“Mariscos are my favorite, favorite food,” says Efren Hernandez, the three-time James Beard-nominated executive chef behind Casa Susanna in Leeds, of the inspiration for his new restaurant, Pez in Hudson. What better foundation for a new project—or promise of deliciousness—than the chef’s most cherished food?
Given the buzz around Casa Susanna’s modern Mexican fare, including praise from Eater, The Infatuation, and Esquire to name just a few, Pez debuted relatively quietly on June 18. “PEZ OFISHALLY OEPN” reads the backlit marquee beneath the minimalist Rivertown Lodge sign at 731 Warren Street in Hudson. It feels more like a wink than a grand opening.
The Right Time
Changing something that works takes courage and vision. For a decade, the Tavern at Rivertown Lodge served thoughtful farm-to-table cooking and, by every measure, was a success. But Hernandez, who took over the kitchen when he moved upstate in 2020, felt the menu was lacking distinction.
As farm-to-table has become the norm, chefs have begun seeking other ways to set themselves apart. Hernandez is part of, and perhaps leading, a broader upstate shift of chefs drawing on their own heritage and culinary traditions while embracing the Hudson Valley’s seasonal produce.
In parallel, the infrastructure supporting the ecosystem of regional restaurants has also grown up, opening new possibilities. A few years ago, fish deliveries came once a week. Hernandez had to buy enough seafood for seven days, break everything down, vacuum seal it, and freeze it. Today, fishmongers deliver daily—even in Hudson. “Now is the time,” he says of a seafood-forward concept. “Both the need and the supply is here.”
While Pez is centered on mariscos, sustainability also informed Hernandez’s thinking. A collaboration with Tivoli Mushrooms prompted him to look more closely at sustainable ingredients. In his research, he learned that mushrooms, beans, seaweed, and seafood—already some of his favorite foods—also happen to be among the more sustainable options. “While I’m no sustainability expert,” Hernandez says, “I thought about what I could do to help others, how I could cook to be more sustainable.” Seafood remains the foundation of Pez’s menu, with other sustainable ingredients appearing in supporting roles that reflect that thinking.
But ultimately, it was the unprecedented success of Casa Susanna—with locals, weekenders, industry insiders, and destination diners alike—that gave Hernandez the confidence to open Pez. “When I brought the concept of Susanna, the Hudson Valley didn’t have something like it. And Leeds is not exactly central,” he says, remembering his concerns over how the masa-based fare would be received in the region. “But this is my food—the food that I cook, the food that I like, the food that I am.”
That risk paid off, with the region demonstrating ample appetite for Hernandez’s artfully plated, Jaliscan inspired fare. He sees Pez as a similar gamble—a concept without precedent in the region but with plenty of potential. “There aren’t a lot of Mexican mariscos in the area and not a lot of quality,” he says. “But mariscos are my number one thing. When I land in Mexico my first stop is for ceviche or aguachile.”
Pez gives Hernandez the chance to express the coastal Mexican cuisine that he learned from his parents while growing up as a first-generation American in Los Angeles. The seafood-centric menu also lends a festive air to dining out, with Hernandez creating dishes you wouldn’t normally eat at home. “When I was a kid, we wouldn’t go to restaurants much but when we did it was always for seafood” he says.
Dining at Pez
Hidden behind a simple, glass-paneled door covered in burlap, Pez feels like a private dining room, tucked just off the hotel’s lobby lounge. High-gloss green walls are complemented by warm, orange-tinted wood. The narrow room seats 30, about half at the bar, with another 40 seats outdoors. The vibe offers shiplike elegance without obvious nautical accents.
On an unseasonably cold and rainy Monday in June, just four nights into service, Pez’s staff was happy, knowledgeable, and accessible, if a bit behind schedule.
The menu is organized into cold dishes, vegetables, and warm plates. Pez doesn’t even bother with a non-seafood entrée. Respect! (There are a few off-menu hanger steaks available for “those who are confused,” as Hernandez puts it.) The spare natural wine list offers 11 options by the glass ($14-$22) or bottle ($56-$88) from European producers and Mexican producer Bichi.
Beginning with the cold, oysters ($4 each) from Pemaquid, Maine are accented with chiltepin raspado, shaved ice (usually a Mexican sweet) from berry-like chiles. Soft, briny flesh meets icy heat, creating a sharp, textural contrast. The aguachiles ($22), the Mexican version of crudo, a rarity in the area, are not to be missed. Lightly hay-smoked black bass was rich and silky against a vivid blackberry broth, topped by crisp lengths of white daikon. Tart fruit brightens the fish and habanero provides steady heat that never overwhelms. No single ingredient dominates; flavor and texture work together to create a layered whole.
The Torre de Mariscos ($145) is an exuberant seafood tower that takes half an hour to prepare and comes stacked with oysters, razor clams, lobster, scallop crudo, tuna, crab chawanmush (a savory, Japanese custard), and shrimp.
The Chesapeake Bay Blue Crab Tostada ($22) stacks a generous portion of sweet crab, ribbons of baby asparagus, and lime on top of a crunchy house-made tostada. Tiny toasted ants contribute unexpected crunch rather than novelty. The Romorantin from the Loire Valley is mineral with just enough fruit to complement the sweet and rich crab meat ($17/glass).
A little gem salad is big on flavor, driven by lime and the chef-favorite umami booster: miso. Crispy fava beans and aged Romano Gouda add a welcome crunch. Though not overtly Mexican, it reflects the same interplay of acid, umami, and texture that threads through the menu.
Mussels from Bangs Island, Maine arrived pillowy in a pasta bowl, set in chileatole negro, a dark, corn-thickened chile broth of charred dried chiles with English peas and chochoyotes (Mexican dumplings—at Pez, made from sourdough). The warm broth and soft dumplings transform mussels into seafood comfort food.
The grilled, dry-aged Boston mackerel ($35) feels like the main attraction and epitomizes Hernandez’s three-part mission: sustainable seafood, Mexican flavors, and local produce. Mackerel, rich, oily, and assertive, is rarely given center stage on East Coast menus. Here, the fish is dry-aged before being grilled whole, firming the flesh and concentrating the flavor. Tucked into tortillas with escabeche, smoky burnt strawberry salsa, and pipián rojo, a mole colored by red chiles, each bite balances smoke, acid, fruit, and richness without masking the fish. The Baja California Dolcetto is light red and cloudy, dry and earthy, a natural companion to the mackerel ($22/glass).
Dessert, often skipped, is something to savor at Pez. Green strawberry sorbet with nixtamalized blueberry and anise hyssop oil ($10) is light, tart, and refreshing with enough substance and flavor to crave more, rather than simply cleanse the palate.
Pez avoids the preciousness of restaurants where chefs wield tweezers and diners hesitate to deconstruct the plates. After a moment of admiration, Pez invites you to dive in.
“I’ve been pretty surprised at how excited and positive people are. It’s great—it’s why we do it,”
Hernandez says. “More than diners thinking we’re great chefs, we want people to be happy.” Pez’s food is designed to be shared, eaten with abandon, and centered on pleasure rather than performance.
On a cold, rainy Monday, four nights after opening, the bar is full and energetic, making it feel like people have been joyously gathering here to eat this food for years. Hernandez says, “I’m obsessed with the idea of people having fun.”
