There is such a thing as “happy food.”
I first tasted Chef Luis Navarro’s version of it last December, when he invited me to dinner for no other reason than the joy of cooking. Out came two flour tortillas—stretchy, warm, imperfectly beautiful—stacked with thick slices of octopus, a crunch of cabbage, a snowfall of cotija, and a creamy, citrus-laced drizzle.
“Why aren’t these on the menu at Lola’s?” I asked. He laughed, then sighed. “They were once. But no one ordered them.”
In that quiet admission sat something heavy—a reminder that a dish close to his heritage could feel too foreign to the patrons who had helped make his family’s dream a success. People wanted enchiladas suiza. They wanted chicken burritos. They wanted the familiar, not the new. And for Navarro, that meant repetition, not exploration.
Carrying legacy and loss, Chef Luis Navarro’s culinary history wasn’t something he necessarily sought on his own…
To understand Navarro’s food, you have to understand his story. When his mother, Maria Dolores Navarro, passed away from cancer just two years after opening the original Lola’s, Luis—still raising a young son with his wife Brenda—was thrust into leadership. Retro Row’s dining scene was still finding its footing, and Navarro suddenly became not just a restaurateur but a community figurehead.
With time, Lola’s became synonymous with Long Beach itself—showing up at nearly every fundraiser, charity event, and cultural gathering in the city. But success came with weight. To keep customers returning, Navarro often leaned into crowd-pleasers, even when they didn’t reflect the food he most loved. There were moments—like overhearing a customer ask for cheddar on their tacos—when that dissonance hit harder than expected.
Juggling two Lola’s locations, The Social List, and the city’s first formal distillery, Portuguese Bend, while maintaining a tireless smile took its toll. For the first time in his two-decade career, Navarro stepped away. “I needed to breathe,” he said. That pause became the most important ingredient of his career.
Rediscovering himself—and his community—through food
Time off has a way of clearing the mental clutter, and for Navarro, it clarified a choice: he could continue to serve what people expected—or finally show them who he is. He chose the latter.
The updated Lola’s menu doesn’t abandon the classics (don’t worry, enchiladas suiza still hold court), but it stretches toward something more personal. Now, dishes like cochinita pibil, slow-cooked in banana leaves for six hours, shimmer with the deep achiote and salt of Yucatán, layered with garlicky black beans and topped with bright pickled onions. It’s the kind of dish that tells you Navarro’s been eating and learning across Mexico, not just cooking from memory.
Then there’s the mole negro, dark and complex as midnight, draped over tender duck breast—a nod to Oaxaca and perhaps the most beautiful thing the kitchen has turned out yet. His birria, a tribute to his mother’s Jalisciesne roots, now stands in full traditional form, bathed in its own broth, fragrant with guajillo and ancho chiles, waiting for you to tear and dip at your own rhythm.
And yes, those octopus tacos finally made their return—joined by a pulpo-and-shrimp ceviche and a decadent octopus quesadilla. They’re playful but disciplined, the food of a chef who’s learned not just to please, but to express.
Whimsical’n’witty, Chef Luis Navarro would have a Mexican goldmine if he keeps the consistency and quality (just fix those damn tortillas).
There’s even whimsy to spare: a watermelon salad kissed with guava vinaigrette and Tajín, like the most elegant fruit cart moment imaginable. Cocktails match the energy—think coconut margaritas so smooth they feel tropical, or a yuzu-orgeat tequila drink that’s sunbeam-bright and utterly original.
All of it feels like an invitation back into Navarro’s headspace, one of joy and curiosity—a return to happy food.
For the faithful, the chicken burrito and enchiladas will always have their place. But for those ready to follow Navarro’s lead, there’s pulpo, cochinita pibil, mole, and birria waiting to tell a deeper story.
Because Lola’s isn’t just a restaurant—it’s the ongoing love letter of a chef who, after years of giving to his city, finally remembered to give something back to himself. Now, just get rid of those damn Guererro tortillas and get a tortilla lady.
Lola’s Mexican Cuisine is located at 2030 E. Fourth St. and 4140 Atlantic Ave.
