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Travel + Leisure
22-05-2025
- Travel + Leisure
Mexico's Newest Luxury Resort Has a Plunge Pool in Every Room, a Mile-long Beach, and Mountain Villas on a 400-foot Peak
Each of the Rosewood Mandarina's chic and spacious 134 guest rooms has an outdoor area with a private plunge pool and loungers. La Cocina, the resort's all-day restaurant, serves up phenomenal Mexican food, including hand-pressed tortillas warmed over the comal , in an open-air dining room, decorated with handmade ceramic and Latin American objets d'art. , in an open-air dining room, decorated with handmade ceramic and Latin American objets d'art. In addition to the on-site activities, such as surfing and paddleboarding, guests also enjoy a variety of adventurous pursuits within the larger Mandarina complex like zip lining, golfing, and pickleball. The resort has four pools and a mile-long sandy beach along Riviera Nayarit, which is an emerging tourist destination between the Sierra Madre Mountains and the Pacific Ocean on Mexico's West Coast. I bit into a slice of charred watermelon—the sweet fruit extinguishing the heat from the jalapeños and zesty leche de tigre topping of my sea bass ceviche. I was sitting at my eight-seat teakwood dining table, steps away from the Pacific Ocean, burrowing my feet deeper and deeper into the sand. As I leaned back in my chair, I peeked my face out from under the shade of the table's umbrella, and let the bright sun warm my face. I'd arrived at the new Rosewood Mandarina, in Mexico's Riviera Nayarit, 40 minutes before, but I had already soaked in my beach suite's polished black Ekol plunge pool and finished a phenomenal lunch. Seated at the beachside dining table, I let the afternoon heat melt away the water droplets dotting my shoulders and the tension underneath. Real life—and real responsibility—already felt far away. Even the resort felt far away; A bridge over an estuary (home to my snappy crocodile neighbors) separated my room from the resort's main gathering areas. Rosewood Mandarina had opened only a few days prior, on May 15, and as the first journalist to see it, I had the nearly mile-long beach to myself. I have reported on almost 20 luxury resorts in Mexico—10 in Los Cabos, a handful on the Riviera Maya, and two just south of Mandarina in Punta Mita—and covered four Rosewood hotels, including the openings of Rosewood Vienna and Kona Village, a Rosewood Resort on the Island of Hawaii. I can honestly say the brand-new Rosewood Mandarina is at the top of my list of Mexican resorts to return to. It is a flawlessly executed, effortless resort vacation: an hour from the Puerto Vallarta airport via a new highway to a 565-acre resort complex that puts you within a four-minute golf cart ride of high-adrenaline adventures, such as zip lining and vertical hikes. What really puts it over the top for me is the stunning architecture by designer Caroline Meersseman of Bando x Seidel Meersseman and two exceptional restaurants helmed by a veteran Rosewood executive chef. View of the ocean from the Beachfront Suite Entry. On my first morning, I rode four zip lines across the Mexican jungle, before returning to my suite for a tall iced coffee and poolside chilaquiles with savory red sauce and a hefty sprinkling of cotija cheese. The next morning, I took a long walk on the beach, in the 6:30 a.m. haze, from my suite to the heart of the resort: La Cocina restaurant. I showed up with bare, sandy feet and sat in the open-air restaurant with a double espresso and a just-pressed green juice of spinach, pineapple, and ginger. Then, I dusted off my feet, put on my sneakers, and followed my guide into the jungle for a steep hike to an imposing, 500-year-old tree that Riviera Nayarit's Indigenous nations call the abuela (grandmother) tree. Each time I returned to the resort, I was tempted by the sprawling pool area, which has no fewer than four jade-colored Sukabumi stone pools with the front two sitting directly on the beach. But I always chose to return to my suite—the pull of the beachfront private plunge pool, perfectly heated to a walk-right-in temperature, was too strong. Scenic view of the beachfront suites. Maya Kachroo-Levine/Travel + Leisure Rosewood Mandarina isn't groundbreaking—major luxury developments with top hotels are popping up all over Central America, including in Baja California's Cabo del Sol, where a Four Seasons just opened, and Costa Palmas, which is slated to welcome an Aman this year; Costa Rica's Peninsula Papagayo, which just got a Ritz-Carlton Reserve; and the Riviera Maya's Kanai, with a new St. Regis and The Edition. But the execution of this resort—the service, the food, the striking design, with suites on the beach, flora-surrounded flatland rooms, and still-to-come mountain accommodations on a peak overlooking the crescent-shaped beach—is near perfect. 'There are three eco-systems within the resort: the beach, the flatlands, which feels like a jungle, and the mountain. It's like three boutique hotels instead of one big resort,' Juan Carlos Cardona Aquino, Rosewood Mandarina's managing director, tells me. And certainly, of all the luxury resorts in Mexico, this is one that travelers could come back to and have a different experience every time. This visit, I came by myself and spent my days zip lining, plunge pooling, and trying every local catch La Cocina and Spanish beach club Buena Onda restaurant could butterfly and grill or cube and serve up as ceviche. When I return, I'll bring my son and husband to stay at the mountain suites overlooking the coast. We'll come during polo season—yes, there's a polo club at the Mandarina complex that you may recognize from a certain Kendall Jenner photoshoot—and watch a match before dining at the alfresco Argentinian grill, Chukker, and making our way back to Rosewood's forthcoming mountaintop speakeasy. Here, my full review of the newest resort in Mexico, and the 33rd hotel in the Rosewood portfolio. The Oceanview Mountain Studio Suite's bedroom and terrace. Each of the Rosewood Mandarina's 134 guest rooms has a private plunge pool. Every piece of furniture, every light fixture, and every decor piece is custom made for the resort, with a lot of the wood accents and objets d'art (like the gorgeous tornillo wood dining tables and the beaded jewelry holders, made by the local Indigenous Wixárika, or Huichol, nation) crafted in Latin America. My beachfront premiere suite was right on the shore (a rarity on Mexico's Pacific Coast, where rooms are often set away from any beach with rougher water), with an outdoor lounge area that had a couch on one side and poolside loungers on the other. The bedroom felt enormous, with nearly 1,100 square feet, including 300 square feet of outdoor space. To get to my room, I would either walk along the beach from the main area of the resort or take the bridge over a scenic estuary that feeds into the Pacific Ocean. Currently, the beach and flatland suites—surrounded by lush native plants and blooming flowers and a short walk to the main pool area and two restaurants—are open. The 64 Mountain rooms, on a 400-foot peak gazing over the resort and mile-long beach, will debut in September. Guests will enjoy the tastes of authentic Mexican dining at La Cocina (The Kitchen). Rosewood knows great food, and Mandarina delivers fantastic Mexican food at all-day dining restaurant La Cocina and Spanish lunches and dinners at Buena Onda. La Cocina feels like a Mexican art gallery, with wooden shelving units displaying ceramics and beaded Wixárika-made figurines, light fixtures made of fine strands of rope, black-and-white woven side tables, and whimsical cushioned swings in the open-air dining room. I chose one of the beach tables for a dinner of charred shrimp aguachile and lobster tacos served with tortillas freshly pressed on the comal in the open kitchen. I finished it off with a carajillo cocktail, which I took with me as I walked down to the water, letting the ocean nip at my toes as the sun sank into the Pacific. Sit beachside and enjoy the Spanish coast cuisine of Buena Onda. Maya Kachroo-Levine/Travel + Leisure On my first night, I had the Nawa mocktail with tamarind and pineapple, and a platter of grilled seafood at Buena Onda. The Spanish-inspired restaurant, perched on the rocks on the far northern edge of the resort's elongated crescent–shaped beach, served up the famed Joselito jamon , imported from Jabugo, Spain, as an appetizer. It was the grilled prawns, octopus, and lobster, caught in the cool waters of the Pacific, brushed with olive oil and parsley, and served with a whole head of roasted garlic, that had me going in for seconds. Still to come: Toppu, a Nikkei restaurant, which is a Peruvian-Japanese fusion cuisine, and a speakeasy on the mountain. There are also restaurants within the 565-acre Mandarina complex, for guests of Rosewood, One&Only Mandarina, Mandarina residents, and the public, including Chukker, the Argentinian grill right alongside the polo field, where the kitchen is six grills under a tarp and the bar is built into a string light-heavy tree. It's exceedingly charming, as is the shared Mandarina beach club with Italian restaurant Allora. Panoramic views of the ocean from the beachfront infinity pool. Maya Kachroo-Levine/Travel + Leisure The main pool area is made up of four TK-foot-long pools, surrounded by gorgeous open-air wooden pavilions, and set along the mile-long beach with covered lounge chairs. Guests can surf and paddleboard at Rosewood's beach or take advantage of the myriad activities offered within the Mandarina complex, which includes the four-zip line course over the jungle that I loved. There are also tennis and pickleball courts, guided hikes, and a pristine nine-hole golf course. I toured the polo field and horse stables, visited the 54 horses that call Mandarina home, and was fully overcome meeting three newborn kittens who have set up shop in the stables. Horseback riding lessons, (seasonal) polo lessons, and horseback rides on the beach are all on offer. When polo season, which runs from November through May, ramps up, pros play matches most weekends. Gustavo Mejia, the Mandarina experiences manager who runs the operation, played 53 matches last year and hosted professional players as well as beginners keen to learn. Guests can take polo lessons or ride horses at the Mandarina Polo & Equestrian Club. I stepped into the kids' club and was immediately greeted by a bevy of hanging wooden toys—rings, a rope swing—plus a small stage, a surplus of interactive and colorful toys, and a spacious yard area outside. Even more charming was the narrative throughline of the kids' club, which follows a deer from the Mexican fairytale 'The Journey of Tunuri and the Blue Deer.' It tells the Indigenous Wixárika story of the blue deer in the Riviera Nayarit's Sierra Madre Mountains, who helps a little boy, Tunuri, who is lost in the woods. The magical blue deer is a messenger between the dream world—a recurring theme in Wixárika culture and artwork—and the real world, and introduces Tunuri to Mother Earth and Father Sun, all in service of getting him back home to his family. Painted scenes within the kids' club depict this tale, featuring vibrant beading, rainbow-colored ropes, and a big blue deer in the yard. When I arrived in my Asaya Spa treatment room, my massage therapist asked me to close my eyes and smell three essential oils. She promised my body would intuitively choose the oil I needed, based on which smelled the best to me. I wound up with a eucalyptus and lemongrass blend to promote physical healing (I gave birth 10 months ago, so, seems right), which she kneaded into my back and down my legs for an hour that passed by all too quickly. I chose to forgo the steam room, sauna, and cold plunge circuit in favor of an hour-long soak back in my private plunge pool. The spa, built around a beautiful higuera (fig tree), has Japanese-French skin care brand EviDens for luxe facials that I would definitely come back for. Rosewood Mandarina has three accessible rooms—one in each of the eco-systems. La Cocina restaurant is accessible, but the beach and any sand walkways leading up to other gathering places are not. On the sustainability front, Rosewood cares for the on-site estuary and works with local biologists to tag and care for the crocodiles, as well as other wildlife. The resort team has planted only native flora on the premises and is working on a larger replanting effort, creating a wild garden near Asaya Spa. Much of the art and materials throughout the hotel are sourced from Mexico and Mexican artists; and I encountered very few single-use plastics during my stay. The scenic coast of Riviera Nayarit. As Riviera Nayarit—the 192-mile stretch between the Sierra Madre Mountains and the Pacific Ocean—expands as a resort destination, the area's resort communities, including Mandarina and Punta de Mita, become more accessible. That's largely thanks to a brand-new section of the Puerto Vallarta-Guadalajara highway. The expanded highway—a much-anticipated multimillion-dollar Mexican infrastructure project—got me from Puerto Vallarta International Airport (PVR) to Rosewood Mandarina in less than an hour, and it was a very smooth ride. Travelers heading to Rosewood Mandarina should fly into PVR; it's a 2.5-hour flight from Los Angeles International Airport and a nonstop hop from a few other West Coast hubs. Those flying from the East Coast of the U.S. will need to connect, typically in Atlanta (for the Delta loyalists) or Dallas (for the Oneworld crowd). The hotel is an American Express Fine Hotels and Resorts member, which means Amex Platinum cardholders get a host of perks, including a $100 resort credit and complimentary daily breakfast for two. The Amex website also notes that cardholders can book 30-percent-off stays through December 15, 2025, and the Rosewood Mandarina website touts the 30-percent-off opening offer for those booking directly through the hotel. Rosewood does not have a loyalty program. Nightly rates at Rosewood Mandarina start at $1,200. Every T+L hotel review is written by an editor or reporter who has stayed at the property, and each hotel selected aligns with our core values.
NZ Herald
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- NZ Herald
La Cocina best served in-cinema for glimpse into exciting, exhausting NY restaurant life
Director Alonso Ruizpalacios, left, alongside striking Mexican actor Raúl Briones, right, at a 'La Cocina' press conference in Mexico. Photo / Getty Images La Cocina, directed by Alonso Ruizpalacios, is in cinemas now. Set during the lunchtime rush of a bustling New York restaurant, La Cocina portrays the hurly-burly of the kitchen, blending personal drama with warm-hearted camaraderie, dashed with swear words hurled in the mother tongues of its immigrant staff. Central to the story is boozing troublemaker Pedro (striking Mexican actor Raúl Briones), one of several undocumented cooks employed in the famous tourist trap. His arrogant antics are wearing thin. 'Three strikes and you're out!' bellows Lee Sellars' head chef as Pedro takes unscheduled smoko breaks and mucks up meal orders. Chief among Pedro's distractions is Julia (Rooney Mara) a self-possessed waitress with her own problems. The film is loosely based on Arnold Wesker's 1957 play The Kitchen, and though this updated cast wears modern-day sneakers and hoodies, Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios maintains the old-fashioned feel of a Times Square institution, where staff smoke as they slave over hot stoves and make calls from payphones, not cellphones. Adding to its throwback charm, La Cocina is shot in beautifully crisp black and white photography, illuminating the natural performances by a superb cast of mostly unknowns representing an authentically diverse immigrant community. Tensions boil over during a scene with cooks and servers humorously cursing each other out in their florid local slang, while Max, the sole white monolingual American chef, angrily despairs. It's not quite Boiling Point or The Bear but things do get stressful – pounding sound design adds to an intense scene shot in one long take in which everything that can go wrong seemingly does. The script's stage origins are evident in a couple of theatrical moments: a soliloquy in the meat freezer, and the occasional earnest monologue between workers. Brought to the screen, however, the melodramatic aspects are mitigated by the stunning monochrome cinematography. Amidst the companionship and cuisine some vaguely surreal moments still somehow feel in keeping with the overall tone. La Cocina is best served as an in-cinema experience, for immersion in an exciting, exhausting, behind-the-scenes world. Rating out of five:★★★★
Sydney Morning Herald
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
This plot might work in an hour of TV – unfortunately, this is a movie
LA COCINA ★★ (MA) 139 minutes If there were a prize for Most Obtrusive Cinematography, Alonso Ruizpalacios' La Cocina would be in the running. The main setting is the basement kitchen of The Grill, an imagined restaurant close to Times Square that operates on the scale of a small factory (filming was mostly in a studio in Mexico City). The camera tracks laterally along the overhead shelves, and the film's whole midsection is occupied by a single chaotic but carefully choreographed long take in which all hell breaks loose during the lunchtime rush. Elsewhere, dialogue scenes are filmed in heavy alternating close-ups, or the actors are pushed to the edges of the frame, with shots edited so their eyes don't appear to meet. Most of this is in black and white, with the old-school Academy screen ratio boosting the feeling of claustrophobia – though a couple of scenes make use of colour, and the screen expands from time to time, as if Ruizpalacios feared we might be getting bored. Very loosely based on Arnold Wesker's 1957 play The Kitchen, the film is an ensemble piece that follows a large number of employees, the majority of them undocumented immigrants from Latin America, over a single day spent toiling in The Grill's depths. The central plotline involves Pedro (Raúl Briones Carmona), a Mexican cook near the end of his tether, and his waitress girlfriend Julia (a typically tense and whispery Rooney Mara). She's pregnant, he wants the baby and she doesn't, and there's an issue about getting money for an abortion – all of which might be just about enough to sustain an hour-long episode of conventional TV, with other subplots woven in.
The Age
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
This plot might work in an hour of TV – unfortunately, this is a movie
LA COCINA ★★ (MA) 139 minutes If there were a prize for Most Obtrusive Cinematography, Alonso Ruizpalacios' La Cocina would be in the running. The main setting is the basement kitchen of The Grill, an imagined restaurant close to Times Square that operates on the scale of a small factory (filming was mostly in a studio in Mexico City). The camera tracks laterally along the overhead shelves, and the film's whole midsection is occupied by a single chaotic but carefully choreographed long take in which all hell breaks loose during the lunchtime rush. Elsewhere, dialogue scenes are filmed in heavy alternating close-ups, or the actors are pushed to the edges of the frame, with shots edited so their eyes don't appear to meet. Most of this is in black and white, with the old-school Academy screen ratio boosting the feeling of claustrophobia – though a couple of scenes make use of colour, and the screen expands from time to time, as if Ruizpalacios feared we might be getting bored. Very loosely based on Arnold Wesker's 1957 play The Kitchen, the film is an ensemble piece that follows a large number of employees, the majority of them undocumented immigrants from Latin America, over a single day spent toiling in The Grill's depths. The central plotline involves Pedro (Raúl Briones Carmona), a Mexican cook near the end of his tether, and his waitress girlfriend Julia (a typically tense and whispery Rooney Mara). She's pregnant, he wants the baby and she doesn't, and there's an issue about getting money for an abortion – all of which might be just about enough to sustain an hour-long episode of conventional TV, with other subplots woven in.
Otago Daily Times
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Otago Daily Times
Monochrome take on American life
Alonso Ruizpalacios' new movie defies the times, featuring undocumented aliens and abortion, Ryan Gilbey writes. In the early '00s, Alonso Ruizpalacios was not the gifted, ingenious director he is today — the man behind A Cop Movie , a slippery psychodrama that breaks the laws of documentary, and the new La Cocina , starring Rooney Mara as a waitress at a hectic New York restaurant. Back then, he wore baggy khaki shorts and welcomed customers to the Rainforest Cafe, its plastic foliage and animatronic wildlife, in Piccadilly Circus. "Hi, I'm Alonso and I'll be your safari guide today," he would say. "You guys been here before? No? Well, this is Bamba, our gorilla. Occasionally there will be rain showers, but — hey — don't be afraid, you won't get wet!" The film-maker grimaces at the memory. "You had to give the whole spiel," he says. Ruizpalacios, who was raised in Mexico City by parents who are both doctors, is 47, with dense stubble, curly black hair and chunky-framed Harry Palmer-style glasses. Give or take the same lopsided smile, he doesn't look much like the budding matinee idol in his Rada headshot. "I got into acting because I wanted to be a director," he says. "And I needed to understand actors." They're all nuts, right? "They're strange creatures for sure," he replies diplomatically. "Frail, vain, brave. Full of contradictions. I could say many things. I don't want to say the wrong thing." After all, he is married to one: Ilse Salas, who starred in his 2014 debut, Gueros , a road movie that goes stylishly in circles, and Museo , with Gael Garcia Bernal as one of the perpetrators of a real-life museum heist. While studying at Rada, Ruizpalacios worked to earn his keep, which is where the Rainforest Cafe came in. He can draw a direct line between that experience and La Cocina . For starters, the film is adapted from Arnold Wesker's 1957 play The Kitchen , which he first read while at Rada. "Wesker's play made the restaurant seem tolerable. But during my first few weeks in the job, I would have nightmares every night, imagining I was still at work and the orders were running late." Directors and chefs aren't so dissimilar, and he concedes that there is a "militarised" hierarchy to film sets and kitchens alike. "But I'm no Gordon Ramsay." La Cocina is a lively, relentless portrait of American working life, set during one day below stairs at The Grill , with its staff of immigrants, many of them undocumented, from the Dominican Republic, Mexico and Morocco. Among them is the sous chef Pedro (the director's regular collaborator Raul Briones), who is in love with Julia, played by Mara. Isn't there a risk of imbalance when a performer like Mara joins a cast of less feted or recognisable actors? "There is," he admits, "but I wanted a Hollywood star because that's how Julia is in Pedro's mind. Though she's actually very grounded." What about Mara herself? Don't A-listers come with entourages, even their own chefs to rival the fictional ones of La Cocina ? "We kept all that to a minimum," he says with a knowing smile. "We weren't a big production; we shot all the interiors in Mexico. And Rooney is very grounded, just like Julia. As one of my teachers at Rada used to say: 'Nobody s**** jam'." La Cocina is shot in a dreamy monochrome, which calls to mind Coppola's Rumble Fish . As do the film's absurdist touches: an unseen rat tugging a pizza along the street, or a malfunctioning soda machine that floods the submarine-like kitchen with Cherry Coke as if in some sugary spin on Das Boot . Ruizpalacios chose black-and-white to help render the film timeless. "You don't know when it's taking place. That's why there are no mobile phones. I wanted something beyond realism." But that approach was also one of several sticking points for potential financiers. "Black-and-white was a big no for everyone we went to." Even after the success of Roma , directed by Alfonso Cuaron. " Roma is an anomaly, I think, because Cuaron is such a big name. "People were also put off because I insisted on Raul in the lead role instead of a star. And this is a kitchen film with no food porn. And half of it is in Spanish." Don't forget it also has one character contemplating an abortion. "A studio we went to said: 'Can we not have the abortion storyline?'. I was, like: 'That's one of the main parts!'. It's insane that we're still talking about a woman's right to choose." Surely the popularity of other frantic kitchen-based dramas such as The Bear and Boiling Point must have assuaged backers' concerns. "We were already in pre-production when The Bear came out. I still haven't seen it: I didn't want it to influence what we were doing." Had La Cocina been shot in colour, minus the abortion storyline, and with, say, Jacob Elordi as Pedro, there would still be no expunging the text's inherent anti-capitalist bent. "It's about how the capitalist machine leaves no room for dreams," Ruizpalacios says, alluding to the central sequence in which the kitchen staff are overwhelmed by orders during the lunchtime rush. "At the beginning, they're talking about other things, little inner conflicts. As it progresses, there's no room for the personal, and it's all orders, orders, orders. It shows how relationships are obliterated by the rhythm of capitalism and work, and the pressure to keep the production line going. That was one of the scenes that kept me thinking about the play all these years. But the feedback we got was opposed to this kind of film, which criticises the American working ethos, and the way migrants are treated. That makes it an uncomfortable watch." If the situation was bad when Ruizpalacios and I met last year, a month before the US election, it has grown immeasurably graver since then. The director has been busy finishing a new script: his adaptation of Juan Jose Saer's western The Clouds , about psychiatric patients being led across the desert to a new hospital, which he has transposed to the late 1840s and the Mexican-American war. There are even bigger problems afoot. La Cocina represents a list of Donald Trump and JD Vance's pet hates: undocumented immigrants, abortion, anti-capitalism. How does it feel to be releasing the film into such a hostile world? "I think it only makes it more urgent and poignant," he says. "I see a lot of caution ahead in the US. I see peers who are careful about what they say, what they put out. As a foreigner, it's different because I have no skin in that game." Presumably he still wants to work in the United States, though: he recently directed three episodes of the Star Wars spin-off series Andor . "Yeah, but working in Mexico, too, gives you a different perspective. There's a whole life beyond Hollywood." — The Observer
