Saturday night somehow sneaked up on us. It was already 8 p.m., and our 9-year-old decided she wanted a night out. We were exhausted and not in the mood for a drive downtown. That is what happens when you have kids later in life.

I am usually the high-maintenance one, the person who questions and vetoes every suggestion. The restaurant has to look a certain way, and even the drinks must be served properly, in the right glassware.

I still have not forgotten being served a weiss beer in the wrong glass at The Bayou more than a decade ago. We never went back.

So when my husband suggested a Mexican restaurant (with five star reviews) in Sandy, just four miles from home, I didn’t object, even after hearing they didn’t serve margaritas. That alone should tell you how tired I was. 

So somehow, I found myself in the car, on the way to El Puerto Artisan Mexican Restaurant, with no promise of a margarita and very low expectations.

We walked into a small space, maybe a dozen tables. Most of the people inside were speaking Spanish. I took that as a good sign.

Before I could even think about scanning a QR code, a waiter appeared with physical menus. I do so appreciate not having to squint at my phone just to read the menu descriptions. He went over all the drinks and even brought us samples: four flavors of horchata, and something called tepache. I will admit, I had never heard of it. Tepache, as it turns out, is a traditional Mexican drink made from fermented pineapple skins, passed down for centuries. 

If left long enough, it becomes alcoholic. Ours did not make it that far. It was caught somewhere in between—light, slightly tangy, refreshing. I would categorize it as kombucha meets pineapple juice, but better without the wet socks aftertaste.

Then came the chips. Still warm. Four different salsas. My daughter, making decisions based purely on color, chose the habanero. Within seconds, she had red cheeks and watery eyes. Lesson learned.

Then, inevitably, she spilled her entire glass of juice, ice included, all over the table.

Two waiters appeared instantly with no trace of annoyance. Within seconds, everything was cleaned, and a fresh drink was in front of her. That moment told me more about the place than any menu description could.

I ordered enmoladas, a dish I had never tried before. Four soft tortillas filled with melted cheese and shredded chicken, covered in a house-made mole with 26 ingredients, Veracruz-style. Topped with cream, fresh cheese, and onions.

And they also list the calories. 580.

I liked that number immediately. It felt so comforting compared to the 1,800-calorie situations one walks into at places like Cheesecake Factory.

My daughter and I have an arrangement. She helps me manage the realities of middle age and metabolism. We share meals. It works surprisingly well for a 9-year-old with a teenager’s attitude and a very adult palate.

Cheese quesadillas are beneath her.

At the end of our meal, I had to threaten her not to lick the plate in public. That is where the “9-year-old” still shows up.

My husband ordered the Super Picada. A handmade tortilla layered with four meats, topped with cream, cheese, onions, beans, salsa, and mole. It seems that our family has a strong and immediate loyalty to mole.

And this is where El Puerto separates itself.

The mole here is not just another version. It is a blend of three generations—grandmother, mother, and now the current owner, Ariane Alvarez. Three recipes combined into one.

You can taste that it does not belong to a single chef. It belongs to a lineage.

Her husband, Arminio Reynos, explained that their goal is not to compete in the endless cycle of tacos and burritos. Not that there is anything wrong with those. But Mexican cuisine is far more complex than what most menus suggest. Their focus is on bringing back dishes that are harder to find, even in places that claim authenticity.

Their culinary roots go back more than 30 years in Veracruz, where the restaurant tradition began with the grandmother, continued with the mother, and is now carried forward by the granddaughter.

Utah is a much newer chapter.

They started here just a few years ago. First cooking from home, then operating for a year inside a space in West Valley, and then opening this Sandy location three years ago to better serve a growing base of loyal customers from across the valley.

Arminio described it simply: every plate carries history. Everything is made from scratch, with love.

And that is exactly how it feels.

Many of their customers are from Veracruz and keep coming back for food that reminds them of home.

At the same time, people who did not grow up with these flavors (like yours truly) appreciate it just as much.

Many first-time customers ask them the same question: Where have you been all this time?

By the end of the meal, I had completely forgotten about the missing margarita.

Which tells you everything you need to know.