. Watching his children graduate became part of what he was proud to have built in New York.

Before a plate reaches the table

"We casually say a number, but it is a lot of work," Jordana Mata said. "A lot of sacrifice and many sleepless nights."

Down a narrow staircase, staff wash, cut, and prepare ingredients in the basement.

For Giovanni Mata, the difficulty of running a neighborhood restaurant extends beyond the kitchen: rent, food costs, weather, staffing, city regulations, and the uncertain flow of customers.

To find the ingredients the restaurant depends on, he sometimes drives across the city and visits several Mexican markets in Queens.

The trunk fills with cases of produce and bags of supplies. They travel from Queens markets back to Melrose Avenue, where another service will begin.

Food as recognition

"For someone who had to leave home for a better life, a plate of food can send them back, even when home is thousands of miles away," Jordana Mata said.

At 653 Melrose Avenue, the restaurant sits among the South Bronx neighborhoods of Melrose, Longwood, and Hunts Point. For many customers, it is a familiar room in a city far from home.

On Thursday nights, that feeling rises with the music. When dinner slows, the soundboard lights up and a purple microphone turns the front room into a stage.

People come not only to eat, but to be remembered, sing a song, and feel the steadiness of being at home.

Like a family

Regulars are recognized. When Rafael or Suzanna is away, customers ask about them. Guests return carrying new chapters of their lives: partners, children, birthdays, anniversaries, and old stories.

"We love our customers and the friendships that grew here," Jordana Mata said. "Some were single when we met them. Now they are married and have children. We built one big family."

Please, make yourself at home.