During times of frigid weather, I used to frequent Obelisco, a homey Mexican restaurant by the Fruitvale BART station. I would defrost my soul with bowls of pozole verde, which had toothsome hominy and a tangy broth, or albondigas, a meatball and vegetable stew. It was the closest thing I could get to my mom’s cooking.<\/p>\n
After 17 years, Obelisco closed in 2024. But last August, it reopened in Oakland’s Lakeshore neighborhood, with a full-service model and a completely new look. Much of the interior was inherited from the previous tenant, Shakewell, such as the thin wood paneling that runs across the ceiling, petal-like light fixtures and a backlit bar with colorful wallpaper. Obelisco added new art to the dining room: a painting of a woman wearing a flower crown and a giant framed bow made from a rebozo, a Mexican shawl. But food remains the highlight, thanks to Leticia Ch\u00e1vez, a specialist for comida casera (home-style cooking).<\/p>\n
On a chilly night, I found great relief in her flautas, three crunchy dynamite sticks stuffed with potato, then garnished with lettuce, sour cream and tomato sauce. The latter was mellow in spice and warm in temperature, exuding rich savoriness and cozy affection. For extra heat,\u00a0 ask for habanero salsa.<\/p>\n
Her stews continue to be a balm for all of life’s ills. Sumptuous, hearty and fortifying, the albondigas stew features carrots, squash and mint-flecked meatballs, which are made from a blend of sirloin and thickened with rice instead of bread\u00a0– to the delight of her gluten-free clientele. The recipe is her mother’s. I loved the broth of her pozole verde\u00a0– tomatillos provided acid, green peppers lent a kick and epazote, in addition to other herbs, brought mellow pepperiness.<\/p>\n
Ch\u00e1vez believes the most important element to pozole is the grano, the hominy that she nixtamalizes in-house. She bathes corn kernels in calcium oxide, which alkalizes them and loosens their outer skins, then she pinches off the germ. It makes each one puffy, bouncy in chew and earthy-sweet in flavor. Canned hominy feels like a prank by comparison.<\/p>\n
Both stews are accompanied by soft, intoxicatingly aromatic yellow corn tortillas. Those, too, are made from nixtamalized corn, which she makes in-house but outsources the grinding. Soon, she hopes to add a mill to the restaurant. Additionally, she plans to use the dormant wood-fired oven to add smokiness to dishes like cochinita pibil.<\/p>\n
A native of Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Ch\u00e1vez began her business in 2007 under the name Taco Grill, before relocating across the street in 2014 and adopting the name Obelisco. Ch\u00e1vez tried to stay open in Fruitvale, but she was never able to recover from the effects of the pandemic. The plaza removed public parking, her restaurant was vandalized multiple times and sales plummeted. Ch\u00e1vez is resistant to paint Fruitvale as “negative” because it’s where she built her business, but she needed a change of scenery.<\/p>\n
She looked at buildings in San Ramon and Livermore, but she knew, deep down, that Obelisco belonged to Oakland. Although she’s acclimating to the new environment, she claims her loyal clientele has already found the new home. “I see it as a reflection of all the work we did in Fruitvale,” she said.<\/p>\n
Obelisco. 3407 Lakeshore Ave, Oakland. obeliscorestaurant.com<\/a><\/p>\n