In Mexico, consuming insects isn’t seen as a novelty—it’s woven into the country’s culinary heritage. Roughly 80 percent of Mexicans have sampled at least one insect species, and over 500 different insects feature in regional dishes. Far from being an exotic stunt, eating these creatures reflects a deep-rooted tradition that continues to evolve in today’s kitchens.
A Kitchen Tuned to the Land
Every year for two months, Los Danzantes hosts its Bug Festival, highlighting the value of edible insects through a program that blends respect for local ingredients, an environmental ethic, and modern Mexican cooking. Chef Sergio Camacho oversees the festival’s culinary direction, shaping it into a forum where chefs, growers, and diners connect with the natural world. “Our goal is to partner with harvesters from Tlaxcala, Oaxaca, and Hidalgo,” Camacho explains. “By cutting out middlemen, we honor the ingredient’s origin and maintain transparency.”
On the festival menu, you won’t find gimmicks—just thoughtful combinations that bring out subtle flavors. Think rice cooked with escamoles and grasshoppers, aguachile made with black acocil, or a dessert of cocopache ice cream paired with banana cake. As Camacho notes, “Escamoles offer a buttery, nearly creamy texture; acociles lend a gentle saltiness; cocopache brings a hint of woodiness.” This philosophy marries ancestral knowledge with cutting-edge techniques, ensuring the dishes nod to their roots without feeling stuck in the past.
That commitment to sustainability hasn’t gone unnoticed. Los Danzantes recently earned a Michelin Green Star for its efforts to protect the environment in Oaxaca. The Bug Festival, which also takes place at Corazón de Maguey, isn’t merely a showcase of inventive recipes—it’s a space for conversation, workshops, and a shared appreciation of Mexico’s insect-based foodways.
Challenges in Production and Regulation
Despite projects like the Bug Festival championing edible insects, Mexico’s legal framework for producing them remains fragile. Ethnobiologist Kalina Miranda Perkins points out that only three Mexican companies are officially licensed to farm mealworms, grasshoppers, or maguey worms for human consumption. The vast majority still come from informal foragers, a practice that can strain local ecosystems and upset delicate biological cycles. “High demand for escamoles and red worms has led to unsustainable harvesting,” says Miranda. “Nest plundering, diminished communal stewardship, and disrupted life cycles are all too common.” In contrast, Europe reclassified these ingredients as “novel foods” back in 2018, putting processes in place to oversee their production and protect wild populations.
A Delicate Balance with Nature
Environmental changes are already affecting what lands on the plate. “This year, it was nearly impossible to find maguey worms,” Camacho reports. When temperatures climb and humidity drops, these worms can’t develop properly on agave leaves. “It’s not just about rising prices; it’s about losing the balance that lets these insects thrive,” he warns. Other species depend on specific weather patterns as well—chicatanas emerge only after certain rains, jumiles thrive in arid landscapes. Altering those conditions through deforestation, climate change, or unregulated harvesting jeopardizes their very survival.
An Emerging Market in Flux
According to the FAO, the edible-insect market worldwide could top $7.9 billion by 2030, growing at an annual rate of 24.4 percent. In countries across the globe, insects are already being ground into protein powders, turned into dietary supplements, used as animal feed, or even incorporated into cosmetics. Mexico’s centuries-old knowledge of insect cuisine should give it an edge, but so far, public policy hasn’t caught up to that tradition. Without formal structures and clear guidelines, the industry risks falling behind or—worse—depleting its own resources.
More Than Just Protein
From a nutritional standpoint, insects deliver high-quality protein while demanding far fewer natural resources than cattle or pigs. They take up less land, need far less water, and generate minimal greenhouse gases. Beyond those facts, however, lies an unwritten heritage: recipes and practices passed down through generations, taught not by books but by elders still tending to fields and forests.
Camacho insists that if insects lose their seasonal rhythms or if habitats vanish, talk about their “value” rings hollow. “These creatures aren’t a gimmick—they’re a gateway to understanding how land, culture, and cuisine intertwine,” he says. When newcomers step into the world of insect eating, most start with grasshoppers (chapulines). But Camacho urges them to dig deeper: learn where each insect comes from, how it interacts with its ecosystem, and why it held value long before anyone called it a “trendy” ingredient. “Putting bugs on the plate as a passing fad misses the point,” he reminds us. “What matters is appreciating what these insects represent: a living link to our environment and our collective past.”
In Mexico, consuming insects isn’t seen as a novelty—it’s woven into the country’s culinary heritage. Roughly 80 percent of Mexicans . . .
