Each month, native Midlander Shannon Laning invites readers to explore the flavors, histories, and Midlanders behind some of our community’s most beloved dining spots.

The moment we stepped through the door at Cancun Grill — the Centennial Park Christmas light glittering behind us — we were wrapped in a hug before we even had the chance to take off our coats.

“We haven’t seen you in so long!” came first, followed quickly by, “How are your mom and dad?” and “What are your girls up to these days?”

The greetings flowed naturally, the kind of familiarity you don’t find in most restaurants because it isn’t rehearsed — it’s lived.

We were led to our table, and before we had even opened our menus, warm chips and salsa landed in front of us, followed almost immediately by the appetizers and drinks we always order, or “the usual” as the staff recalls.

My girls inhaled the roasted corn queso — truly capable of finishing a bowl on their own — while my husband and I began our usual round of jalapeño roulette, risking our taste buds on each soy sauce-soaked slice to see which one would send us into hiccups (no mouths were injured in this game). If we’re feeling wild, we mix the queso with the jalapeños, a truly elite combination. And the Mexican martini — a margarita-style drink, recently upgraded with a dried lime wheel — remains undefeated.

Cancun Grill has long been one of our family’s favorites, but knowing the story behind it is what makes every visit feel extra special. It’s the story of two brothers from Mexico, Nemecio and Javier, a lot of hard work, delicious food born from their grandmother’s home, and the generosity of a Midlander who changed their trajectory forever.

Before there was a restaurant, before there was a menu, before there was even a dream of owning anything in the United States, there was a grandmother in a small village in Durango, Mexico, who woke at six every morning to cook for twenty people. Her legacy is cooked into every dish at Cancun Grill.

In the small village of only 132 people, food was the language of love. When the family gathered, there was always plenty to go around. Fresh tortillas were made that morning by hand. Cheese was made by the aunts, following their grandmother’s recipe. Herbs were crushed, masa kneaded, and a table was set full of dishes ready to serve 20 people.

“For me, the best food isn’t the expensive cut — it’s the dish made that same day, full of fragrant flavor,” Nemecio recounted.

Those meals shaped them. They taught them generosity. They taught them patience. They taught them that food, when made with intention, feeds more than hunger.

In 1982, Nemecio came to America and spent time in Houston, Idaho, and Scottsdale before coming to Midland, intending only to visit an aunt before returning home. But as so often happens to those “just passing through Midland,” he felt a sense of home.

“I said, Why go back? I like it here.” And he stayed.

After Javier joined Nemecio in Midland a few years later and with very little English and no connections, they found work bussing tables at Midland Country Club, a world far from Durango but not completely unlike his grandmother’s table. People came hungry. The job was to care for them. And Neme and Javier did just that.

For 23 years, they worked at Midland Country Club, honing the skills that would one day become their legacy. The club’s members were served consistently and attentively. They learned how people interacted with food, how service could elevate a meal, and how hospitality could turn strangers into regulars. But they longed to have a place of their own, where they could bring the flavors from Mexico that they loved so much. And so, they took a risk and opened their own concept, Cancun Grill, on Big Spring Street in Midland.

The food was amazing, and Neme and Javier began instilling the lessons they had learned from years in the industry into the small, vibrant space. But two years later, the generosity of a former club member would change the trajectory of the business forever.

When asked about the kindest gesture ever made toward him, Nemecio didn’t hesitate. “Tim Leach,” he said softly with emotion. “It makes me cry, but he gave me a chance.”

One day in the early 2000s, Leach walked into Cancun Grill on Big Spring, not knowing it was owned by the same brothers who had personally served him and his wife at Midland Country Club years prior. When they recognized each other, something shifted. A week later, Leach made a proposal that would reshape everything that came after. He had acquired a building downtown that had a space for a restaurant. He offered to renovate it and then didn’t charge them rent for a whole year. It was a gift, not of charity but of belief.

At the new downtown location, Cancun Grill reopened in 2007 with only 21 tables, but everyone felt full of possibility. Families came. Women came for vibrant salads. Men came for hearty plates. Children came for quesadillas with rice and beans on the side (my children’s personal favorite). And of course, everyone came for the roasted corn queso. The servers — many who remain to this day — learned the system he brought from Scottsdale: one server for drinks, one for food, someone always present, always attentive.

“I tell them, I want you to treat guests like you’d treat someone walking into your house. My standards are high, and I only keep the ones who care,” he said. That consistency in service is one of the things that truly sets Cancun apart.

And then there’s the food — and in the Laning home, we definitely have our favorites.

For appetizers, the roasted corn queso and jalapenos are a must, and the bacon-wrapped shrimp is so good that it is often my main course. The legacy tacos, made from high-end beef trimmings cooked until they fall apart, are grilled and then tucked into tortillas– braised-beef perfection.

Our favorite off-the-menu item is the shrimp quesadillas. The seafood enchiladas are, in fact, the superior enchiladas. The vegetables are sautéed with chicken broth and finished with enchilada sauce — a simple trick that transforms them entirely. My girls got the ribeye, and it is so packed with flavor that I wanted to steal all the extra bites.

And for the finale and one of the best desserts in all of Midland, the churro cake à la mode. I can’t even describe how good it is. You just have to taste it for yourself.

Today, the restaurant seats nearly 200 people. Far more than the 20-person table of their childhood, yet somehow it is still intimate, still warm, and still rooted in the belief that food creates a gathering place.

This story is not just a restaurant review or a business profile. It is the story of two brothers who carried the flavors and hospitality of their close-knit family from a tiny village into a new country, a new life, and a new legacy.

Cancun Grill goes far beyond food. Here, in a town that is always on the move, it feels like home — like walking into a kitchen where someone has been waiting for you. It’s a table that started in Durango and has been carried across borders and seasons, still set with fresh food, easy laughter, and the unmistakable warmth of family.