I Forfeited My Sight, My Shoes, and My Assumptions About Mexican Spirits at This Los Cabos Resort

Taking a look around before losing my sight (electively)

I’ve made a hobby of mentally assigning a color palette to every destination I visit. Cabo is cerulean blue, butter yellow, and cacti green, accented by tropical magenta flowers in bloom.

This was my first time in Los Cabos. My first good look at the Sea of Cortez came framed like a giant picture across the lobby. Then another great view caught my eye: a cocktail bar.

Permission to exhale from my travel day came in the form of a salt-rimmed margarita, gifted to me by gracious hosts who made check-in so easy. It had been years since I’d stayed at an all-inclusive resort, and that childlike, giddy feeling of Wait, I really can have anything I want here? came rushing back before I’d even seen my room.

Lucía, who became a friend during my stay, showed me to my room along pretty pathways lined with tropical flowers and agave, with coconut palms and birds flying overhead.

My jaw dropped when I saw my suite. It had more square footage than my apartment, two bathrooms with a soaking tub and rainfall shower, and a spacious balcony overlooking the infinity pool and the sea beyond it.

I happily savored a few bites of the charcuterie board waiting for me, showered with luxurious soaps, and got ready for a dinner unlike anything I’d experienced before.

Dining in the Dark: The best dinner I couldn’t see

I was led to a table overlooking the beach, where dramatic waves crashed against the rocky coastline. It was golden hour, and the sky began to resemble a mix of orange and raspberry sorbet. In retrospect, it was a comically beautiful view, considering I was about to lose my ability to see any of it.

Lucky for me, I got to enjoy the view with a celebratory glass of Spanish Cava before a blindfold was placed over my eyes. What followed was a five-course meal from Chef Irving, paired with sommelier Consuelo’s wine selections, and delivered to my table by my server, Ramón.

Before we began, they asked if I had any allergies or dietary restrictions. I said that I didn’t, happily withholding my slight intolerance to dairy rather than risk missing out on a potential crema sauce or tres leches dessert. (For the record: You can be honest. Every dish will be perfect.)

Each course began with a pour from Consuelo, who talks about wine the way you wish more people talked about anything. I want her to narrate every audiobook I listen to. She made every sip a fascinating story, and described how different flavors are enhanced when paired with different foods. While we were blindfolded, she invited us to note what we smelled and to guess the grape, the region, the country.

At first I was a little timid. I wasn’t certain that I knew enough about wine for the challenge ahead. But Consuelo nudged me to trust my instincts. Wine, like food, is subjective. It’s creative. Appreciating it is an art.

Like the wine, every dish arrived as a mystery to solve, bite by bite, which felt like playing the most delicious game. From chicken gyoza with ginger and serrano chili to savory miso soup with Mexican ingredients, I was invited to try to identify every flavor and texture.

Was that impossibly buttery, perfectly seared fish in the third-course halibut? Nope. It was sea bass. A refreshing rambutan granita, whose fruit I learned was like a lychee, served as a palate cleanser. Then came another entrée: short rib with creamy rice and smoked Parmesan, followed by a caramel fondant with yogurt ice cream and handcrafted chocolates.

While blindfolded, my other senses heightened to compensate. I greeted every bite with curiosity and enthusiasm, learning to note flavors, textures, temperatures, and how each sip of wine brought a new color to the palate.

Sunrise, ceviche, and a day by the sea

Day two began the way I want every morning of my life to start: watching the sunrise at the beach, waves crashing against the rocks. Skittish crabs expertly navigated the terrain, disappearing into their secret hideouts whenever I became too curious.

I had breakfast at Viña del Mar, an expansive buffet with equally satisfying sea views, and spent the rest of the day hopping between the pools (yes, plural) and the beach.

A good playlist set the mood, and Spanish conversations floated through the air. Lively entertainment popped up throughout the day, and there were also plenty of quiet corners to disappear into with a book.

Lunch was the best fish tacos I’ve ever eaten at La Cevichería, and it lived up to its name with delicious ceviche and aguachile. I gave everything a good squeeze of lime, and had myself the best Baja lunch with the prettiest view to match.

More than tequila: The Ancestral Spirits Trail

That evening’s experience corrected an assumption I didn’t realize I was carrying: that Mexican spirits start and end with tequila and mezcal. If Dining in the Dark the night before incorporated flavors from around the world, the Ancestral Spirits Trail placed me squarely in Mexico, looking out across another vista.

Ivonne, our host for the evening, walked us through a tasting of tequila, bacanora (originally from Sonora), mezcal, raicilla (originally from Jalisco and parts of Nayarit), and sotol (originally from the Chihuahuan Desert region). Three of those were new words in my vocabulary, and for a moment I felt the familiar uncertainty of encountering something I didn’t yet know much about.

But Ivonne made it feel accessible. Each pour came with a story of its place in Mexico’s history, and I loved the layers of cultural context she brought to each one.

Before each sip, she encouraged me to smell it and study its clarity and texture. Every spirit came with a bite — beef jerky, citrus dusted with salt and cinnamon, jicama lollipops with lemon zest — each designed to change how the spirit tasted from one sip to the next.

Ivonne explained that unlike the other spirits we tried, which are made from agave, sotol is distilled from a different desert plant entirely. It was banned in Mexico for decades, until sotoleros fought to bring the spirit back into legal production in 1994.

By the end of the evening, I understood how much history can live in a single pour, and I made my way to El Mexicano for dinner in great spirits.

Dinner at El Mexicano was another colorful, memorable meal. Guacamole made tableside by my friendly server, Salvador, tasted incredible, alongside chips still warm from the kitchen and a grapefruit margarita that made me forget about the Baja heat.

Chef Carlos’ dishes kept outdoing themselves. Enchiladas, huarache (a masa-based street food), surf and turf… just when I thought I’d found my favorite bite of the night, the next one would arrive and reset the bar.

Just before dessert, I questioned if I had room for one more indulgence. But when a chocolate tamale with guajillo chile and cardamom ice cream was placed before me, I found the challenge more than acceptable and finished my plate.

Meditation and aromatherapy at the SOMMA WineSpa

My final full day in Los Cabos began with another sunrise. I went for a morning swim in the sea, accompanied by colorful, curious fish, before stopping by the spa’s rooftop terrace for a wellness meditation with Itzae.

The weather seemed to participate, moving through its own little meditative cycle. I inhaled the salt air, felt the sun on my skin, then a drizzle of rain, followed by the kind of ethereal light that tells your senses a rainbow is near. Itzae’s warm, positive energy was another form of sunshine.

Breakfast at La Península included a freshly baked scone and passionfruit-mango jam that I confess I’ve thought about daily since returning home.

I ordered green juice, fruit, and huevos rancheros. That was around the time I first caught Pancho the iguana’s eye. Pancho modeled proudly on a nearby rock, face raised toward the sun with waves crashing in the background, only abandoning his seaside perch to hustle for scone crumbs. Pancho lives a good life.

That afternoon, I stepped into the scent of tangerines at SOMMA WineSpa, which is designed like a wine cellar. The spa staff welcomed me with warm smiles, a chilled glass of Champagne, and a soft robe.

I enjoyed a relaxing 80-minute hot stone massage with Lily, then spent the next hour drifting between the steam room, sauna, hot tub, and pool, a welcome detox after a night of generous pours.

The Harvest Ritual: A Taste of Mexico, From Grape to Glass

The last immersive experience was the perfect finale to my time in Los Cabos. It began with an explanation of the harvest tradition, followed by an invitation to remove my shoes and step into a bucket of grapes. As the sun began to set, I felt the grapes bursting beneath my feet as I took part in a ritual that has marked the beginning of harvest season for centuries. Afterward, I was treated to a foot bath and massage. It was my favorite kind of surprise and a lovely way to transition into the evening.

As the sunlight disappeared, Consuelo reappeared for a tasting of Mexican wines while Ángel, the server, lit the fire pit and torches, the crackle of the fire and smell of woodsmoke mixing with the ocean air.

On my first night, Consuelo had encouraged me to trust my instincts when I wasn’t sure I knew enough to have an opinion. She reminded me that the experience is personal, and that there is no wrong answer when you’re paying attention to what you taste, smell, and feel. That little bit of confidence stayed with me as each glass was paired with an hors d’oeuvre designed to bring out something specific in the wine.

The pairings were as thoughtful as they were delicious: spicy tuna cannoli with Monte Xanic Chardonnay, crispy Camembert with red berry sauce alongside Casa Madero Rosé, and beef satay with teriyaki sauce paired with Casa Madero Malbec. Each sip of wine transformed each bite, and I found myself going back and forth between the food and my glass to see how the flavors would surprise me.

Dinner, prepared by Chef David, was sublime: a Michoacán salad with strawberries and amaranth, followed by butter-poached Baja-style lobster with black beans and salsa macha.

And then, the dessert: a warm dulce de leche cake with cream cheese ice cream, as if they knew to combine my favorite ingredients for my final bite.

The real luxury of staying at Grand Fiesta Americana Los Cabos

I woke up feeling grateful, recalling a conversation I had with Lucía the night before. We agreed that when you leave a place, you may not remember all the details, but you will remember the feeling.

I will never know how that perfect bite of sea bass from my first night was plated, recall every detail of the spirits I tasted, or recite the tannin structure of the wines paired with dinner. But I will remember the people who brought those experiences to life: Lucía, Consuelo, Chef Irving, Ramón, Ivonne, Salvador, Chef Carlos, Itzae, Lily, Ángel, Chef David, and the many others who made every part of my stay feel warm, effortless, and personal.

I came to Los Cabos expecting beautiful scenery, good food, and a little indulgence. I left with something harder to put on an itinerary: a deeper way to experience a place through all five senses, guided by the people who know it best.

That’s the kind of luxury I’ll remember.