Seated on the terrace of a seaside café in Chetumal, the gentle sound of Caribbean waves accompanies me. The rich, nutty aftertaste of hazelnut chocolate ice cream still lingers on my tongue. A warm breeze brushes past, and for a moment, everything feels just right. Desserts have become the softest element of this journey—perhaps even the most unforgettable.
This small city, often overlooked by many, sits at the southern tip of Mexico. But behind its quiet façade lies a trove of sweet treasures. They’re tucked away in unassuming neighborhoods, hidden in the tropical aromas of ripe fruit, and folded gently into handcrafted recipes that speak of patience and care.
Traveling through Chetumal has felt like a treasure hunt for sugar. Each dessert shop I visit adds a new layer to this sweet mosaic, each stop a delicate, flavorful interlude in the rhythm of the city.
1. First Stop on a Sunny Afternoon: Pikolé Ice Cream Lab (Pikolé Heladería Artesanal)
The midday sun in central Chetumal is scorching, the kind of heat that seems to settle into your skin. Turning onto Calle Belice, a brightly painted little shop stands out from the row of houses. A sky-blue sign and a playful set of graffiti-style benches sit out front, almost like an open invitation to step in and cool off.
Pikolé isn’t just any ice cream parlor. The name itself blends “pico” (tip or peak) and “mole” (mix), reflecting the shop’s philosophy of experimental, artisanal flavor combinations. There’s no fixed menu here—each batch is a fresh exploration of ingredients.
Standing before the chilled display case, I’m immediately drawn to two flavors: “Creamy Coconut with Blueberry Jam” and “Caramel, Lemon & Basil.” They sound fantastical—almost like culinary alchemy. I order a double scoop, nestled in a hand-rolled vanilla waffle cone.
The coconut flavor is lush and milky, with blueberry jam cutting through like sunbeams through tropical leaves—bright, tart, and refreshing. The caramel, lemon, and basil combination surprises me even more. It starts with the smooth sweetness of caramel, which is quickly sharpened by a punch of lemon zest, only to be grounded again by the herbal freshness of basil.
Inside, the café is pleasantly cool. Latin jazz flows softly in the background, and one of the walls is painted with the phrase: “Todo con amor sabe mejor” — “Everything made with love tastes better.” It’s not just decoration. Every scoop tastes like someone really meant it.
2. A Tropical Flavor Paradise: La Casita del Pan
Every city needs a place where time seems to slow down—a quiet haven for those in search of comfort. In Chetumal, that place is La Casita del Pan.
As soon as I walk through the door, I’m enveloped by the warm scent of baking sugar and butter. More than just a bakery, this place feels like an expression of local artistry and emotion. Paintings by local artists line the walls, many of them depicting traditional Mayan women baking in rustic kitchens—an artistic mirror of what happens here daily.
I order three desserts: a mango cheesecake tart, a cocoa-cinnamon roll, and a passionfruit-lemon mousse.
The mango tart is visually stunning, golden and glossy. Its crust is crisp and delicate, cracking gently under my fork. The mango puree is rich and velvety, with no trace of bitterness. Beneath it lies a creamy layer of cheesecake that mellows the tartness just enough, creating a balance that feels like a warm breeze from the tropics.
The cinnamon roll is fresh out of the oven. Still warm, the dough is pillowy and layered with dark cocoa and cinnamon—spicy, sweet, and irresistibly soft.
The passionfruit mousse is in its own category. It’s the kind of dessert you instinctively close your eyes to savor. Silky smooth with a slight tang from citrus, it’s a cool balm to the humid afternoon heat—perfect with a latte.
The owner, a gentle woman in her fifties, hears I’m visiting from afar. She smiles and gifts me a slice of her almond chocolate cake “for the road.” She says, “Real desserts should leave you with a memory.”
She’s absolutely right.
3. Street-Side Surprises: Paletería y Nevería La Flor de Michoacán
Some discoveries aren’t on maps—they’re in moments. This next gem appeared during a casual walk near Mercado Lázaro Cárdenas. A group of kids were laughing and licking colorful ice pops outside a modest, weathered shop.
Curious, I stepped closer. The place was a small branch of La Flor de Michoacán, a well-known name for traditional Mexican-style paletas—handmade frozen popsicles in dozens of imaginative flavors.
From strawberry and coconut to corn and even avocado-chili, the flavor list was both nostalgic and wildly creative. I chose two: sweet corn and avocado-chili.
The corn paleta was creamy and subtly sweet, with real corn kernels inside. It tasted like a frozen version of atole de elote, a traditional Mexican drink. In a word: astonishing. The avocado-chili version started smooth and mellow but ended with a gentle kick of chili—a playful contradiction of flavors that somehow worked.
There were no polished seats, just plastic stools and the hum of a fan. But there was laughter, aroma, and that unmistakable sense of local life. Sometimes, the most unforgettable sweets are the ones you stumble upon by chance.
4. Baking and Brews: DeliBakery Chetumal
Along the city’s main avenue, Avenida de los Héroes, sits DeliBakery Chetumal, nestled in a white European-style building. From the outside, it’s unassuming. Inside, it’s an elegant, wood-toned sanctuary where the aroma of freshly baked pastries and espresso fills the air.
I order their signature mille-feuille cake and a café latte. The cake isn’t ostentatious—just precise. Dozens of thin layers, separated by just enough cream to keep things moist without overwhelming sweetness. The top is dusted with pistachio crumbles, adding crunch and an earthy note.
The latte is rich and full-bodied, made with locally roasted beans. As I sip, the buttery flavors of the cake harmonize with the roasted bitterness of the coffee—an ensemble of contrasts that work beautifully.
The owner, a young baker with a serious demeanor, tells me about his process. He uses only local dairy and organic flour. “Desserts are meant to comfort people. There’s no room for compromise,” he says. There’s a quiet power in his devotion to craft—a reminder that sincerity always finds a way to shine.
5. A Small Nighttime Joy: Tivoli Pastelería
Evenings in Chetumal bring a calmness to the streets. The lights shimmer across cobblestone walkways, and everything seems to speak in whispers. I make my way to Tivoli, a beloved local pastry shop known for its serene atmosphere and classic sweets.
Their cheesecake and tiramisu are local legends. I order both, along with a cup of hot chocolate.
The cheesecake is dense and smooth, with a slight zing from lemon zest. Its crust is a little salty, which cuts through the creaminess and keeps each bite interesting. The tiramisu is a marvel—soaked with rich, local espresso and layered with just the right amount of mascarpone and cocoa. There’s even a faint note of rum, rounding out the flavor like a soft chord at the end of a song.
What I love most here is the ambiance. Classical guitar music plays softly. A sleepy cat curls up in the corner. Old poetry books and travel magazines rest on a side shelf, and for a moment, nothing else exists beyond the warm cup in my hands and the bittersweet flavor on my tongue.
6. Traditional Flavors from the Market: Dulcería El Cañaveral
While wandering through the Mercado Viejo—the Old Market—I come across a sweet shop filled with local specialties. Behind a glass display are rows of colorful, sticky, sugary treats. Some of them don’t even have English names, but their allure is undeniable.
I try a variety of items: cocadas (coconut fudge), alegrías (amaranth and peanut bars), nuegados (fried dough balls with syrup), and tamarind balls coated in sugar and chili.
These are not refined, dainty desserts. They are bold, messy, unfiltered. They stick to your fingers and coat your teeth with sweetness. The cocadas explode with juicy coconut shreds; the nuegados crackle lightly with their thin syrup shell, almost like Mexican doughnut bites.
These sweets taste like they were made in someone’s grandmother’s kitchen. Not polished or delicate—but sincere, proud, and deeply rooted in the culture.
7. Seaside Sweets on Wheels: Postres Yeya
Walking along the Malecón, the city’s seaside promenade, it’s impossible to miss the stream of mobile dessert carts. Among them, one stands out—Postres Yeya.
Usually parked near the pier, this little cart is run by a cheerful older woman with a booming voice and a contagious laugh. She makes just three desserts each day: homemade flan, coconut-chocolate sponge cake, and fruit-cheesecake parfaits.
The flan is smooth and silky, perfectly caramelized on top. The sponge cake is airy but rich in coconut flavor—like a bite of island sunshine. And the fruit parfait? Layers of mango, watermelon, and creamy cheese mousse—so vivid it almost looks like a tropical painting in a cup.
Every time I visit, she insists on giving me an extra spoonful. “For my traveling friend,” she says. Her cart may be small, but on this stretch of road, it’s one of the most heartfelt places to pause and indulge.
8. Late-Night Indulgence: El Rincón del Cacao
The final stop takes me to El Rincón del Cacao, or “The Chocolate Corner,” a dessert shop that opens at 6 p.m. and draws a devoted night crowd.
Everything here revolves around chocolate. Their top three items: chocolate lava cake, dark chocolate mousse, and a hot drink made with 70% pure cocoa.
The lava cake is made to order, taking 15 minutes to bake. It arrives piping hot, with its center oozing rich, slightly bitter chocolate. It pairs perfectly with a shot of local rum. The mousse is dark and intense, yet silky smooth. And the hot cocoa? A velvety elixir that warms both body and soul.
As I eat, I chat with a local couple sitting nearby. They tell me that they always return here when visiting family. “The chocolate here stays with you,” the woman says. “You taste it once, and it lives in your memory.”
There’s something in the way she says it—simple, but true. The sweetness of this place isn’t just in the flavor. It’s in the company, the laughter, the memory that lingers long after the last spoonful.
