The first time I dined at Maria Isabel, the ceviche acapulqueño stood out mostly for being so beautifully composed. A mosaic of satin-soft scallops and shrimp, punctuated with cucumber and wedges of avocado, it has an elegance that rests on the depth of the amber broth beneath, brightened with citrus and a whisper of sweetness. 

On the second go-round, I knew the best bite would be the delicate crunch of the fried shrimp heads crowning the plate, each cloaked in a gently spicy batter. 

Then I learned that chefs Laura and Sayat Ozyilmaz had served a version of the dish at their wedding. But at the restaurant, they’ve swapped the traditional ingredients for housemade sour orange molasses and dried marigold flowers — a nod to the eastern Mediterranean cuisine served at their first restaurant, Dalida.

“Back at home in Acapulco, you’ll find that it is cooked with Fanta and ketchup,” explains Laura, who grew up in the Mexican state of Guerrero. “Of course, I was not gonna serve ketchup, right? But it’s basically one of the most famous dishes there. It’s very comforting, and it has a lot of meaning to the two of us.” 

Much of Maria Isabel’s menu holds meaning for the couple, who have become two of the city’s most beloved culinary talents. Their first baby, Dalida, which opened three years ago in the Presidio, takes the bulk of its inspiration from Sayat’s heritage. Their second puts Laura’s center stage. Taken at face value, Maria Isabel’s polished Cal-Mexican menu charms easily. But spend more time with it, and the attachment deepens into something even deeper.

For Dalida’s many fans, the vibes at Maria Isabel might feel vaguely familiar and utterly different at once. The sun-soaked main dining room and floral mural in the entryway call back to the first restaurant’s stunning, squarely feminine decor. But step into Maria Isabel’s bar, and it’s like spinning around to the dark side of the moon, where the walls are brushed in slate gray, the tables are comfortably crowded, and the energy is high. (This, in my opinion, is the preferred place to eat.)

You’ll also taste Dalida’s influence if you’re looking closely — or take the time to ask. For example, the queso and chorizo. In Guerrero, Laura explains, green chorizo might be studded with almonds and raisins. At Maria Isabel, the herbaceous links get texture from pistachios and dried sour cherries. Dried apricots adorn the slices of red chorizo, with both variations meant to be swaddled in tender sourdough tortillas, then layered with melted cheese and a smoky but citrus-forward salsa morita. 

The hefty appetizer is the only dish that comes with chewy, dinner-plate-size sourdough tortillas, which pay homage to both the San Francisco baking tradition and Laura’s father’s Sonoran roots. 

Masa, however, is central to the restaurant’s identity, and the team goes through the effort of nixtamalizing — processing dried corn into dough — in-house. The portion of the menu dedicated to maiz is where you’ll find one of the most understated delights: the triangular tetela, which sees a corn tortilla filled with thin slices of local artichokes over a bed of creamy and mild mole blanco. 

When it comes to the larger plates, I was most tempted during my first meal by the lamb ribs barbacoa. The tender meat slipped from the bone at the lightest touch, and I was perfectly content as I wrapped each hunk in a supple yellow corn tortilla and dunked it into a rich consomme. Then I laid eyes on the chicken milanesa as it floated through the dining room to another table. The fried cutlet was as thick as a T-bone steak; when cut into, a melange of peppers, chayote squash, nopales, and Oaxaca cheese oozed out. 

On the second visit, I learned that it’s not only a showstopper but also utterly delicious — and shockingly light, in part due to the salsa crudo underneath. Made with raw and blended tomatillos, jalapeños, cilantro, and lime, it’s vibrant and bracingly acidic, an ideal counterpoint to something cheese-filled and fried. “When I went to cooking school in Mexico City, there was this taco stand that only served milanesa tacos. We would escape whenever we had long breaks to eat at that stand,” Laura says. “I definitely think about the dishes that I remember the most, and they feel more satisfying and comforting to me. In every sense, to me, that dish kind of represents Mexico.” 

The beverage list deserves thorough exploration. Cocktails might push the boundaries of the casual drinker’s imagination with combinations like pox (the earthy and sweet Mexican spirit), guava, and chamomile. But one sip of a peppery Vesperado — essentially a gin martini by way of coastal Mexico — and you’ll be happy you opted for something more interesting than a margarita. Wines by the glass don’t stick to selections from south of the border but are all made by women, with plenty of interesting varietals, like a svelte white blend from Argentina’s Calingasta Valley.  

A second restaurant means that, for now, the husband-and-wife chefs are spending more time apart — Sayat at Dalida and Laura at Maria Isabel. It’s a transition they admit is difficult after years spent side by side. Still, Maria Isabel clearly opens a different register for Laura, giving her space to reveal a more personal side of her cooking.

Even if they’re no longer working side by side in the same kitchen, attentive diners can still trace the couple’s connection through the food — in the Dungeness crab torta ahogada, which incorporates a Turkish sweet red-pepper paste uncommon in Mexican cooking, or the pulpo enamorado tostada, finished with a housemade kosho made from seasonal citrus preserved at Dalida.