Comal 864’s Dayna Lee-Márquez says sharing a meal makes good neighbors

Words by Stephanie Burnette
Photos by Jessica Clanton

Two years ago, Chef Dayna Lee-Márquez was nominated for Best Chef Southeast by the James Beard Foundation, and the response was deafening. Who was the young, Latina, self-taught chef in Greenville, South Carolina? And would she have the chops to capitalize under a spotlight known to be hot and scrutinizing?  

When asked this question, her response is succinct and on-brand: “I welcome challenges,” she says. “I get off on what’s hard.” 

The grit comes from southernmost Texas. There’s no place closer to Mexico than Brownsville, and she calls the cuisine she brought with her “bordertown food.” Her menu is affordable, handmade, a bit irreverent, fresh, and crushable. 

An order at Comal 864 is Dayna on a plate. Her fare is a mash-up of global street food, protein-driven regional plates, and farm veg. There are massive burritos and chorizo breakfast tacos, birria grilled cheese on Texas toast and Mexi-ramen topped with hot Cheeto dust. But it’s her sauces that garner big accolades, with layered interest and heat that builds.

She downplays her upbringing unless directly asked. Dayna is the oldest daughter of four from a traditional Hispanic household and recalls a sadness that lingered from feeling unheard. “No matter how much I spoke—how loudly I spoke—they didn’t hear me because I was a girl, because they were busy trying to survive. Their focus was on my grades so I could accomplish things I wasn’t interested in,” she says. “Today I can see the sadness was depression.”

She moved out at 17 and was physically abused by a boyfriend. She had a son at 22, whom she named Abel, and felt shame from her family. “For all intents and purposes, to them, I was a teen mom,” she says.

But by 25 she was in a new relationship. Her husband, Anthony, accepted an engineering position in South Carolina, a place that felt foreign. “It was culture shock,” she says. “I’d never seen so many white people. Where we come from its 98.9 percent Hispanic Mexican.”

They didn’t know what a tomato sandwich was and had never tasted Duke’s Mayo, a combination they now love. And the array of Latin communities—from El Salvador and Honduras and Columbia—was a new experience too. “We don’t eat anything alike though we sound alike,” she says. “I cook a very specific culture from an often-forgotten part of Texas, and it made me want to share who I am.” 

Comal 864 started as a pop-up to showcase food from the Texas Rio Grande Valley, but in short time Dayna recognized the work as a calling. It prompted her to sign a lease in a neighborhood that was a food desert. It was what she could afford, and she had no financial backing. She opened without a line of credit and without a dishwasher. Anthony did her books and Abel learned to read at a restaurant table. She says she regrets not one hardship because she didn't want anyone influencing her decisions—especially this one: she gives away tacos, more than 10,000 at last count.

There’s no process to qualify for a taco. If someone says they’re hungry, Dayna makes them a taco. The goal is to help someone get by a little bit longer. A taco at Comal 864 costs $1 to make without labor cost. Local diners know the pay-it-forward jar helps the campaign.

She recalls cleaning the grimy restaurant by hand because she didn’t have a dollar to spare. It took the new chef the better part of a week. She watched the same people walk by and noticed who looked hungry. “These people became part of my daily experience,” she says. “I’m scrubbing and it’s gross and I’m thinking I can’t afford to open this restaurant. But I’m also wondering if these people have secure housing. It was easier to do something for them than to worry about me. It was almost Thanksgiving, and we had no family around, so I thought, Let’s do something that shows people it doesn’t take much.”

They made 150 Thanksgiving plates that year. It was their first service as a restaurant. A social media post invited all to come, especially those who were solo. “It showcased that people want to help, but they don’t always know what to do or how to do it,” Dayna says. “We did that, and it worked.”

Last year they served 1,200 plates, hosting community supper at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Hundreds of people brought sides to share. There were frozen turkeys to take home too, and new socks and other supplies. Dayna says there’s always too much food and the party just gets bigger. 

In June, a second location of Comal 864 opened, in a different residential neighborhood with different needs. Dayna now employs 16 people, all at a living wage, a total that surprises her. “Sometimes I overextend myself, but I’ll do it again and again and again. We’ll do something at both restaurants this year,” she says, “because I have more help than ever, and holidays are better together. I truly believe that.”

The James Beard Effect

Dayna Lee-Márquez says when she was nominated for a Best Chef Southeast award, her world exploded. She calls it the best and worst thing that ever happened to her. The day after the announcement, Comal 864 ran out of food, and help.

The concept had to adjust to a new level of volume and scrutiny. 

“The nomination was life-altering,” Dayna says. “It changed my life and brought my name into a lot of rooms. I felt proud for a bit, but then it was time to prove that I deserved it. I had to be OK with not being for everyone, and now I’m more than OK with it. I welcome it. It’s motivation. I’ll forever be grateful for the recognition of my food and my work in the community.”

It Warms the Soul

Chef Dayna Lee-Márquez makes this menudo for the entire holiday season at her two restaurants in Greenville, South Carolina, both called Comal 864. She says menudo is something she grew up making and, to her, her mom’s was the best menudo ever. It’s the staple dish, next to tamales, once it’s holiday time. 

She says to take care with the meat. It has to be very clean. She employs a variety of dried peppers to make a sauce base that’s not spicy but deep and flavorful. Oregano is crucial to the recipe, and she adds hominy. She grew up eating menudo with tortilla, but her husband, Anthony, eats it with bolillo, a white bread that’s a bit doughy on the inside.

Menudo

2 1/2 lbs. honeycomb tripe

1 1/2 lbs. librillo de res 

1 pata de res, cut into pieces

7 chiles guajillo

1 1/2 chiles ancho

1 chile de árbol 

20 oz. white hominy

5 cloves fresh garlic 

1/2 white onion

Water 

2 tsp. Mexican oregano

2 bay leaves 

1 tsp. black peppercorn 

Salt to taste 

Rinse all meat thoroughly with a dash of white vinegar. Rinse off with cold water and dice into small bites. Fill a large stockpot 2/3 full. Once it comes to a boil, add the meat. Include 3 cloves of garlic, half of the onion, bay leaves, salt, and black peppercorn. While meat is cooking, wash your chiles to remove any dirt and all seeds and stems. Rehydrate the chiles in hot water. Once softened, add all your chiles to a blender with 1 cup of the chile water. Remove the garlic and onion and black peppercorn from the boiling meat pot and add to your blender. Blend until smooth, pouring the chile mixture through a fine mesh strainer and directly into the pot of boiling meat. Turn the pot to low-medium heat and allow to cook for at least 3 hours, until meat is soft. Add the white hominy in the last 45 minutes of cooking. Salt to taste. Serve hot with corn tortillas or pan bolillo on the side. Top with onion, cilantro, chile quebrado, oregano, or a lime wedge. 

The chef notes you can also make menudo with pork shoulder, chicken, or cow feet.