Like her cooking, Josefina López Méndez’ Mexico City restaurant—the airy, modern Chapulín—reveals itself slowly and in layers. From the street, you enter a nondescript hotel lobby. You climb expansive stone stairwells. You wind around balconies. Up more stairs. Then down a dark tunnel of undulating glass and wood. You’re almost there.

Finally, you are delivered to a dining room with massive open windows, lush greenery, fast-paced banda music. It is welcoming and warm and well worth the meandering journey. And that’s even before the food begins.

Méndez—who grew up watching the women of her town cook at festivals and wondering how she could turn that into a career—is from Oaxaca, but her cooking draws on traditions from across the country. That night, we start with the grasshopper tacos from which the restaurant takes its name. Grassy and delicious. Then bright, tender shrimp tacos. Then mole negro with beef.

But the star of the meal is the dish I least expected, so much so I almost didn’t order it. Caldo tlalpeño, a chicken soup.

That simplicity belies a staggering riot of flavors and textures that somehow come together. This is soup deconstructed. Or rather, to be constructed. It arrives as a bowl of rice and shredded chicken. Another bowl holds a rich broth of chipotle and tomato. Yet more bowls contain blanched green beans and carrots, raw zucchini, avocado, cilantro, lime wedges, a charred habanero salsa.

Each diner assembles as they see fit, spooning the ingredients into the rice and chicken, then ladling on the broth. The result is layer upon layer of flavor and texture, fresh meets char, tang meets savory, spice meets creamy, crunch meets supple. The effect is stupendous. Spiced and warm, yet light and bright, while also savory and rich. So much more than a simple chicken soup.