It happened over breakfast. Forty years ago, Blanca Aldaco sliced open a cantaloupe, removed the seeds and carved out the flesh. She shaped the mesocarp into little balls, placed them back into the rind with soft scrambled eggs a la Mexicana and served the dish to her boyfriend.
“This is really good,” Charlie Garza said. “You should open a restaurant.”
Four years later, at age 26, she did. With no culinary or business training, Aldaco opened her first dining spot in a small house on Commerce Street. Her cooking attracted customers. Her effervescent personality kept them coming back.
Today, Aldaco’s Mexican Cuisine sits on the crown of a hill in Stone Oak with a sweeping patio view of the Hill Country.
One measure of success is the packed dining room. Another is a litany of awards for best margaritas, enchiladas verdes and pastel tres leches.
Then there is this: The Texas Restaurant Association named Aldaco “Outstanding Restaurateur of the Year” in 2023. Every accolade, however, pales to an event that unfolded 15 years ago.
Aldaco’s serves classic Mexican food with a twist, like crunchy guacamole flautas, shrimp enchiladas and carne asada a la brava. Credit: Amber Esparza / San Antonio Report
“My most proud moment,” she said with a Mexican accent, “was becoming an American citizen in 2008.”
Seated at Trinity University’s Laurie Auditorium, Aldaco watched as President George W. Bush appeared on a large screen and welcomed her and fellow immigrants to the U.S. The national anthem played. Fighter jets zoomed across the sky.
“I was bawling,” she said. “It was a very emotional moment. I was very proud.”
Aldaco was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. She grew up watching her maternal grandmother prepare soups and salsas. She observed the details, savored the flavors and made mental notes.
As a pre-teen, she began flying to San Antonio to visit an aunt and attend summer camps in the Hill Country. She’d awaken to a trumpet call at 6 a.m. and shuffle out of bed to salute the American flag. She took canoeing classes, went horseback riding and fired a bow and arrow.
“And there were nightly escapades,” said Aldaco, who spoke little English at the time. “I was there for a whole month. Those are great memories.”
Back in Mexico, her parents separated. At 13, Aldaco moved with her mother and sisters to Eagle Pass, along the border. During summers and winter breaks, the girls visited their father in Guadalajara.
“I lived in two worlds,” she said, dark eyes filling with light. “I had a home here and a home there.”
The back-and-forth continued for years. After graduating from high school in 1980, Aldaco returned to Guadalajara, then moved back to Eagle Pass in 1984 to work in a hotel.
A minimum-wage, front desk hotel job led her to San Antonio in January 1985, days after the city was buried in 13 ½ inches of snow. “There was still snow on the ground when I got here,” she said.
Bar Lead Alex Soto has been behind the bar at Aldaco’s for 13 years. Credit: Amber Esparza / San Antonio Report
Earning only $3.35 an hour, Aldaco took two more jobs to pay her bills. Four months after arriving in San Antonio, a friend took her to a concert at the Sunken Garden Theater.
Inside a VIP tent, she noticed a cute guy speaking with a beautiful woman. Aldaco and the man made eye contact. Relaxed with a beer or two in her system, she motioned him over with her finger. To her astonishment, he left the woman and approached.
What should she do?
Aldaco said, “I’d like to introduce you to my friend.” But when she turned, the friend was gone. “Oh my God,” she said, turning back to the man. “I want to meet you anyway.”
Days later, Charlie Garza and Blanca Aldaco went out for drinks. On their second date, she took her 30-minute break at work to go with Garza to a Market Square cantina. Aldaco lost track of time and called hotel colleagues to apologize. “Guys, I’m in love,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
A supervisor reprimanded Aldaco. She held onto her job and imagined a future with Garza until he told her, “I don’t date exclusively.”
When Garza called, Aldaco told her roommate to say she was out. When he reached her, he asked, “Where were you?” She told him she was with an architect. Another time she said she was with an accountant. Then a petroleum engineer.
“It kind of went on like that for a while,” she said. “And then eventually we made it and became one.”
They began looking for a place to start a restaurant. In 1989, Aldaco’s opened at St. Paul Square with 13 tables. Her warmth and charm captivated customers, who kept the place bustling. Six years later, she moved to a larger space with 48 tables at Sunset Station.
“I needed skates!” Aldaco said.
In 1999, Texas Monthly named Aldaco’s among the top 75 Mexican restaurants in the state. Aldaco’s also ranked among the busiest, drawing huge crowds from the Alamodome that year as the Spurs’ playoff run culminated with their first NBA championship.
Blanca Aldaco with Chef Andres Rodriguez Credit: Courtesy / Blanca Aldaco
The flourishing business demanded more space. In 2008, Aldaco’s moved to its current location in Stone Oak with 66 tables. Andres Rodriguez has grown with the restaurant, from line cook in 1989 to chef 36 years later.
His boss calls him “El Rey de Aldaco,” which translates to “The King of Aldaco’s.” Fittingly, the king has a dish named after him, the San Andres: bacon wrapped shrimp doused in a secret sauce and served with rice and beans.
“It is a big blessing for me to see the growth of Aldaco’s and more satisfactorily that we provide for 15 families in the kitchen alone,” Rodriguez said. “We work in harmony and this makes us family. What drives my passion for my job is to see the satisfied clients over the decades still enjoying our savory cuisine.”
Aldaco’s influence has spread beyond Stone Oak. She serves as president of the San Antonio chapter of the Texas Restaurant Association. At the capitol in Austin, she advocates for restaurant-friendly legislation. Across the city and state, she supports charitable causes.
The girl from Guadalajara never imagined the life she has now. Shaking margaritas. Serving dishes with rich Mexican flavors. Spreading laughter and joy on a hill high above the city she calls home.