SAN MIGUEL TASTE: The Last Slice of Ten Ten Pie
A San Miguel story, 33 years in the making

There are places in San Miguel de Allende that become more than restaurants, they become part of the rhythm of our lives. Ten Ten Pie has been one of those places.

This April, as the beloved Ten Ten Pie prepares to close its doors for the final time this coming May, it feels less like the end of a business and more like the closing of a chapter in San Miguel’s collective story.

Thirty-three years ago, when Ten Ten Pie first opened on Cuna de Allende, San Miguel was a quieter, sleepier town. Cobblestone streets saw more donkeys than cars, neighbors knew each other by name, and life moved at a gentler pace.

It was in this version of San Miguel that Juan Villaseñor, known to many as Juanito Tentempié, opened a small restaurant in 1993 with a simple vision: serve good food, welcome everyone, and let the rest unfold naturally.

His family had arrived in San Miguel in the late 1980s, searching for a fresh start. What they found here was not just opportunity, but community. Artists, musicians, dreamers, and wanderers filled the town with a creative energy that was both magnetic and deeply human. Many of those early connections became lifelong friendships, forged over shared meals and long conversations.

From the beginning, Ten Ten Pie was never just about the food—though the food, of course, was unforgettable. It was about the feeling. Juanito, often seen in his denim apron, moved effortlessly between tables, greeting guests as if they were old friends, ensuring everyone felt at home.

And people came. Despite early doubts about its location away from the Jardín, the restaurant slowly became a gathering place, a kind of living room for a beautifully eclectic San Miguel community. Evenings stretched longer than expected, strangers became friends, and laughter echoed over plates of tacos and shared bottles of wine.

Years later, in 2008, Juanito opened Ten Ten Pie al Carbón in Colonia San Antonio, an area that at the time was still surrounded by open fields and sunflowers. Once again, people questioned the location. Once again, they were wrong. The new space grew into a vibrant garden-style meeting point, where grilled meats, music, and long afternoons became part of the neighborhood’s identity.

San Miguel changed over the years, growing, evolving, and gaining international recognition. But Ten Ten Pie remained grounded in what mattered most: connection.

It was never just dinner. It was an experience—one that felt easy, unpretentious, and deeply San Miguel.

After Juanito’s passing in 2018, his daughters, Paula and Julia Villaseñor, carried the spirit of Ten Ten Pie forward. The original location eventually closed during the pandemic, but Ten Ten Pie al Carbón endured, supported by a loyal community of neighbors and longtime patrons. Under the care of Beatriz Bell, the space continued to honor what Juanito had created: a place where people could gather, connect, and feel at home.

Because that is what Ten Ten Pie has always been.

Yes, it served tacos, burritos, pozole, and grilled specialties. But it also offered something less tangible and far more meaningful, a sense of belonging. I can’t count how many evenings I spent there, with my mother, with friends, sitting in the front courtyard as the light softened into dusk. We would start, as one does, with a table full of their comforting and delicious starters: the baked Monterey potato, artichokes with that irresistible ranch-style dip, and Provençal fries that somehow always disappeared too quickly.

Then came the salad, fresh spinach with pear, walnuts, and goat cheese, the kind of dish that feels both simple and perfect. And finally, something to share: a beautiful cut of bife de chorizo, enjoyed slowly, in good company. Always accompanied by a mezcalita, an ice-cold beer, or a chilled glass of merlot.

To celebrate this remarkable legacy, Ten Ten Pie al Carbón will host Ten Ten Fest from April 17 to 19, a three-day gathering filled with food, music, games, and memories. There will be tacos and cumbias, dominoes and laughter, and the kind of atmosphere that has defined the space for over three decades.

As we prepare to say goodbye, it’s clear that Ten Ten Pie was never just one family’s story. It belongs to all of us who found ourselves there, again and again, drawn not only by the food, but by the feeling.

And while its doors may close, the memories, friendships, and spirit it created will remain, woven into the heart of San Miguel de Allende.